Tag Archives: Northampton

The Fallen Wall update – things starting to move

Remember the nightmare of the fallen wall? It’s here if you need a recap. Or search ‘fallen wall’.
Well after much brick cleaning, plant clearing and depression, we’ve got the brickie coming in tomorrow to start the rebuild.
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He came last week and pointed out that the final bricks of ‘the ruin’ needed bringing down to soil level, so Bloke and the neighbours had some work to do over the weekend.
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The plan is to rebuild it slightly shorter than its previous vertiginous height and to abandon the lawn in order to stick in some raised beds on our side, to the same height as the elevated soil level on the neighbours’ side.
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This will involve a complete redesign for me but should at least keep the wall up another 100 years.
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I’m desperate to get this wall rebuilt now. It may not have been much of a summer but you still need that garden to potter about in.
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It’s also going to soak up a couple of grand in cash we don’t really have. But at the moment I’d do pretty much anything to get our privacy back.
More updates as the building
starts . . .

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Caged bird or spoilt brat? Review of Hedda Gabler – Royal & Derngate until Saturday July 29, 2012

IT was an A Level text I’d managed to dodge as a teen. But plenty of English and Drama students will have read and seen Ibsen’s depressing masterpiece Hedda Gabler.
Running at Northampton’s Royal & Derngate as the final installment in artistic director Laurie Samsom’s Festival of Chaos trilogy, this is a stark departure from the larger-than-life offerings of The Bacchae and Blood Wedding.

A new, stripped-down cast of seven take to the beautifully lit, impressive but stark stage which stays static in the stifling drawing-room of the newly-wed Hedda, nee Gabler, now Mrs Tesman, in 1890s Oslo.

We’re introduced to her puppyish dolt of a husband, Jorgen (Jack Hawkins) and the obligitory overbearing aunt (Sue Wallace) while tutting servant Berte (Janice McKenzie), makes her mark with a scattering of lines.

The sets are muted and the dialogue conventional until the malevolently bored Hedda (an astonishing performance by Emma Hamilton) appears, displaying the nonchalant rudeness of the spoiled little rich girl.

Lex Shrapnel, Matti Houghton and Emma Hamilton. pic Robert Day

Utterly frustrated by the life she’s chosen and the status of women, and jealous as hell of the relationship between her alcoholic-tortured-artist-ex Lovborg (the marvellousoly monikered Lex Shrapnel) and a timid school-friend Thea (played with utter conviction by Matti Hougton), she sarcastically bullies and belittles all around her instead of seeking the freedom she incites in others.

 

Trapped not only by the loveless marriage and financial dependence on the slimy Judge Brack (Jay Villiers), but by impending motherhood, Hedda prowls cat-like around the stage setting traps and killing any hope of happiness or redemption, while always claiming to set the dark genius of Lovborg free “with vine leaves in his hair.”

A superb cast, pale and Nordic to contrast with Hedda’s flame-haired femme fatale, create tightly-would tension throughout the two and half hours, with little relief for an audience helplessly fixated on the impending doom.

It might not sound like a fun night out, but it is brilliant, provocative and engrossing theatre. And yes, I did jump in my seat. Again.

Hedda Gabler runs at Royal & Derngate, Northampton, until July 28.

 

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For your little Drama Queen – Theatrical birthday parties at Royal & Derngate

Here’s a press release from Royal & Derngate about their new birthday party idea. Rather them than me . . .

For parents looking for something a bit different for their child’s birthday party, Royal & Derngate now offers a new option – theatrical birthday parties packed with music, games and activities and with the excitement of a starring role in a mini theatrical performance!

Taking the hassle out of organising a party, the theatre considers every detail, tailoring it to suit each individual’s needs and catering for the ages of the children. Armed with the perfect party music, bold and beautiful craft materials, exquisite face paints and fabulous costumes for dressing up, Royal & Derngate’s professional team will be brimming with creative ideas and will lead the party from start to finish, ensuring each and every guest experiences a truly special birthday party.

The theatre can also provide a delicious selection of party food, so all that is left for parents to do is to enjoy the event in a safe and relaxed, family friendly environment.

Parties cost £150*, with an additional £5 per child if food is required. Parties are available for children up to 14 years, with a maximum of 25 children per party.

For more information or to book, please contact Natalie Diddams on 01604 655777 or email natalie.diddams@royalandderngate.co.uk.

*prices went up fifty quid after I originally posted this

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Transfer Day 2012 – the last of our offspring dips her toe into the school system

I’M sitting here wondering how The Girl got on at her First Morning At School. And realising what a wreck I’m going to be when she starts properly in September.

Today across most of the country is Transfer Day, when four-year-olds and 11-year-olds get the chance to visit their new classroom. Those already in the system, like our eight, 13 and 14 year olds, will be moving across school to a different classroom to meet their new teacher for September.

It’s supposed to give the newbies a little taste of school (whether it be a new primary or secondary) so when they start for real it doesn’t come as a shock. The Girl already attends a nursery attached to the school so is familiar with the basic setting. However, the benefit of familiarity doesn’t apply to all. Another little girl wandered over to me and The Girl this morning as we were waiting to go in and said: “I’m new and I don’t know anyone here yet.”

Bless her, and her anxious mum. She told us her name and Our Girl quickly dragged her off to meet the Girl Posse, all moving up from nursery and more than happy to have more females to swell their ranks. Potentially a life-long friendship made in a matter in seconds.

Transfer Day tends to be an icebreaker for the parents as well as the kids, at primary school at least. At secondary school, your 11-year-old is less likely to want you to hang around and kiss them goodbye at the gates. But at primary school, chances are you’ll come to know the other parents on the ‘gates’ rather well over the next seven years.

Most schools have an open day for new parents to give you an idea of what’s in store. There’s also a ‘home visit’ organised by the teaching staff, who come to your home in early September, before the official start of Reception Class, so they get an idea of what life at home is like. Yes, they’re checking up on you, but for good reason.

The Girl went off to sit on the carpet with her new class without so much as a backward glance, so I’m not worried about how she’ll cope. Nursery has taught her the basics required – sitting quietly on the book carpet with arms and legs crossed, going to the loo unaided, waiting your turn at the water table, hanging up your coat on a peg and ‘being kind’ to everyone.

The Girl starts school in September

There were very few wailers this morning, but the band of mums and dads hovering at the door knew that as soon as they were out of sight, they’d probably be forgotten as the excitement of the new situation and the care of the professional school staff distracted them from the unfamiliarity of it all.

Another ‘mum of many’ and I, leaving our youngest daughters in the care of their new teachers, admitted it seemed harder this time knowing that it would be our last Reception class transfer day, as neither of us have, or plan to have, any more children.

“I have a feeling it will be me in tears in September,” she said. And I suspect I may be joining her, discreetly, over a box of tissues.

I’ve never really suffered more than a lump in the throat when handing over the boys to the compulsory education system, which will consume their lives for the next 14 years. But waving off The Girl will mean I’m also waving goodbye to a part of my own life; the part filled with babies, toddlers and pre-schoolers, nappies, tantrums, and the delight of having a little person who throws themselves into your arms without any self-consciousness because You Are 100% Theirs.

However, having been this three times before doesn’t seem to have made me any more efficient or organised. Somehow, somewhere between school and home, I’ve managed to mislay all the paperwork I need to fill in and the school uniform I bought at open evening.

 

 

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Planning a festi-holiday: How to festival with family and a Camp Bestival 2012 preview

INSTEAD of searching the internet for prices of lovely sunny holidays abroad, I’m Googling levelling blocks. Not nice new swimsuits or sun-lotion, but levelling blocks.

These big cheese-shaped plastic blocks stop camper vans and caravans rolling off down a hill or all the blood rushing to your head when you have to sleep in one.

And for the fifth year in a row I’ll be spending my precious family break in a field, as we’ll be holidaying in our knackered old Japanese Bongo camper van.

Are you fired up for a home Olympic holiday, or planning to jet away to avoid it all this summer?

We had considered something different for our family holiday this year, other than our usual trip to a festival. But our bank balances never stretch far enough to take six of us abroad, and our annual trip to Dorset works so well we’re doing it all over again for the fourth year on the trot.

If you have children, or even if you don’t, I heartily recommend you look at what’s on offer at www.campbestival.net even if you feel like you’ve ‘done’ every festival or can’t face camping, let alone camping with kids.

Camp Bestival is the family-friendly little sister of the September Bestival festival on the Isle of Wight. It’s held each year over the last weekend in July after the schools have broken up for summer. The venue is the specular Lulworth Castle on the Dorset coast.

It’s a great combination of live music spanning the tastes of parents and teens, with a load of extra stuff for kids including the Gruffalo, Shrek, Dick & Dom, Mr Tumble and a Wall of Death! There’s a massive skatepark, street dance and DJs, comedy and jaw-dropping jousting. And as this year it coincides with the opening of the London Olympics, there’s a silly sports theme, which means you’ll see lots of families dressed in identical sports-related dressing up outfits. You can choose whether to join in or stick to the standard shorts and wellies combo.

If like us you have children spread in age from teens to tots, the site is contained enough to allow the older ones off the leash to go feral for an afternoon, while you wander around the kids’ field watching your younger ones test out ball pits and painting tents, dressing up stands and circus skills workshops. There’s something bonkers around every corner. You can also just opt to slouch about on one of many four poster sofas dotted around the festival site, cider in hand and watch the music on various stages.

Settling in

I’m not sure I can ever get as excited about a musical line-up after last year’s dream Friday-Saturday-Sunday offering of Blondie-Mark Ronson-Primal Scream. But there’s always something you’d like, whatever age or taste, from pop to classical.

The kids have already seen acts at Camp Bestival their mates are ‘well jell’ about, including Wretch 32, Katy B, Labyrinth, Florence and the Machine, Tiny Tempah, Friendly Fires and  Calvin Harris.

Camp Bestival’s music is fabulously eclectic, and this year is no different, with everything from chart stars (Hot Chip, Stooshe, Josh Kumra, Rizzle Kicks, Delilah) to old-skool classics (Happy Mondays, Kool and The Gang, Earth Wind and Fire, Adam Ant) and the downright bonkers (Rolf Harris, The Cuban Brothers).

There’s very little you wouldn’t let your kids see (except perhaps the comedy tent where we once, accidentally, exposed our under tens to Frankie Boyle in full-flow . . .). This year’s comedy offerings include the tax-dodging Jimmy Carr, which could be a lot of fun. Rufus Hound and Andrew Maxwell are regulars too.

“Daddy, they’re singing my song”

If you are camping, rather than coming in on a day ticket, there are several options. You can simply bring a tent, or you can actually pay to have someone put one up in advance for you. You can bring a camper van or even hire a teepee, or a Yurt, a Squrt, Cloudhouses, Podpads, Bell Tents, gypsy caravans or even a massive Airstream Trailer (if you have a couple of grand to spare). If you bring a car and a tent you can hire a trolley to drag your kit from car park to camping field. Or bring your own.

Camping with kids isn’t as bad as it sounds once you’ve got used to the idea of possibly wearing the same clothes for three days straight and eating crisps for breakfast. With six of us in the family, and no posh cooking or refrigeration devices, I usually bring a camping stove, kettle, gas lamps, wind up lamps and head torches, plenty of gas canisters, a frying pan, a saucepan, and many, many tins of beans and pouches of soup as I can, plus lots of packs of tortilla wraps, and bags of fruit. Milk is UHT and in bottles with screwcap lids. That way everyone gets something to eat or a cup of tea back at the tent so we aren’t always paying the best part of £30 each meal.

You’ll need wellies and warm waterproof coats as well as thin summer layers and plimsols. The weather, believe it or lot, is tentatively predicted to be good the last week in July, but even if we are spared the rain, it can get cold at night when you are sitting watching bands or traipsing back to tents, so blankets, coats and woolly hats are worth bringing too.

We invested £50 in a big metal garden trolley last year with pneumatic tyres. We left it at the tent during the day and took it out each evening loaded with blankets, drinks bottles, packets of tissues (for the loos) and coats, and when four-year-old Bonnie got tired, she sat/slept in it. It was a workout to get it up the hill to the site each night but well worth the effort and money.

Bonnie may only be four but she’s been to five festivals and survived. One year we did bring a pram, which was just a lightweight McLaren buggy. It got battered and mucky but did the job in the days before Bonnie could walk long distances. I’d leave any heavy or expensive, non-off-road prams at home. We were relieved when our heavy travel cot wasn’t needed to contain her in the tent anymore, and now we use two blow-up Ready Beds for the smaller two and camp beds for the older boys.

The most complicated and stressful parts of festivaling with family is the packing. You’ll need less than you think, and yet probably leave something essential at home. There are general stores on site selling everything from nappies to tent pegs, so don’t panic. Get there as early as you can and give yourself time to set up an organised camp. By the Sunday or Monday you’ll be stinking and tired and won’t care which groundsheet goes in which bag, but it would be good to remember where you put them.

Mobile phone reception at Lulworth is terrible, so be prepared to give up the Smartphone for a couple of days. Make sure you have regular times and places to meet up if you should separate and remember each child has a security wristband in case the get lost.

And most of all, enjoy it! It’s not that often these days we get to spend time with our kids without distractions and worries. You’ll probably find they pal up with the kids in a neighbouring tent very quickly and you may even get on well with other grown-ups too. The Camp Bestival website has a good forum section where you’ll find advice from regular festival goers.

Festival not as exciting as my phone

When you arrive it’s worth getting a programme as soon as possible to plan what you really want to see. You won’t necessarily get to see everything and need to factor in ‘down-time’ to let you recharge, especially if you have younger children who will get tired quickly. Don’t worry if all your normal routines go out of kilter, you’re on holiday.

There are a limited number of day tickets available if you wanted to try out the festival vibe without the camping (although make sure you book any external accommodation fast as everything will be booked up).

Adult festival tickets, including camping, cost £175 (add an extra tenner if you want to camp from Thursday July  rather than Friday).

Students pay £170, teens aged 15-17 pay £110 and 11-14s £95 (all under 18s must be accompanied by an adult and camp with their families).

Anyone aged ten or under gets in for free but you MUST book a ticket for them anyway.

Reviews of previous Camp Bestival outings can be found here (2011) and here (2010)

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The unsociable adult

My sons have been going to cricket on Friday evenings for several years now, and I still feel like the newbie.

At first I used to stay while they played, buying the younger offspring a bag of penny sweets from the tuckshop/bar and sitting on the club house step to watch the player-offspring miss catches or be swamped as they walked out to bat by the enormous pads, gloves and helmets.
It occurred to me this evening, sat freezing in the wind as the eight- year-old and 13- year-old trained, that I didn’t know a single other parent there. Not anyone’s name, or even their kids’ names.
Yes, I know a few of the coaches, but there’s a huge bunch of parents who sit together and drink and chat for over two hours every week. They all seem to know each other, probably from school or living close to the ground, whereas we live in the town centre where the neighbours are either teenagers in bedsits, students, or pensioners.
I’m not after pity, despite sounding like a complete saddo.

Mostly now I go and sit in the car and catch up on emails on my phone, or nip to the shops for whatever essential food items I forget to buy earlier.
Daughter, 4, meanwhile, manages to find new friends every where we go. She simply saunters up to the child most similar in age and asks if they want to play. Sometimes they say no. So she tries again and usually within five minutes she’s kicking a ball about or swinging upside down from railings. The boys have to do little more than produce a football to have a posse of new pals in seconds.
While they’re socialising, I’m in the car, feeling like Hilly No-Mates.

I didn’t used to be like this. When and why do we stop wanting to make friends?

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Sick of chipping away at bricks to recover ruined garden; an update on the fallen wall

THERE’S been very little gardening done by me since April. Not because of the wet weather – which hasn’t helped – but because of the couple of tonnes of brick that landed on our back garden two months ago.

Since the huge wall fell (see details here) we found that the insurance company wouldn’t pay out because it hadn’t been ‘hit by something’ (yeah, thanks for nothing Cooperative Insurance), and that the neighbouring Jesus Army house wasn’t covered either.

This means we do as much as we can ourselves, and then pay £2,000 for a brickie to come and re-build it.

Starting to clear into piles

Every weekend, every free time that Bloke and I had, we’ve been out in the back garden chipping away at piles and piles of Victorian bricks, getting the mortar off each one, sorting them into piles depending on whether they are still whole, and covering everything with yet more sand and dust.

Meanwhile my allotment has been completely neglected – prompting a polite but disappointed call from the allotment committee asking why my plot is such a mess. We’ve managed one trip since then to just strum the worst of it back and stick some beans in. I certainly don’t want it this way, I had high hopes for good crops this year, but have completely missed the window of opportunity because of those damn, damn bricks.

 

Wall foundations intact

We put the majority of the bricks into two big piles and since then have been standing chipping away with chisels and wallpaper scrappers to get rid of the old mortar and leave clean sides. The mortar is like sand, and sometimes comes off easily but mostly needs repeated hitting to dislodge it. It’s boring, mucky, repetitive work.

Pallets filling

 

Bloke and I have filled a pallet and a half now, and the bulk of the piles have been cleaned. Next door did a load in the first couple of weeks but haven’t moved on since then, which is frustrating. Their garden was untouched by the fall, while ours is destroyed and our privacy removed.

The kids can’t play out and are thoroughly bored because our weekends are spent sorting bricks.

The garden has been remarkably resilient. All the plants in the wall-side borders were completely flattened and under bricks for at least a week. However, two large climbing roses have righted themselves, despite no support, and are covered in buds about to bloom.

The raspberries were all broken off at the ground but have thrown up lots of new shoots, so I’ve dug them up and put them in big pots. Also moved to pots are the un-killable hardy geraniums, a hosta, another shrub rose, lots of crocosmia bulbs and three varieties of clematis. Still in the beds next to the wall are several huge ferns which came back from the dead and the climbing hydrangea petiolaris, which is in full bloom. Even the lawn is trying hard to recover, although very patchy and full of weeds.

Surviving border in May

 

The surviving border, which has been neglected because I simply couldn’t get to it to weed, is looking great under the circumstances. But there is a lot of bindweed starting to strangle the foxgloves and delphiniums, and the buttercups, while pretty, are taking over. Ivy on the lower left wall is usually cut right back in May but has been allowed to grow unchecked and is shading the border, making the plants lean for the light.

Once the piles are finished, which should be this week on our side, we need to dismantle the remains of the standing wall, which will require a whole lot more chip, chip, bloody chipping. Then we can get the brickie in, if he’ll still come,  to decide what to do next. The soil on the neighbour’s side is a foot and half higher than on ours and will need digging out and pinning back.

At least the wall seems to have a good foundation. Having expected the bricks to only go down one or two below the soil line on our side, it actually goes down about five bricks deep and even widens at the bottom.

It’s all been a thoroughly depressing process which has really brought me very low over recent weeks. It seems ridiculous to get depressed about a garden but every morning it’s so sad to see the garden in such a state. Allotment guilt is weighing heavy on my mind and I’ve just had to kiss off any chance of actual gardening this year.

Ho hum.

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Stunning, sickening and a huge success – Review of the Bacchae, Northampton Festival of Chaos season

THERE were points in Royal & Derngate’s adventurous modern retelling of Euripides’ The Bacchae where I had to look down and attempt to read the program. In the dark.

For all the knowledge that we were sitting in my former employer’s old printing press watching actors in a play, the last scenes were pretty shocking. And rightly so. After all, this isn’t panto, and I’m a total wuss when it comes to horror.

The Greek tragedy tells the story of Dionysus, half-God, half human, who returns to the city of his traumatic birth to wreak havoc on the human family who dishonoured his dead mother. (There’s a considerable complicated back story we don’t hear about in the two hours without an interval, so worth doing some homework if you aren’t familiar with two and a half thousand-year-old mythology).

Amanda Wilkin in The Bacchae – Pics ©Robert Day

The staging is brave – a huge space, complete with burnt-out car – within the decaying former printing press at the Chronicle & Echo, whose editorial staff still work next door. (It was originally arranged and adapted to be staged in a working casino, but thankfully that location fell through).

It was odd for Bloke and I, who had been part of the Chron generation who actually went in and out of the press halls when they were fully operational. You could smell the newsprint and almost hear the deafening noise of the presses that once filled the space.

The set designer has used this modern location to good effect – especially as the audience is in tiered seating very close to the action with TV screens above their heads.  The hall’s upstairs offices are used to great effect and amazing musicians are hidden up there in the balcony throughout. Take a coat though – it’s pretty chilly this June.

Although the principle antagonism is centred on the male leads of the lascivious Dionysus (Ery Nzaramba) and his arrogant cousin Pentheus, King of Thebes (Liam Bergin), it’s the women who dominate the action. The brilliant ‘chorus’ of the Bacchae, a girl gang entranced by Dionysus’s message of freedom, bewitch the women of Thebes to run animalistically amok in the desert (off stage). The Bacchantes presence is particularly effective during the ‘justice’ song (and yes, I jumped).

There’s ‘light relief’ in the form of Pentheus’s grandfather Cadmus and his blind prophet pal Tiresius who camp about the stage enjoying Dionysus’s wine, but the comedy is quickly eclipsed the imposing willowy figure of Pentheus’s regal mother Agave. Enticed to abandon herself to the freedom of the desert women, she returns blood-soaked and bonkers. A jaw-dropping and draining performance by the excellent Kathryn Pogson.

There’s some relief as it’s over, not because the show isn’t good – it really is – but because there’s certainly no happy ending. And your bum will be very numb from the seating.

I was surprised to see the majority of the audience seemed to be pensioners. Not that I have anything against pensioners, heaven forbid. But I expected a more varied demographic. (I witnessed several shocked older ladies elbowing their husbands and mouthing their distaste during the ruder and sweary-er points; it was like watching embarrassing sex scenes on TV with your parents).

There are parts of the production that just didn’t work for me – the over-long TV news sequence is clichéd and unnecessary. The key scenes where Dionysus turns his ranting, despotic, misogynist cousin from city slicker into cross-dressing acolyte (and takes off his pants) had as much spark as a mini Metro engine on a cold rainy morning.

But I loved the women. And the setting, and the ambition of the thing. The cast are amazing, particularly Amanda Wilkin, Alicia Davies, Donna Berlin and Philip Cairns. And you really have to give the whole company a standing ovation for the graft they’ve put in running this draining story in rotation with Blood Wedding at the Royal, (worth seeing after The Bacchae (see review here ).

Ery Nzaramba and Liam Bergin

You really should go and see The Bacchae, regardless of your age or knowledge of theatre. You should see it because it is a unique and thoroughly entertaining experience AND IT’S IN NORTHAMPTON.

You should go. Go on, get some culture, buy some tickets now.

The Bacchae runs at the Printing Press in Earl Street, Northampton until Saturday June 30. Call Royal & Derngate on 01604 624811.

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HotBin continued…

Now after removing slightly sticky compost, just jiggled bottom layer of compost a little, mixed un-composted top layer with few handfuls of bark and refilled.

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Then attached new straps received in post from HotBin HQ which should keep tighter seal.
They are very strong, I’d advise threading first then looping over bin before tightening. I’ve trimmed mine after fixing as they are very long.

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Hotbin emptying in pictures

Hotbin has been a little neglected. Needs emptying and new straps putting on.

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It’s quite wormy.

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Pink bin top recent layer, purple is compost but with some lumps of unaltered cauliflower and leek!

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Loads of brandling worms, so not really been keeping consistently hot. I blame weather and lack of prunings to keep topped up.
Worth saying that’s ALL our kitchen waste – household of six – since January!

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