A lesson in technology

Gluhwein overlooking the ice rink

I have 'seen' my mother 4 times today - once in person when I paid her a visit, and 3 times when she 'FaceTimed' me. She is really impressed with her new iPod Touch, but she wasn't actually using much of it. She got it for listening to music on, but I have a feeling they will be getting another iPod for music and will keep this for their new toy. She now has AccuWeather, and is fascinated by the hour by hour account of the weather close to where we are, or may be going. By putting me in as a contact, and tapping my address, the screen suddenly changed to a vision of the outside of my house. FaceTime was something else though. I've only just got it myself, so we were both learning, and it really is amazing. They were fascinated while I was at their house, but couldn't get over seeing me later, in my house, and being able to check out my new curtains etc! I could even show her how to do things on her laptop, by pointing the camera at mine. I haven't introduced her to Twitter yet but that day must come! As well as having a technological week, I've been busy doing other things too. I've been tending my sloe gin, although I'm not that keen on the current colour which is a bit like Ribena. Last night I went to the Christmas Markets in Manchester before going to an 'adult' Panto - Panto's on Strike with Paddy McGuinness and Coleen Nolan. It was very funny, and very adult. It seemed strange having the baddy (Gail Tyldesleys husband who tried to kill her) telling the audience to go forth and multiply, and even the "Oh yes you are"s were full of bad language.

This year there are 8 Christmas Markets in Manchester, and when I went through the main one at gone 8pm last night it was heaving. This year we have:
European Christmas Market at Albert Square, 10am - 9pm
World Christmas Market on Brazennose Street, 10am - 8pm
German Christmas Market at St Ann's Square, 10am - 8pm
Christmas Arts and Craft Market on Exchange Street, 10am - 8pm
Christmas Market on New Cathedral Street, 10am - 8pm
Christmas Market on Exchange Square, 10am - 8pm
French Christmas Market on King Street, 10am - 7pm
Weekend Craft and Gift Market at The Triangle, 10am - 7.30pm
They are all open until the 21st December, and as well as all the individual stalls there are plenty of places to stop for a drink of mulled wine, European beer or hot chocolate. The food is a bit pricey at £4 for a Bratwurst or £7 for a Raclette, but it is all very nice and can definitely compete with the big European markets. An ice rink has been built in Spinningfields for over the Christmas period and a temporary bar (The Lodge) has been constructed in a 2 storey tent, complete with balcony to watch the skaters from.

Spinningfields ice rink

I struggle with technology, and I can understand how people a generation up from me must find it really difficult! The changes just since I was born (not that long ago ha ha) are amazing. If someone who died just 30 years ago came back to life, imagine the things you would need to explain to them for them to cope with everyday life.

Before we get onto the Internet, just telephones are so different. No longer can we have a 'party line' shared between neighbours to cut the cost where only one household could make a call at once and the rest could listen in. No longer do we carry around an emergency 2p to use in a public telephone box. Calls could only be made after 6pm, and then had to be short as calls were so expensive. Even when I got my first mobile phone, it was for emergencies only, and I bet I used it about once every 2 months. Texts seemed really complicated, and as you paid per character sent, not per text, no wonder 'text language' quickly evolved. We had a video recorder 30 years ago (a Betamax!), but now not only have DVDs taken over, we have digi boxes and PVRs so you can pause television, and record 2 channels while watching another. Try explaining that to someone who the last time they were on earth had just 3 channels (Channel 4 didn't launch until 1982), and the National Anthem would play when the channels stopped at around midnight.

My mum would spend a day a week doing the laundry in a twin tub washing machine - we got an automatic washing machine in around 1982. Frozen food would have to be stored in the little ice compartment in the top of the fridge because it wasn't common to have a freezer. When my then boyfriend's family got a microwave in about 1983 it was a huge novelty, and I loved going to make baked potatoes, and scrambled eggs. Now many homes could cope very well with a big freezer and a microwave, because not as much fresh food is bought, or proper cooking done.

To get money, you queued up at the bank and drew it out. If you were lucky your branch would be open on a Saturday morning for a couple of hours. Someone returning after 30 years would have to be shown cashpoints, where you can get your money at any time on any day. You could then take it to one of the massive supermarkets and buy anything you wished, all under one roof. Another thing that doesn't make sense is some of the price changes. OK, so most things have gone up, but now you can buy £4 jeans, or a whole school uniform for a tenner. My school uniform, even more than 30 years ago, was a huge deal as it was over £100.

All these changes may be amazing, but then there is the Internet, and social networking. I did joke with my mum earlier (it was a joke, honest, mum!) that I'd never have to visit her again now she had FaceTime and Facebook. We no longer have to write a letter, buy a stamp, post it and await a reply. We just send a quick email and can have a reply the same day. We know what our friends are up to via the social networking sites, and we can always access up to date news stories, rather than watching television at 6pm or 9pm (yes, it was the BBC 9 o'clock news in those days). We can send a quick text message to anywhere in the world and get an instant response, and if it is done via a wifi app it is totally free too. Where family in Australia would receive an annual Christmas Day phone call, now you can chat freely, either using an actual voice or by typing messages, and you can see them at the same time.

I've put my dad on Twitter, where he can complain about Condoms to his heart's content (his predictive text doesn't recognise ConDems) so it is only right that I see if my mum can cope. However, I think she won't have time - and I may not have time for much else either if FaceTime doesn't lose its novelty soon!

Sloe gin day 19

Oldest Swingers in Town.

Sloe Gin, day 12

I attended my first Local Area Partnership meeting this week. There were so many old people that attended I need to drum up some support for the next one - anyone under 65 bring the average age down by a lot. I'll be going again to try to re-educate this older generation. It was really interesting, and we had a presentation by the area manager of the Bolton and Bury Census that is being run by the Office of National Statistics next March. In my younger days census night was treated as a bit of a laugh, where a massive  party would be held resulting in scores of names being put on the form of one address, with lots of other apparently empty properties all around. It seems it was evolved since then though, and you can be on your census form even if you don't spend the actual night in question at your address.

Friday night was Fondue Night. A few years ago a work colleague gave me a brand new Le Creuset fondue set. She had received it as a wedding present (and she had celebrated her silver wedding), and indeed it still had wedding paper on it. Her husband decided that as it had never been out of the box it had to go, and the theory was that I'd like it because I like Switzerland???? I brought it home and put it in a cupboard, where it stayed, still unopened, until I had a clear out while decorating the other week. Ms. Aspery kindly took it off my hands and decided it should have an airing. 6 of us were there for the unveiling, although it almost didn't happen when we realised no-one had any matches to light the burner with. We did everything by the Swiss rules; we had black tea with it, had 12 year old schnapps when the fondue has half way down (and several more after), and then put an egg in the pot at the end to finish it off. We listened to Guggemusik while we ate. We were even treated to Black Forest Gateau to round off the 70s night.

Things deteriorated quite quickly. In fact, the emergency wine had been opened even before the first schnapps had been drunk, and the emergency bottle of schnapps was empty before the night was out. I found my way home well after 2am, and the party carried on well after that. The neighbours had to have an apology the next day, and after listening to a recording of the singing, I'm surprised the police weren't called. I'd called for a friend on the way and his mum had warned us we'd better not be rolling in drunk at 2am (especially as we had another night out planned for the day after). Oops.

Marc Almond at The Lowry

I spent Saturday recovering, and then I went to the Lowry Theatre to see Marc Almond. Even this was in jeopardy as I'd tried to swap my ticket for an A-Ha one the night before. Although a loose arrangement to meet the A-Ha and Rocky Horror lot (Manchester was the place to be last night) on Canal Street after, I drove as I couldn't face it. I've never seen Marc Almond before, even though a friend has asked me to go with her a few times. This time, for his 30th Anniversary Tour, I decided I should. I drove down with the friend I'd seen the night before, and we were both glad we'd be sat down and hoped it wouldn't be too loud. It was fantastic. I could have spent all night people watching. I was one one the youngest people there, and there were some proper old swingers. It messed with my mind a bit seeing quite old people dancing away at the front (a mosh pit?). Marc had laryngitis and I'll be amazed if he doesn't have to cancel some of his next dates.  He's 53, which explains some of the older audience. Some people looked like they were in the wrong theatre though! The venue was great, and I was pleased that he played the old ones that I knew - Say Hello Wave Goodbye is my favourite, that I had on vinyl.

Many years ago going to a gig was a normal night out. It was really cheap, with tickets normally being about £3-4. If it was someone really big you may have to fork out a fiver, but that was the exception. There were lots of music venues in Manchester. As well as the Hacienda and the Ritz (and downstairs at what was Jilly's Music Box - was it called Fagins?) we had the International and International 2. Now tickets are so expensive, and you often have to go to the massive venues, rather than the large pubs we'd go to.

The International was on Anson Road/Dickenson Road and it was owned by Gareth Evans, the manager of the Stone Roses. The Stone Roses used it as their base. The hall was above a load of shops, and I went loads of times to see groups such as 10,000 Maniacs, The Pogues, Half Man Half Biscuit, The Soup Dragons and loads more. The likes of Bon Jovi, James and Sinead O'Connor also played there. On one occasion we were back stage and whoever we had seen got our autographs as they had heard of our group of the time (I can't remember who that was - Half Man Half Biscuit?). The International 2 opened up in an old Irish dance hall on Plymouth Grove, that was called Sloshkys or something like that. This was a bigger venue and again very cheap. We were watching the Pogues there once and the barriers at the front gave way. The local branch of the Hell's Angels were called to prop up the front row. At another Pogue's gig there we bumped into Elvis Costello outside as he was collecting his girlfriend who was in the Pogues. Billy Bragg also played a few times at the International 2. The International is now a Turkish supermarket and The International 2 was demolished and apartments have been built on the site.

Me at Platt Fields approx 1985 (before good cameras were invented).

I saw The Clash at Blackburn King Georges Hall, and The Smiths at The Free Trade Hall (now the Radisson Edwardian Hotel). Terry and Gerry, Hank Wangford, The June Brides and The Boothill Foot-tappers were all seen at various pubs and clubs. One of the best ones we went to has to be the Jobs For A Change festival in July 1985 in Battersea Park. This was also an End of GLC Concert, as the bill to abolish Greater London Council had been passed. It is said that Margaret Thatcher's incentive to abolish GLC was to get rid of the enormous poster on County Hall that told parliament of how many unemployed people there were in London. Red Ken Livingstone kept popping up on the stages to give out his message. This was a free concert with Billy Bragg, The Pogues, The Communards and Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark headlining. As it was on until late though had my one and only experience of sleeping rough. It was a glorious summer's day, and I was amazed at how cold it got in the middle of the night trying to get comfy on a park bench. We gave up in the end, only to find the park had been locked up. We had to scale the fence, with the very creepy Battersea Power Station glowing away for light, then walk around until the circle line opened when we could have a snooze on the underground while going round and round in warmth and comfort.

In those days there were lots of free gigs tied in with various marches being held, usually because of the lack of jobs, or campaigns against nuclear bombs. We went to a march through the centre of Manchester once that ended up with a free concert on Platt Fields. Billy Bragg was there and I think the Pogues too. A good march was a great way to pass a weekend, but I never saw any of the trouble that we see on the news now (I suppose the peaceful demonstrations don't make as much news...).

I was lucky enough to go to the ultimate free concert, Party at the Palace at Buckingham Palace in June 2002, for the Queen's Golden Jubilee. Although I was 6 months pregnant I was stood on my chair with everyone else to see Brian May play guitar on the roof of Buck Palace. Over 2 million people entered the free ticket raffle and 12,000 were chosen to attend. We were treated to Paul McCartney, Eric Clapton, Cliff Richard, Annie Lennox, Rod Stewart, Tom Jones, Ricky Martin, Brian Adams, Atomic Kitten, Will Young, Phil Collins, Ozzie Osbourne......It really was a fabulously indulgent day, with our picnic hampers with Waitrose goodies, bottles of champagne, and beer vouchers for in the beer tents! While I loved it, if anything even remotely similar happens for the Diamond Jubilee, or this wedding we won't stop hearing about, I'll be making representations!

Winter warmers

This week I have been sorting out my belongings that got packed away before my new floor was put down. I have then got my fab new curtains up and new bits and pieces in, and I'm really quite liking my living space. I also put up the 3 pictures I bought about 2 years ago, that have been stored still wrapped up in my downstairs toilet since I got home. They are by Eric Kean, a contemporary artist who died in May 2008 (only 6 months before I bought the paintings) whilst queuing to go through to departures at Liverpool John Lennon Airport. I bought Land, Sunset and Horizon, and they are looking really smart.



H pricking the sloes



Also this week I collected sloes to make a batch of sloe gin with. The best time to pick the sloes is after the first frost. It is tempting to collect them earlier, so the gin is ready for Christmas, but if you can hold out until the frost apparently it is a good thing. We have some brilliant sloe trees just at the back of our house, and right in the middle of them, quite high up, were masses of big plump sloes. On Monday lunchtime I had a walk out and was looking fetching, in hiking boots, a parka, and a woolly hat. I eased my way into the tree and managed to pick loads of sloes before extracting myself, with bits of bush sticking out of my hair and mud all over my jeans and boots. I had a quick walk to feed the ducks when disaster struck. In my dishevelled state I walked straight into the young man I carry a bit (OK a lot) of a torch for. I'm hoping he will come to taste some of the finished product. Paul just thinks I'm really sad getting in a state over a young man at my (tender) age.

Day 3 of sloe gin

We had a family bonding session preparing the sloes. We even had H pricking their skins. Then we had to poke them through the necks of the bottles I had, shove the sugar in, pour in the gin and shake. The bottles are now safely in the cupboard under my stairs where I give them a shake twice a day. I think it will be spring before the gin tastes great, but it is already looking a gorgeous colour.

Saturday was Twiglets (Tottington Wildlife Group) day. 7 or 8 children turned up with about the same number of adults, and we went to our field to make mud masks and twig sculptures. We had to pick up mud and mould it to tree trunks so we ended up caked in the stuff. Everything ended up in the washing machine when we got home. The kids love it - they get to spend an hour and a half outside getting mucky, and learn things as they go. Next month we are having a camp fire which should be great.

Today I went to my first Remembrance Day parade in Bury. I normally go to Ramsbottom in the morning then Tottington in the afternoon, but as H is in the cubs now he was taking part in the big parade. I only have to walk past a brass band and I start crying (I have no idea why, I just get such a lump in my throat) so by the time we got to the memorial at Bury Parish Church I was in a state. There were so many young people involved and they were brilliant. They have a parade, a service outside, a church service, the another parade back to the town hall so they were out for 2 1/2 hours, with them all behaving impeccably all the time.

The most moving Last Post I have ever heard was at the Menin Gate in Ypres in 1999. FB and I had found ourselves in Belgium almost by accident. We'd been camping in France, gone out for a drive, and, oops, we were in another country. We stayed a while as I found the roads easy to drive on. We went to the In Flanders Fields exhibition, but didn't go into the reconstructed trenches as FB was afraid. We also didn't visit the cemetries nearby as the weather had changed to rain (it did a lot of that during the holiday) and I'd put FB in a summer dress with little sandals, as we weren't intending going far. The Menin Gate is the war memorial dedicated to the British and Commonwealth soldiers killed in the Ypres Salient in World War 1 whose graves are unknown. The huge arched structure was unveiled in 1927 by Lord Pulmer, who said "He is not missing. He is here." The names of 54,896 Commonwealth soldiers who died without graves are etched on the structure but although vast, the memorial couldn't fit all the names on it as planned. A cut off point of 15.8.17 was chosen, and the remaining 34,984 names were instead included on the Tyne Cot Memorial to the Missing. On every night since 2.7.28 (apart from during the occupation of Germans in WWII, when the Last Post was heard each night in Surrey instead) at 8pm buglers have sounded the Last Post. In WWII it was resumed at Menin on the night Polish troops liberated Ypres, despite heavy fighting still happening very near by. Seeing the names inscribed on the memorial really makes you think about how lucky you are. Today, when H complained that he had to endure a '20 minute silence' and lots of standing up, we reminded him how preferable that was to a day in the trenches, cold wet and hungry, feeling lucky to be in the trench and not having to go over the top.

Next week I'm having a social life, so I may give you something less boring. I'm also spending quite a lot of my spare time on a project that I can't reveal just yet, but it's coming together really well......

Frightening Feeding Time for Fish

I was going to have 'Anyone for monkfish?' as this blog title, but although I intended to go to Gorton Monastery and take in the Universal Worship Service (for people from all faiths or none), I ended up at Ikea. It perhaps wasn't a bad thing. Too many new experiences in a day can't be that good for you.

Where to start.....I've had the strangest Sunday morning experience I've had for a long long time. It wasn't altogether awful but it did freak me out somewhat. I have to say I didn't want the experience, but was talked into it by Ms. A, who for the past few days has been telling me she needs to discuss fish with me.



We finally got around to the fishy conversation yesterday, and weirdly enough, as soon as it started it dawned on me where it would end. About 3 weeks ago I walked through Bolton town centre and saw people stood in a fish tank (with fish in). At the time it didn't occur to me that it was anything other than a prank - maybe a charity stunt. This week while stopped at traffic lights I noticed a beauty salon advertising fish therapy. That sounds awful, and the thought of having the likes of a fish facial didn't tempt me in. Yesterday though I walked through Bury and overheard an older couple stood in front of another salon. The wife was telling the husband that fish in tanks eat dead skin off your body, and it is a new 'thing'. As soon as Ms. A phoned me later on, it all slotted into place! She was telling me about Appy Feet that has opened up in the Trafford Centre, where you go for a pedicure with a difference. My feet are fine, but she managed to talk me into not only accompanying her, but participating in the experience. We decided to go to the Bolton salon (Yoko in the Market Place, Bolton) as it was more convenient. I was collected and driven to Bolton to find out what it was all about.



The fish tank



A Garra Rufu Fish Therapy Experience is supposed to leave your feet very smooth, give you a feeling of well being, stimulate the growth of new skin cells, and provide relief for skin disorders such as eczema and psoriasis. Basically, the fish eat the dead skin off your feet. We missed a trick really. With the amount of dry skin on Ms. A's feet we could have charged the salon as the fish wouldn't have needed feeding for weeks afterwards.

Having my feet checked out

A good wash of the feet first

There are 2 sections in Yoko, and one of them is screened off so people can be private. It was explained to us that some people may have psoriasis that they don't want others to see, and they are more comfortable (or not as self conscious, as 'comfortable' may not be a good way to describe it) away from curious eyes. We don't mind an audience and so were fine with the idea of rolling up our jeans and sitting with our feet in a fish tank in an open shop front with half the population of Bolton coming for a look. Before the treatment started we had to have our feet inspected. We were asked if we had had any verrucas recently, any athletes foot, or any deep cuts that wouldn't heal. When they were satisfied that we wouldn't poison the fish we could sit next to the fish tanks with our feet in a foot spa. This is just so they know we have had a wash in our own personal water before having a dip in the communal bits. Before long, it was time for the experience to begin.



The hungry fish

The feet have gone into the tank

Work in progress

The bottom of Ms. A's feet

We were advised to slowly put our feet into the tanks, but not look as we did it. The look on Ms. A's face made me want to escape, and the fish started their meal straight away. They were like a school of pirhanas attacking. It took me ages to put my feet in my tank, and then it was so awful I pulled them straight out again. It made me jump because I thought some of the fish might have ended up on the salon floor, and I had visions of me being charged for the fish I'd killed off. They stayed in the water though, but I did get told not to scream again as it frightened the fish (never mind potential customers). I slowly put my feet in again and this time kept them there. It is a really strange feeling, that is very similar to having your feet in a jacuzzi. If you don't think or look, it isn't unpleasant. The fish don't half get stuck in as soon as they see the flesh though, and to me the weirdest bit was when they went in between my toes. They don't just do your feet - some of mine were experimenting further up my legs. We were advised that if we wanted them to concentrate on the bottom of our feet we should just put our soles in. That tickled far too much for me.

A relaxing spa treatment?

As it is a bit of a spectator experience we did drum up some more custom while we were there. The other people having a go all said that it was enjoyable. One man put his hand in his girlfriends fish tank and he wasn't too keen though. We were assured that the fish don't have teeth. It is something to do with enzymes on their saliva breaking down the skin so they can lick it off, but I haven't looked into the biological details yet. Only one person has licked in between my toes before, but he didn't chew any dead skin off while he was at it. When our time was up we could dry off, smother our feet in moisturiser, and go on our way. My feet are really smooth, and Ms. A's are in a much better state than they were. She was very impressed with the outcome. I'm not sure I'd do it again, as I'm really soft  (i.e. a coward) and don't particularly need it, but I would recommend it for anyone with a lot of dry skin or a skin condition.

One thing to note though. Although the fish do seem to smooth your feet, just like a pedicure does, they don't paint your nails at the same time. However, 8 hours later my feet are exceptionally soft. If you are brave enough, go for it!