SHERINGHAM DIARY 13 ~ A Cheap Holiday In Other People's Fog.

It's a good job we don't mind a holiday where the weather turns out a bit adverse. We aren't sun seekers and don't throw a complete wobbly when it drizzles. For all bar a couple of days the majority of our week in Whitby and North Yorkshire was shrouded in fog, admittedly in varying degrees of density. Whether we travelled over hill, dale, moorland or skimmed the edge of the coast, our view ahead, behind, on either side was..... limited. So the dramatic landscape glories of the North Yorkshire Moors were never fully unveiled to us, being effectively concealed behind a curtain of atomised sea moisture. There were, however, other unexpected delights. The fog itself often created a unique and mysterious experience.

We'd kept holding out for a nice dry bright day before climbing the steep steps to the moist and muddy headland of Whitby Abbey. Such a day never did arrive, so by Friday we voluntarily gave money to English Heritage without knowing how much of this world heritage site we'd actually be able to see. Approaching from the headland car park, we could barely see a thing, other than the vaguest of vague suggestions of a fleeting shadow. As we drew closer, the ruins, partially submerged in mist, emerged, along with an atmosphere that was the very quintessence of gothic mystique. I have to admit at this point I became quite a lot more excited than perhaps Jnanasalin was. I madly snapped away whilst Abbess Hilda moaned in my ear about the trials and tribulations of running a unisex monastery on top of a cliff. Abbess Hilda was it would seem quite a far sighted venture capitalist on the quiet, as there's a sign on the way into town directing you to the Abbess Hilda Business Centre.

Whitby as a resort is surviving pretty well, probably due to its bi-yearly Goth festival weekends that draws thousands of bizzarely dressed individuals trying to banish their introversion  but who also purchase chips, lager and Whitby Jet. There are empty shops but also new replacements, like a deli and trendy eateries. We drove through quite a few seaside resorts and Scarborough and Bridlington's shopping centres are way bigger than they can sustain, resembling a tramps mouth with several teeth missing. Fortunately these dreary encounters were usually lifted by something culinary or stately. Our visit to Bridlington being improved by a cafe called The Northman and a visit to a magnificent Elizabethan House called Burton Agnes Hall a few miles out of town, that had fabulously intricate plasterwork and wood carving.

On one particularly foggy day we drove over the moors to Malton. Like many market towns you enter into Malton through what looks like an arse end of run down dirty frontages, tatty takeaways, lurid nail salons, the ubiquitous Heron Food Supermarket and countless long abandoned retail projects. On first impressions we thought we'd made a very very bad mistake in coming there. But once we found The Malton Patisserie, ate overpriced cake in frilly paper wrappers, and gazed out the window at the Farrow & Ball sign in the shop opposite, we visibly relaxed, finally we were amongst 'our people.' Malton proudly self-declares itself as Yorkshire's Culinary Capital, and it is the sort of the place where there is an 'artisan' round every corner, and some of them do actually make the things they sell. Its also a great place for truly gorgeous home ware and furnishings, we'd fallen upon a middle class heaven.

Malton is close to Castle Howard a lavishly decorated house designed by Vanbrugh and Hawksmoor, which manages to be very grand whilst actually being quite small. I've always been a bit partial to a bit of extravagantly over the top 17th century interior decorating, so needless to say, I loved it.

They had an exhibition of a sculpture by Mat Collishaw called Centrifugal Soul of a 3D Zoetrope, which was quite mesmerising and beautiful. The video does its best to capture what is really a lived experience

There were culinary highlights too, with a number of revisits. To Whitby's finest cafes Sherlocks and Marie Antionette's with their magnificent range of cakes. We also discovered a new eatery Sanders Yard where they do fabulous platters and a great range of breakfasts. Six years ago when we were last in Whitby, we walked to Sandsend and had a cauliflower soup in a bistro that was literally jaw droppingly good. So a return to the Bridge Cottage Bistro was a must. This time we ate a twice baked souffle with delicately roasted carrots, petite turnips, stem broccoli and asparagus in a light cheeesy sauce. It was a meal beautifully balanced with even the slice of sourdough, butter and sea salt that preceded it playing a part. We enjoyed it so much we went back for brunch on our last morning and had Buck Rarebit ( Welsh Rarebit with an egg on top ) which though simple fare was immensely tasty,satisfying and filling nonetheless. If you're ever near Sandsend ring ahead to book a table.

Hubby on Saltburn Pier

The waitress in Bridge Cottage Bistro obviously judged us correctly when she recommended we visit Saltburn By The Sea. So feeling spontaneous we drove straight up the coast to Saltburn, a resort built by a Victorian Quaker, with a pier, funicular railway, plus a small town which these days has reinvented itself as foodie heaven with some pretty smart home ware stores filling out the rest. We have found a new favourite place to visit, and this was when it was deeply dipped in the midst of mist.

However, all holidays include the long journey home. To ease the 250 mile drive back we made a number of stop overs. One was to see my Dad in Scunthorpe. He seemed OK and in a more talkative mood than usual. He's lost quite a bit of weight, but I think the Care Home ensures he eats better and no longer exists largely on a diet of cake. The other stop was in Lincoln, which these days has developed its old centre around the Castle and Cathedral into a smart mix of medieval picturesque and contemporary, it was quite a delight to spend a few hours wandering around before continuing on our journey back to the cosy familiarity of the rolling landscape of Norfolk

SHERINGHAM DIARY No 12 ~ Year One Over & Out

As this is my twelfth Sheringham Diary blogpost it marks the end of Year One, the first anniversary of our moving to Upper Sheringham  being on April 1st. From now on the seasonal and events cycle of North Norfolk life will be a relatively known quantity, with only minor variations.


Looking back most things progressed well, we set up and settled into our new home with relative ease. After many years of living in Buddhist Communities this homemaking aspect has been, and remains still, a feeling of being liberated from a constraint we'd both grown quite tired of. Plus creating a home is actually a lot of fun. In Year Two there will be much less to actually do, once we finish off our plans for the garden, then refloor the lounge, then that's pretty much it. Finding work was pretty straightforward for both of us. What hasn't been easy is, for me ~ handling the physical demands and consequences of intensive cleaning, and for Jnanasalin ~ the strain of improving the functioning of a mildly dysfunctional charity shop chain. How this work would drain us of energy and initiative for the Cottonwood Cafe project, was something we'd not really foreseen. This is something we are challenged to change over the next year.

One of the residents in a care home I clean for is one of my secret delights in a job not otherwise known for being particularly fun filled. She's in her early sixties, but dresses and behaves like an big overgrown teenager. Talking very very loudly in a completely unfiltered way about anything and anyone. She's extremely observant, and knows, for instance, how often residents have been to the loo that day. So you have to be very careful what you tell her as it would soon be broadcast full blast to everyone. She actually has a sweet nature and seems innately kind, even if some of her thinking is a tad eccentric. At times it can feel like a character from Royston Vasey has stepped off the screen and into real life. Her conversations are, however, a joy to listen in on, such as the following one I couldn't help overhearing, she was 'talking at' the care home's manager about another resident and her 'big pill'. Imagine this in a loud high pitched Norfolk accent.

"She says`she aint gonna take tha big pill,
  But she gottu aint she, tha big pill,
  she gottu take it, aint she ?
  You'll av tu meker take it on Sundi, wont ya?
  she says she don lyke tekin it
  cos it gives her a sexual feeling when she poos."

For any of you who are on Netflix I recommend a six part documentary series Wild Wild Country. Its about the Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh (Osho) cult and their efforts to build a 'Buddhaland' in the outback of Oregon. The Rajneeeshis didn't expect the opposition they'd encounter from the local yokels in the small town of Antelope and eventually the entire Wasco County establishment. No one comes out of this battle of religious allegiances and wits with entirely clean hands.



The outstanding figure, whose dubious tactics the documentary focuses on a lot of the time, is the Bhagwan's PA ~ Ma Anand Sheela, who is not a woman to ever try corner or obstruct. There is nonetheless something about her fierce intelligence and indomitable way of not being cowed by brute male force, meeting any opposition head on, that I actually found deeply impressive and strangely admirable. The authorising of mass food poisoning and attempted assassinations, perhaps not so much. As an abuse of power over its followers, and those that opposed it, this puts Triratna's recent scandals into the category, relatively speaking, of small beer. Though it highlights the conditions for abuse to arise in that we did hold in common. A new religious group, encountering a wave of youthful naive idealism for it, that becomes quite self intoxicating, self deluding, followers being encouraged to live as if they exist outside the ordinary rules of law, thus is a fertile ground for abuse of trust laid out.

In Oregon what started as simply directing that enthusiasm into positive actions, does in the hands of extremely self confident charismatic individuals, slip into gross manipulation and abuse of less confident individuals. People surrendered the direction of their lives, and to some extent their autonomy, up to the Bhagwan or Sheela, and were pressured into take actions they'd not normally consider acceptable. Often these actions being presented as spiritually enabling people to be freed of self-limitations. The documentary is deeply unsettling at times to watch, but was nonetheless compelling.

Well, Easter is with us, as are this seasons first wave of tourists, quite often obese, encumbered with children, zimmer frames,walking sticks, umbrellas, perambulators and dogs. The good weather they've come for has, however, temporarily deserted us and we have returned to cold, rain and wind. Our back garden plans are nonetheless progressing, and the weekend before Easter we transformed the coal bunker alcove on our patio. That has turned out pretty much how we wanted. All we have to do now is wait for the weather to warm up, to see how well things flourish in an area that admittedly gets very little direct sunlight. I've been trying out some decking cleaner on the patio's flaking paintwork that is very effective at gently softening the paint layer. So hopefully this will cut down the amount of sanding needed before I repaint it.  Everything is waiting on the arrival of those warmer dry days, which, as yet, we've not seen much of.

I've had two longer Shiatsu sessions during the last month, and I have to say I'm pretty impressed by the results. Though I've had ordinary massages before, they never had quite the same transformative effect on my psycho-physical being as Shiatsu. There is always a few days of adjustment after a Shaitsu session when energy and pain intensifies then moves around and dissipates itself through that movement. Its been interesting adjusting to things appearing to get much worse before improvements starts to show. I've experienced after a session my body trying to reassert tensions, as if somethings was not quite right with this more relaxed bodily experience. I've had to make more conscious effort to relax areas of tension, and habitual ways I hold my body. Shiatsu has also eased the discomfort from osteo-arthritis in my hands and stiff painful shoulders. Though with the sciatica it has been more limited, which appears to respond better to regular stretching and core strength building exercises

I'm still in the early stages of introducing Macrobiotics into my regular diet. It is a whole different way of cooking. Initially it does seem more time consuming, and certainly requires more advance planning than I'm used to. This is proving a bit of a challenge as deciding what I'll want to eat beyond the most immediate upcoming meal I do find hard to imagine. I've got a few basic recipes learnt, but it will be a while yet before I have a wider range to draw on. I notice when I am eating more wholly macrobiotic I do seem to have stabler energy levels. Once I introduce foods that are more highly processed, or are sugary or fatty, the energy levels begin to distinctly wobble more, and the bowels? well, they do take a turn towards the flatulent!  Which is an excess of Yin I think,with all that watery blowing off !

Next week we set off on a holiday to Whitby, and boy are we ready for it. 

MY MOST LOVED ALBUMS ~ Brian Eno - Taking Tiger Mountain By Strategy

As my most purchased album, this is a prime candidate for my most loved album. I bought it on vinyl when it originally came out in 1974, then on cassette, CD and now as a download.  This is the album where Eno's use of Obscure Strategy Cards to direct or wrong foot his creative process starts to be experimented with. I remember being fascinated with trying to discern how the layering of sounds interacted, discovering somewhere in the back a little sqeak of a noise that was perhaps once the starting point for an idea that got abandoned. On vinyl the album ends with the grooves being caught in an endless loop, something you could only really do in that format. This album set the template for me of the sort of music I love to love - adventurous, arty, discordant, odd, exciting music, that's still strangely accessible.

He was interviewed on the radio at the time and he talked about noticing the similarities between reggae and waltz rhythms and what emerged from that was the track Back In Judy's Jungle. https://youtu.be/r3mrcxek67A

There's the proto-punk of  the Third Uncle which proceeds at a absolutely furious pace and descends by the end into outright cacophany with what sounds like a guitar, highly amped being played with a bow or a chair leg, take your pick. It remains for me a track that shows what the musical potential for punk was before it had even happened, something that punk, once it did arrive, never really fully explored.
https://youtu.be/2zSrkb5pkrQ

Put A Straw Under Baby is composed like a surreal lullaby that half way through has the Portsmouth Symphonia bursting in as if trying to wake the baby up.
https://youtu.be/xVajcgZk2Tc

The True Wheel starts off in a sort of ploddy rock mode that gradually turns the dial up as it becomes more avante garde, with a middle section where a recording of a string section is played backwards ontop of the original recording.
https://youtu.be/FByM0r-VOLc

After the eccentric rock /pop of his first album Her Come The Warm Jets, Taking Tiger Mountain By Strategy resolutely places itself as an experimental album, with nonesense lyrics and often bizarre musical conjunctions. For me its a wonderfully daft, delightfilled album, simultaneously both serious and playful. It was Eno revelling in the potential of where ideas let free from his absolute total control would lead him.

After this album came Another Green World and his interest being drawn by the electronic landscaping of Cluster / Harmonia. What ultimately flows from that are his Ambient albums. We very rarely hear him sing nowadays, and the inventiveness and dry wit to be enjoyed in the Dadaesque lyrics of Taking Tiger Mountain, is hardly ever seen again. However much of a humourless brainbox he can sometimes appear to be, this is Brian Eno at his most oddball and human.