Sandy Hook in Glens Falls

 The first we heard of it, we were in a small room in the chemotherapy ward of Glens Falls Hospital. Anne Louise was lying in bed, hooked up to her bags of Taxol for her last of 8 treatments. The nurse came in to check all was OK, and in a choked voice told us that special news bulletins were reporting 18 children shot dead in a primary school.

We were shocked of course, but frankly, another mass shooting in a distant place didn't really touch us.  We had more immediate things to worry about such as how the Taxol was going to affect Anne Louise this time round.

That afternoon, we were at A Mirror's Image - a hair salon, for a hair cut. Mine obviously, not Anne Louise's who had her hair shaved off there 3 months ago so that she wouldn't have to go through the process of it falling out gradually in clumps during her treatment. Everyone was talking about the shootings. Rumours were flying around: the killer shot his father first, his mother was a teacher, he got in because the office staff knew him... I had some updates from the internet which my hairdresser broadcast to the whole salon.

There must have been 20 people there, some joining in the discussion others listening, hairdressers and clients. The adults didn't sound moved: like us earlier, they were shocked, but not touched.  Several children listened silently from raised chairs,  looking rather bleakly at themselves in the mirror.

During the week I kept to my routine of long walks around the town while Anne Louise was at work during the day. One day I went by the school. The stars and stripes was flying at half-mast. Everything else was normal. There were army recruitment posters with a picture of a proud looking soldier stuck with tape to a lamp post next to the bus stop. A man stopped to watch me take a photo. I wondered if he thought I might be some kind of threat - planning something maybe?

Yesterday, Jessie came home from school with news that someone has threatened to shoot people in the high school tomorrow. The authorities have announced that the police will be protecting the school. No one is taking it seriously - it was posted on Facebook - but still, you never know, and parents want to feel their children are safe.

Today is exactly a week since the shootings. Nothing happened here in Glens Falls. There is a measured editorial by Mark Frost in the local paper, The Chronicle,  calling for 'not more laws, but consensus' over gun control. The National Rifle Association, on the other hand, says that 'good guys with guns stop bad guys with guns' and is calling for all schools to have armed guards.

 Jessie went to her end of term Christmas party. Apparently the boy who issued the threat is in North Carolina. The police were in the high school anyway. She came home safely.

Light and Dark in Stockholm

Stockholm is at its darkest in November. Before the snow falls the days are very short, and it feels dark all the time. Once the snow comes, the darkness is lit up. I was there at its darkest. On top of the long nights it was also raining constantly so even in the daytime it felt dark, the streets were empty and the cobblestones glistened menacingly in the yellow street lights. I couldn't help feeling I was in the middle of a Nordic crime drama.

It was my first trip, so as soon as I'd dropped off my suitcase I wanted to explore. I headed for the old town, Gamla Stan. With hindsight I was lucky. It was completely deserted. At the time I wished for sunshine, people, and animation. I got dark, cold, echoing streets. The only footsteps were mine.  There was no map, no guide, no one to ask, I had no idea what I was looking at. I could just peek out from my rain hood and soak in the atmosphere. The camera got rained on, and rain drops created strange effects on the lens.


I found an open restaurant and went in for a bowl of utterly delicious fish soup. Restored and warm I set off again to walk around the whole island. Islands of light spilled out from the occasional shop window. A covered alley way to my right led down to the dock side. The cobblestones were slippery and uneven  underfoot and I had to look at my feet.


There were shops full of knitwear, clogs, hat and gloves, and wooden toys. There was a 'hard rock' shop with Dracula t-shirts and fluorescent green tights. I came to a square which would have been busy in the daytime, but now was deserted except for an empty taxi cab waiting. Further on was a shop full of model sailing ships and brass navigation instruments. I started to feel lucky to get to immerse myself in the feeling of the old streets, with so few reminders of modern life to distract.

Eventually I came out by the quayside. Now the wind really hit me and the rain lashed across me. I looked over at other islands, other parts of the city, bridges and modern buildings reflecting blue, purple and yellow lights across the black water. 


I passed a very large solid-looking building to my left which turned out later to be the royal palace, but just looked very dark to me. I kept the water to my right, noticed gulls following the current, wheeling and coming back in circles. It was eerie to see their white shapes keeping close to the surface of the water, the blackness seeming to pull them along.

Strings of lights on Norrbro

Up ahead was a bridge lit up with strings of white lights, the first real brightness I'd seen that evening. The lights shone on the dark waters and despite the rain, I dawdled to take in the gulls, the lights and the old bridges. A group of young men came by talking - in the silence they seemed loud, but not threatening.

Helgeandsholmen island, Stockholm

The next day I was staying in Lidingo, a wooded island on the outskirts of Stockholm. We woke up to the first of the year's snowfall. Not much for Sweden - only a couple of centimeters. But that's all it needed to turn the darkness into light.

The woods around the Lidingo Hotel with fresh snow

Allotment water supplies

There's no water on our allotment. That is, there is no running water. As a result we all have different systems for capturing water and it is great fun to walk around looking at all the different contraptions people have set up. 

 Last year, there was no rain from March to June. This year we've had non-stop rain from March to June. Literally. There's still an official drought though as we've not recovered from several dry years.  So we have filled up every possible bucket and water container this year, but still it would be good to have more reliable water supplies.

  A group of us are investigating possible water sources including a borehole or pumping water from the river. Boreholes looked a good bet initially, but having spoken to several drilling companies, it is looking less promising. We were hoping for a hand-pump (like a pump from a French village square). Now it looks like water might be at least 30m deep which means that we'd have to have some kind of electric (solar?) pump for it - not to mention the cost. They are talking about £6-7,000! There's more work to do on this before we can apply to the council for some funding of a realistic project.

But we can't expect the council to fund it all anyway. So in parallel we have to think about whether there are enough people who are willing to contribute their (our) own money. And then, what happens about those who don't contribute - will they have access to water? There's still a lot to think about. 

Activists

I've been in Kenya working with Article 19's East and West Africa offices and it's been an eye-opening experience to see at first hand how activism is done.

Keeping up with the news in workshop breaks

The workshop group included people from Kenya, Ivory Coast, Senegal and the UK. Many were lawyers, and some were grassroots activists. It was a very lively group. Two participants, Keffa and Leonard from IDPAC, a partner of Article 19, had been displaced from their homes due to political violence at election time - in Keffa's case, 3 times in 15 years. They shared stories with us of how activists they'd trained were standing up for their rights and effectively lobbying Kenyan officials to get the compensation they are entitled to.

Nairobi graffiti lampooning corrupt officials

There was some discussion of the upcoming trial of the Kenyan officials who are accused of deliberately organising the political violence and who are to be tried by the International Criminal Court in the Hague. Article 19's work is closely linked to major political issues and their work is always at risk of being derailed by new violence.

Andrew with Khadi and Bruno of the Senegal office

Even more immediate, one of the participants, Andrew Smith was tweeting and emailing his MP during the workshop and managed to get onto Politics Home, several national newspapers, the Huffington Post and interviewed on Shropshire Radio during the lunch break! Andrew had pushed his MP, a government Minister, to state his views on gay marriage (anti) - this had stirred up a storm in London since the government is officially in favour. And all while Andrew was apparently fully engaged in a workshop on project management in Nairobi! You can read his version of events and more on his views here.

It was a revelation to me how much can be done by the power of social media by just one committed person, asking a basic question of his elected representative: where do you stand?

Day out in Kenya

Khadi, Andrew, Bruno

Six days in Kenya, 5 of them working hard - and a couple of afternoons exploring.

You don't even have to go to an 'attraction', just walking around is interesting. But I was lucky to have three companions: Andrew (UK), Bruno (Cote d'Ivoire) and Khadi (Senegal). Our taxi driver, Jack, overcame our skepticism and convinced us that the Giraffe sanctuary and the Wildlife Park were good destinations. We had some doubts as we sat in traffic for the best part of an hour (you do that going anywhere in Nairobi), but even sitting there we had fun, squashed into the back seat of his car eating our picnic lunch from the hotel.

Dr Karim, witch doctor,  sorts it all out

Bruno feeding giraffe

Picnic box contents: water, juice, yoghurt, orange, pineapple, sandwich, piping hot roast chicken leg dripping in delicious gravy, bun, cheese, crackers.. and probably other things I've forgotten.

Jack regaled us with stories of his long-distance lorry driving across East and Central Africa - Somalia, Malawi, Rwanda, Uganda, Tanzania, South Sudan... in South Sudan he was taken hostage for 2 months by kidnappers extorting money from his boss. There were about 8 trucks and drivers taken - they didn't bother to lock them up, just didn't give them much food, and kept them in the middle of nowhere. His boss finally paid a ransom to free them (and the trucks, obviously).

Tree top walkway

We talked about Khadi's time in Paris, about Bruno growing up in a village hunting wild pig and trapping small animals with his father, and Andrew's experiences at Kings (Cambridge) and as an activist.  We fed pellets to the giraffes, saw strange birds, felt sorry for a captive rhino, laughed at the ostrich, and wandered along a deserted tree-top walkway looking for lions and cheetahs hidden in the underbrush below us.

Leopard

As it grew dark we were propositioned by a park ranger who suggested he could let us into the cheetah cage, but we decided against that, and headed back to the traffic jams and, in my case, a long evening at the airport.

Girls' school bus in a jam - motto "Yes we can!" on the back

Flooding around Cambridge

The Cam surging through the sluice at the Mill Pond

Grantchester Meadows (Newnham end) under water

   It feels like a Biblical Flood! Forty days and forty nights it's been raining - at least. I've never seen it so wet: this part of the country is usually very dry, and it is rare to get wet riding a bike round town (which we do every day). But this month has been different. Even Mariam has worn a raincoat to school and that's unheard of.

The river is really high and flowing very fast  - but that does happen regularly after heavy rain.

What is more unusual is the flooding on the Meadows. The river burst it's banks and flooded most of the lower lying fields on the path to Grantchester, as well as the fen just on the edge of town by the Mill Pond. We forget that they are not just there for our pleasure and so we can admire the cow parsley in flower. These fields and green spaces are also there as a flood plain. A hundred years ago, the fields flooding was a common occurrence which made 'fen skating' possible in freezing weather. 

High water near Byron's Pool

There was a flock of over 40 pink footed geese on the flooded meadows, dabbling happily in the muddy grass. Up at Byron's Pool the weir was under water, and the river had risen to cover many of the new wooden platforms and steps built recently for the reserve.

Coe Fen under water (doing its job as a flood plain)

Rare ray of light on the river at 'Dead man's corner'

The corner tree

Neighbours discussing what to do around the tree

The tree on the corner of our street needs a makeover - or at least the muddy bit of earth around it does. So, in a fit of what I like to think of as public spiritedness  I contacted Transition Cambridge to see if they might be interested in helping with some planting.

We decided to have a meeting around the tree, and I stuck leaflets in letter boxes, posters on fences, talked to a few neighbours, and then waited for the day.

There was a good turnout, about a dozen people came (and went) - even though it was about -10C (the coldest day for many years) at 10am that morning. I had gone out with my hair still slightly wet so found it frozen to my head within minutes.

It was surprising how strongly people feel about the tree. One consideration is that it must still be able to be used as a play area and for children's bake sales in good weather. At the other end of the age scale, several elderly people would like a bench there, and others pointed out that the space was needed for buggies/wheelchairs as the pavement was problematic. My idea was a low wall/bench with herbs planted in a raised bed. That didn't get anywhere though: objections ranged from dogs pooing on the plants to damage to the tree from earth on the roots.

Transition Cambridge's mission is to plant edible things and they only have a small budget. At one point the nice lady from TC asked whether we really want any changes at all? There emerged a growing consensus around some kind of bench, so that's progress! But there's still a way to go to find something that meets everyone's needs.

Fen Skating

The Anchor at Sutton Gault

We woke up early today to find a heavy frost had covered every twig and leaf with a lattice of crystals. It was about -10C in Cambridge and even colder out on the fens. Despite scruples about wasting petrol just to enjoy myself, I packed a flask of hot water, teabags, bananas and a hot cross bun and set off for the nearest place for fen skating which, according to the daily updated  where to skate web page, was Sutton Gault.

The Anchor pub on the Old Bedford River is the landmark for the skating. All it takes is a few inches of water covering the fields, and a good frost, and you have miles and miles of open air, totally free, skating. In the 1850s it was an incredibly popular sport - the champions were celebrities of the day.  Have a look at this history of fen skating and this fen skating video for more info and to get an idea of what it looks like when there are serious skaters on the ice.

 Today it could have been a classic seaside scene: deck-chairs, flasks of tea and sandwiches, people of all ages skating, playing ice hockey, taking their dogs for a walk on the ice. It was only slightly colder - which didn't stop anyone enjoying themselves.

 Everything was stunningly beautiful with the dusting of hoarfrost. The reeds were humming with birds feeding on the seed-heads. Two swans flew overhead. Coots warmed themselves on the sunny bank. A muntjac deer disappeared into the thicket along the path. I took a picture of some exotic looking birds which turned out to be Egyptian geese. 

I'll be back next year with skates as well as a flask of tea.

Cowparsley with hoarfrost

Egyptian geese

A tale of two Christmases: 1918 and 2011

All of us on the beach

We had a really lovely family Christmas this year. Eighteen of us gathered together in a large welcoming house, with log fires, warm comfortable beds and lots of good food. We had a lovely time just being together: going for walks, playing games, cooking in teams, and taking turns looking after baby Thomas. We aren't together all that often, and now that the children are older it is a lot of fun seeing them all getting along and contributing so much to the family in different ways.

When we got back from our week away, I had an urge to tidy up the attic. I came across some letters and diaries written by my French great-grandfather, Docteur Athanase Linard. He was called up to serve as a doctor in the First World War, and spent the best part of 4 years away from home, traveling from one place to another, setting up field hospitals, or following troops into battle. In the Somme, he was on horseback, at other times and places he traveled by train. He wrote letters - often daily, though we don't have them all - back to his wife Marie, and his three teenage daughters: Genevieve (my grandmother), Jeanne, and Madeleine.
 

Interrupted letter

I noticed some of the letters were written in December 1918 and I was curious why he was still away from  home (since the war was over), and how he spent his Christmas.

Postcard of Kreuznach

He seems to have been sent here and there - moving on at an hour's notice - in the weeks before Christmas 1918. He keeps referring in his letters to the fact that he hopes to be home on leave for Christmas, though he has given up hope of being 'liberated' (demobbed) because of what he refers to as the Germans 'causing trouble'. In the week before Christmas he is in Western Germany, in the Rhine valley - drinking Rhineland wine - in Mainz, , Langenlonsheim, Kreuznach, St Wendel.

As he says on the 19th Dec from Mainz: "Je fais de l’occupation et j’ai franchi le Rhin en vainqueur comme nos ancêtres il y a cent ans." (Just like our ancestors a hundred years ago, I've crossed the Rhine as a victor and now I'm part of the occupying forces.)

In every letter he refers to his hope of getting leave for Christmas and how much he's looking forward to seeing his daughters. It's not till the 21st that he gives up hope and tells them that he is to be serving at Mainz hospital for Christmas and until he gets demobbed.

On the 26th he writes a long letter home describing how he spent Christmas. This was his day:

Letter describing Christmas day

• 10am mass in the cathedral
• 1pm present distribution around the Christmas tree at the hospital for 100 wounded soldiers and 700 liberated french POWs with Mrs Rothschild (pearls the size of cherries in her ears) very busily involved in everything
• lunch for the above in two sittings of 400 each
• 2pm Generals Mangin ("petit, noiraud") and Marchand arrive
• Marseillaise is played
• Film show for everyone 

Despite being surrounded by so many people, I think Dr Linard felt alone - missing his wife and daughters, and not being home for Christmas. He enjoyed the day, but was no doubt making mental notes of things to write home about.  Writing on the morning of the 26th he even promises his girls a second letter in the afternoon. I am so thankful that in 2011 we are in peacetime, in plenty, and we could be all together as a family.

Making lavashak (fruit leather) in Iran

It's the depth of winter here, and I've been eating lavashak -  which to me is like essence of summer. 

Lavashak is a fruit puree dried into thin strips which look (and feel) like leather. In Iranian villages, it is a widely used way to preserve fruit for the winter - it is a nutritious snack and a fantastically flavourful, slightly sour addition to soups and stews.  In the pictures below we were processing about 20kg of fruit from our orchard.

Here's how to make it (as taught to me by  Mahboobeh, our Kurdish neighbour).

 1. Pick a lot of fruit. A good mix is about 50% plums of any colour (for sweetness), 40% apple (for bulk), and 10% sour cherry or albaloo (for colour and sour-ness).

Picking albaloo

Picking different kinds of plums

2. Wash the fruit and let it dry. You don't want any excess water.

3. Boil it all up together in the biggest pan you can find. As soon as it's soft, take it off the heat.

Sieving a batch into a bucket.

4. Now sieve it all to remove pips and stones and make it as smooth as possible. Keep scraping handfuls of the fruit around the sieve to get as much of the pulp out as possible. You might get tired of sieving it and end up chucking out some of the pulp with the stones (as I did). You should end up with a handful of stones and skins - throw these away.




5. Boil it all up again, this time for longer - the aim is to boil off as much water as possible without the thick fruit concentrate sticking and burning to the bottom of the pan. Do not add sugar - if you've chosen your fruit well, you don't need any other ingredients.

Laying down the non-stick baking paper

6. Now prepare an area to spread the liquid fruit onto. This is usually plastic sheeting in Iran, but I prefer to put some non-stick baking paper down on top of the plastic. The plastic can give a bad taste and is harder to peel off the 'leather'.

7. Pour your fruit puree onto the prepared sheets.

8. Spread it out evenly so that it is not more than about 3mm thick (like tomato paste on a pizza base).



9. Leave it in full sun for about 2-3 days (in Iran). In the UK you might need to put it on trays in an Aga or airing cupboard, unless you have guaranteed 7-10 days of sunshine. Protect from dust, flies, pets, birds, and accidental watering with mosquito netting or similar.





10. When it's ready (it peels away in one piece and doesn't break unless  you tug hard), cut up the lavashak into strips or convenient pieces for storing in a tin or plastic box. It doesn't need to be in the fridge.  We made about 5kg on this occasion which is a lot, believe me.

Rolls of lavashak on display in Tajrish market, surrounded by sour cherries (darker) and fresh barberries (zereshk).