I am lucky enough to be in Europe for the whole month of December, joyfully mixing two weeks of work, with two weeks of time with family and friends.
The weather is cold. So cold, in fact, that it has delivered several dumps of snow and layered a delightful crust of frost over the fields on the way to the airport. To Paris!
Usually, when heading back to the UK, a healthy two-week window is necessary to really get over the jet lag and calm down properly. I didn’t quite have that luxury this time, however, and was restricted to one week of British Summer Time, Tour de France and Wimbledon.
Super tent in the garden, filled the space to a tee!
Jess looks cheeky, as ever.
Just super to meet all the family members that I miss out on, while away! … and play with a silly Holga lens mod present that I had bought for Abe.
However, what it lacked in duration, it more than made up for in intensity. No sooner had I landed, a pig had been slaughtered and spit-roasted in the name of my Dad’s 60th birthday, family members had descended from around the UK and I had sunk a few ‘test pints’ from the professional-quality draft beer tap(s) installed for the event. And thankfully for my Dad, Andy Murray was not in the Wimbledon final, or the party would have surely been significantly less well-attended. A blur of catchings up and barely a moment of sitting down, and the first weekend was dispatched.
A nice cup of tea to round off a good ol’ tea party.
After meeting up with Phil, Rich and a couple of other friends in London, I take the fast train up to Birmingham to meet with Mum and Dad for a couple of days of hiking. I had not spent much time in the north of Wales before, so it was great to sleep in the shadow of Snowdon; tallest mountain in England and Wales (I love how England feels it can claim other countries’ mountains as its own… Month Blanc, the tallest mountain in England and France).
Sheep sheep sheep. Wales.
I had always thought of Snowdon as a particularly boring hill, such as it is plumbed-in with a train to the summit and images of Victorian ladies getting taking their afternoon constitutional. It was with such a false sense of postcard security that we attempted ‘Crib Goch‘ – the most challenging of the approaches to the summit, and reading here, ‘a Class-1 scramble in good weather, it should be considered a climb in poor conditions’.
Happily ignoring this, we attempted it anyway, and fell in behind a group of experienced climbers with ropes. Right then. Ideal conditions for Team Biddle to begin our ascent!
The climbing was not extremely technical, but as we gained altitude, our confidence in the available hand grabs and invisible foot-holds faded somewhat. Trusting yourself to lift yourself up and around tall pillars of rock, when there is a several hundred metre drop on one side was not for the faint-hearted. No matter how firm the holds seemed, we were glad to be shadowing an experienced set of climbers, and shook our head worryingly as we inspected the ridge heading off into the distance.
Starting off slowly.
Almost time for a breather
Planning ahead
Views from half-way along were formidable.
I barely dared take out my big new camera, relying instead on snapping away with my little Ixus!
Incredulous smiles!
Kinky boots
Clouds in the distance
And clouds. Having cleared the first section, and after wedging ourselves into the rocks at a minor summit to gorge and sandwiches and chocolate, the clouds descended and we lost contact with the leading group. An eerily expansive acoustic edge accompanied the final set of pinnacles, and we guessed that through the mist and clouds were drops ever increasing in height. It was with no shortage of glee, then, to happen upon the railway tracks up to the cafe at the top, and the best-tasting cuppa tea in England and Wales.
The North Face.
A long way down
Vultures circling
Looking back, as the clouds roll in
This was definitely a good idea. I am sure.
Edgy
Dropping in for a final night of food and drink in Birmingham with Jess, I took the slow train back to Cambridge, packed up, and readied myself for one more long flight back to Asia. Fair England, how I do miss thee.
… enjoy this video of some far braver souls, as they traverse the knife edge. Imagine, while watching it, me straddling the apex, legs both pointing straight down to different valleys. Not quite the dare devil!
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ELdijJpGcyc]
Hiking in the bleeding cold weather on the north coast of East Anglia.
I am presently sitting in a heavy haze of jet lag with the rain coming down outside in the way that only Taiwan can muster. Got back after rather a long night flight from London yesterday and have been battling e-mail demons all day (mostly slain, I might add). Felt I needed to find a little time to write up the marvelous weekend I had in Wells Next-The-Sea (what a quaint name) with the folks and newly wed sis and bruv-in-law.
I’ll battle through the bleary vision and sausage fingers and say – great Christmas, and just what I needed to recharge the old batteries. 2009 ho!
Cold air but beautiful skies.
Norfolk is quite flat. A somewhat refreshing change from the mountains and hustle & bustle of Taiwan. For a wee while.
My delightful sister.
My old man.
Will he make it?!
Little rascals.
The sun sets on 2008, and I am looking forward to what 2009 will bring – truly.
A belated new year to you, beloved reader.
I don’t know about you, but Phil and I managed to find ourselves at an exceptionally gay, techno-cabaret night at London’s Cargo club. It was a riot, but 6′ 6″ hairy, mulletted men in leotards dancing cabaret for the bells was a little more ‘alternative’ than I had expected as a start for 2009. Down the pub next year, then.
‘Voulez vous couchez avec moi, ce soir?’ ‘No thank you, kind sir.’
Dad and I braved the incredible (almost) sub-zero temperatures to attempt to ride along the new-fangled Guided Busway route from St. Ives to Cambridge, using the old railway lines. Running was smooth for much of the way, but we hot trouble where the construction ran out, and the mud arrived in typical self-adhesive fashion, entirely locking our wheels up, and leaving Dad dragging his bike the rest of the way (to the pub, at least).
All very amusing – this time next year we should be able to whistle up there in no time.
Trooper.
Suspension not working optimally, perhaps.
This never happens in Taiwan
Just in time – cheers!
We had a marvelous day trip down to Londonon the train with Granny yesterday to take her to the National Portrait Gallery and the Annie Leibowitz exhibition. We had a cracking lunch at Carluccio’s in the newly renovated St. Pancras station, amid arrivals and derpartures from Paris and probably the finest Victorian-era Industrial Revolution Architecture in the world.
Granny striking a pose next to one of the delightful statues dotted around the platforms.
The exhibition included some pretty striking images from the last 30 years that stand proud in the public consciousness. I didn’t know an enormous amount about her, but I certainly know a little more now.
After the museum, we wandered up to Covent Garden, and while there were many people shopping like crazy and stores doing reasonable business, it was also mildly depressing to see so many 50% sales and shops obviously feeling the heat. People are really watching their pennies this year, it seems. Still – Merry Christmas one and all!
My sister is now called Eleanor Hargreaves – fancy that!
Months of preparation, planning and preening – not mine, I might add – culminated in a quite, quite wonderful occasion, that would set a new standard if people started measuring these things (although based on the number of Excel spreadsheets circulated and revised to plan the event, some pretty detailed data visualisation could probably be generated).
I was willingly roped in to MC the event, which was spread between the University Arms Hotel (with appropriate pop festival sound track) and Emmanuel College (backing vocals provided by the porter telling me and everyone else to stay off the grass). Family members came from far and wide, and it was truly strange to have both sides of the family together in one place – well, I suppose since Mum and Dad got hitched. It was a shame of course that I couldn’t spend more time with everyone, but I was chasing a stop watch attached to a large suspended axe if I dared get the timing wrong.
The epic planning managed to balance formal with personal, poignant with anarchic. It was a pleasure to have any involvement at all – so good luck guys! (I am sure you planned for that too)
My suggestion to leave the hair like this fell on deaf ears.
Dahling!
Ele prepares to leave the house for the last time as a Biddle!
Dad – your waistcoat is where, exactly?
Flars and megapixels
Mum’s ‘fascinator’ (my new word of the day)
The locals stop traffic for the beast (and my sister in the passenger seat)
The marriage procession
Signed up for love!
Beards ruled the day
Granny and mum watch with delight
A brave new world
Sniper in position …
… ready to take the shot!
Ele has her cake and eats it
Dad surveys the scene at Emmanuel
Not your average cookie-cutter wedding!
Second new word of the day is ‘gavel’ – and as MC I took great pleasure in knocking the hell out of it to get peoples’ attention as the speeches progressed.
Save me a piece!
I am positive that there will be more photos to come as various family members collect and collate the shots – but these are my personal ones of the day. Have a great time in Croatia, Ele and Dave Hargreaves!
In the rush for the wedding, I was quite concerned that I would not be able to find time to really hang out with Ele before she dropped her Biddle nomenclature, but her calm planning meant that we were able to dine together on the Thursday before the steamroller of ‘Super Saturday’ swept all before it.
We dropped into the Gardinia right on the side of the River Cam, which had pretty okay food, but certainly the best riverside views in Cambridge, down as were at ‘punt-level’ with the guys driftin by, munching on their curries (an act of genius on the part of the local Indian take-aways).
A very nice night indeed!
Ele looks cheeky
Lads hard at work.
And in other news, I managed to pop down to London to see Phil and drop in on a few museums. I was pleased to catch the ‘China Design Now’ exhibition at the V&A;, which was certainly the best event focusing on Sino-creativity I have been to thus far, I got my regular visit in at the Tate Modern, and I caught Sam Hecht’s show at the Design Museum, along with a pretty thorough Richard Rogers retrospective. All cultured up, I felt pretty pleased with myself.
Christpher Wren’s St. Paul’s Cathederal, in all its renovated glory.
I am almost certain I take the same photo every time I walk over this bridge “The Blade of Light”.
The exterior of the Tate, decorated with pretty arresting street art for an exhibition inside.
The interior resplendent in the light (with the populous shivering outside – it was bloody freezing!)
I do appreciate these little acts.