Cooking rubbish

It was the recycling open day at the AmeyCespa recycling plant just outside Cambridge, so I went along to have a look. I've always wanted to see what happens to our rubbish  and this is the plant that pocesses it.

From the road all you can see is a large green hangar. And no sign of any rubbish as you drive in and park in a large (clean) field. But as soon as you get near the hangar, a thick, clinging, undefinably unpleasant smell hangs all over.

Inside the main rubbish decomposition hall

Inside the huge hangar was a vast flat mass of rubbish the size of a football field, with high speed conveyor belts bringing more rubbish to one end. I could see the occasional recognizable object, and even some flashing lights from a toy zip past the viewing gallery.

The smell came from the decomposing rubbish - it is kept wet with sprays and heated up so that it rots faster. Behind the thick glass windows of the viewing gallery the smell is mildly unpleasant, but to go into the main hall you have to wear breathing apparatus to filter the fumes. It takes about 4-6 weeks for the rubbish to get from one end to the other of this huge contraption, and by the time it gets to the other end, it's reduced by about 2/3 and is ready to go to landfill.

There were some very strange objects on display that had been fished out of the garbage before getting stuck in the machinery including a large fire extinguishers and a huge anchor.

The landfill site

John Powley presenting prizes for Ready Steady Cook

There was a display of archaeological finds from the site which showed that around the time of the Romans, the place had been used as a settlement with - appropriately - a large rubbish pit.

The bus tour of the site took about 40 minutes (it's huge) and included views of mountains of crisp packets (un-recyclable at the moment), a deodorizing area (to protect local houses), and miles of tangled video tape which seems to get everywhere.



Finally,  I had time to look around the marquees, at all the community groups and council recycling displays. There were recycled wood projects,  and recycled paint (for community groups to use), and tips for reducing food waste. At one end a cooking stand was set up. Before I knew it, I was co-opted into a Ready, Steady Cook competition. The other lady made risotto and omelet, while I made leek and potato soup and ratatouille with rice. We each said that the others' dishes were delicious, but the judge, Leader of Cambridgeshire Council, Councillor John Powley, decided that my leek and potato soup was the winner. My prize was a goodie bag of gadgets, and a nice apron. The food was eaten by the Council staff who'd organised the competition. The official photographer took lots of pictures and I went home promising myself that next time I visit a rubbish plant, I'll be sure to have a shower in the morning and wear smarter clothes.

Spring

This has been an amazing spring. We've had virtually no rain for 2 months -  in March there was 3mm of rain at the Botanic garden - 1/10th of the average March rainfall since 1848. That hasn't stopped the trees from budding, blooming and shooting- it's been a delight everyday. Can it be so much more beautiful than last year? It feels that way.

Apple tree on Adams Road, 9th April

 

Unknown tree on Grange road, April 9th

Pine tree on the allotment, shortly before we cut off the lower branches, 30th April.

 Winter jasmine flowering in the churchyard of Little St Mary's 20th March.

Now there is so much pollen in the air and so little rain, that the cars parked in the streets all look completly dusty with yellow pollen - normal in a big city, where it would be dust, but it looks very strange here.

April 29th 2011 and 1993

It was the Royal Wedding, and we had a street party. It was also Ario's 18th birthday. The Wedding was fun to watch, the street party a good show of neighbourly solidarity, but the birthday was the highlight.

18 years ago we were living in Dalston (Hackney), and when the contractions started my friend Kim came in her car to pick Youssef and I up and drive us to the Royal London Hospital in Whitechapel. Ario was born at 4pm-ish, in a labour room seemingly crowded with people, including my sister Anne Louise, 2 or 3 midwives, a pediatrician, a doctor and a few others - all there to watch (and possibly help with) Ario's arrival feet first. Because he was breech and he was being born 'naturally', the doctor suggested that I should give birth standing up, to give gravity a chance to help out. 'Standing up' is a loose term for being supported on either side by Anne Louise and a midwife like an boxer coming out of the ring after a knock out. My legs had little to do with it.

 Anyway, 18 years on, Mariam and I watched Ario unwrap his presents with one eye on the royal wedding and another eye on the tomato tart in the oven for the street party.

Who would have thought such an ugly little thing would turn into a lovely tall, polite, handsome, gifted, and quiet spoken young man? I wish Youssef could see him now.

Then we went out to the street party, armed with the piping hot tomato tart.

A Cambridge bike story

The bike parking facilities at Cambridge station are scandalous - thousands of bikes, never enough places to fix your bike to, and hundreds that look abandoned and never move. If you're in a rush, you can easily miss your train trying to find a space to put your bike. They are so crowded together that it's had to see where one bike begins and another ends. Nevertheless it is convenient and free, so lots of people cycle to the station to take the train to London every day.

Mick is one of these people - and he's very hard-working and often comes home late in the evening. One night he arrived back, tired after a long day, ready to cycle home. When he went to unlock his bike some complete idiot had managed to padlock their bike to his.

It was dark and rainy and he was furious. He wrote a note and left it in the other bike's basket. The note read: "You've locked your bike to mine. It's dark. I'm going to have to get a taxi home. Pease be more careful."

The next day when he got home from work he went to look for his bike. On it he found a note that said: "So sorry about your bike. Was in a rush to get the train for the premiere of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight at Covent Garden (absolutely fantastic!). Please accept my apologies."  And enclosed was a £5 note.



Sign in Latin and Greek on the railings of a house in Portugal Street. Did the Romans have 'duae rotae' then?

Valentine's Day Photos

It was a lovely day. The photos are enough - Cambridge was looking at it's best. 

The Wren Library, Trinity

The fountain at the Botanic Garden

The ancient tradition of barrell racing

A good day out on Boxing Day, this ancient tradition goes back to 2005 when the four Granchester pubs decided it would be a good way to bring in some extra customers. The best part was the brisk walk across the Meadows - gloriously covered in crisp snow sparkling in the sunshine. We had to hurry as we were late - past pushchairs, tourists admiring the view, people throwing snowballs, and others rushing to get to the start of the races.









The first (men's) race was already over when we arrived, but there were plenty more to go. Women, all comers, regional and county championships were still to come. The latter consisted of representatives from nearby villages: Barton, Newnham, Madingly (no-one showed up), and the shops of Burwash Manor.



The spectators are as much the entertainment as the contestants - an excellent selection of fashion knits, bobble hats and designer wellies.

 

The fun is in seeing the different techniques - bent over from behind, sharp slaps from the side, brute force, random violent pushes zigzagging across the course... 

Carol Singing

We've been carol singing twice this year: once at a candlelight service at Trumpington church, and then a few days later, the Newnham carol singing in the streets round our neighbourhood.

The snow around the church was still quite fresh and undistrubed. It was dark but the moonlight reflected off the snow gave plenty of light to see by as we walked up the icy path to the church door. I wondered why there was already singing in the church even though we were 20 minutes early - was the choir practicing?

Unfortunately we'd got the time wrong by an hour and the service was in full swing. Three car-fulls of us came, about 10 minutes apart, so we kept disturbing the service as each time the lady ushers had to find carol sheets and candles for the next lot of us to arrive. I got the giggles every time the door opened again for another load of Squires to trail in... But we were made welcome, and we sang heartily. I got there in time for 'In the bleak midwinter' which is one of my favourites, and the reading about the shepherds coming to the stable - so there was plenty more to go. At the end we had mince pies and mulled wine and were very glad we'd come.  There were a few people there that I knew - I'm always surprised at that even though I've been here nearly 8 years so it's not really extraordinary.

The Newnham carols were fun too - numbers swelled by various visiting in-laws (or in my case, Emma). We met at the Co-op at 5pm and sang around our three violins. No money collection - just pure pleasure. It was very cold and dark with snow and ice still making the road treacherous. Lois had put up the sheet music at our 'stations': starting at the Co-op, then the butcher's, down to the bend on Grantchester Meadows and then the tree at the end of Marlowe Road. Two or three carols at each stop - just enough for the fiddlers' finger not to get too cold. We got carried away at the end and sang 'We wish you a Merry Christmas' a few extra time just for fun.  Idefix the dog was there too and paid me the compliment of not attacking my ankles. The brazier, mince pies, flapjacks, and mulled wine were waiting for us at the other end of Marlowe Road - but even that wasn't enough to keep Emma warm in her London coat and thin shoes so we had to make an early escape back to the fire side at 11A.

There was one more carol singing - a short story I read by Laurie Lee about his childhood. He tells  the story of the boys in his village traipsing through miles of snow to the houses of the neighbouring gentry: it's true and unsentimental.