Teach to the test…

I’ve thought long and hard about writing this piece, because I recognise that it uncovers all sorts of contradictions and tensions, almost even hypocrisies in my feelings. But then, as a Bleeding-Heart Liberal, I suppose I should just get used to them, and I hope, dear readers, that you have too. If you’re still here, then thanks.

I was educated at a state (public) primary school, then won a scholarship to a nearby independent private school from 11-18. My parents entered me for the scholarship/entrance exams because (among other reasons) they and some of their friends perceived that, at the local state comprehensive school, “bright children do well despite the school, not because of it.”  I was a bright child, one of the top in my class.

My elder daughter Hannah is a bright child, one of the top in her class, despite being one of the youngest in her year-group. She’s got a vocabulary that sometimes seems to baffle her friends as well as grown-ups and she reads voraciously. Her concentration span varies from the excellent to the non-existent, and she gets bored/distracted quite easily, always on the lookout for new ideas.

I know, I know, how could any child of mine be like that?!

Anyway, we recently entered Hannah for the 11+ exams for entry into a local Grammar School. Everyone we knew seemed to think Hannah would get through easily, she seems to have a natural head for the problem-solving types of questions, she’s bright (etc etc). We bought some practice papers and exercises to help her practise the question techniques, and over a couple of months her efforts in timed practice papers at home were encouraging. But she didn’t achieve the required standard in the actual tests, and so won’t be considered by the Grammar School.

We were disappointed. I’m a bit of an academic snob (being bright and all), and I thought she was bright enough to go to the best academic school in the area. But after a bit of reflection (and post-rationalisation!), we’re pleased she can go to the local comprehensive school. It’s less than a mile from our house, so she can walk there and back with her friends. It’s a relatively small school, so it’s pretty friendly and many of the children there live locally. We were very impressed with the Head Teacher and many of the facilities (especially for the Performing Arts), and while it’s not had a great reputation, it’s definitely improving.

What has become clear to me in the past few weeks and months, is that we were in a distinct minority, as we didn’t have Hannah tutored for the tests, and indeed only started to practise with her at home a few months beforehand. There is an impressive (but to me, pretty depressing) website that seems to have everything you need to know about these tests…

If you have found this site at the end of Year 4 or the start of Year 5 it is the ideal time to begin your 11+ DIY “campaign” through with home tutoring…

I’m either naive or stupid for not treating this whole process like a military campaign, like a project with timelines and deadlines. I actually thought this was about whether my child was bright enough and had the right problem-solving abilities, vocabulary, verbal reasoning skills. But it turns out it’s all about teaching for the test.

That same website has a detailed questionnaire that has received over 9,000 responses (more like 6,000 for the financial questions I refer to).
Among the respondents…

• Just under 2/3 admitted to using a private tutor
• On average, they started preparing their children for the 11+ just under a year in advance, with 37% starting more than a year before the tests (when their child was still in Year 4, probably aged 9)
• Those who did use a private tutor spent over £20/hour on average, and over £1,000 in total on tuition

All this makes the 11+ more about teaching and preparation than anything else. Certainly the children have to be bright to pass the exam, but as Michael Rosen so rightly remarks, multiple choice tests are not really about knowledge, or curiosity, or exploration. They are about focus and technique more than discovery and interpretation.

What’s more at the heart of multiple choice tests there is a question of technique. Teachers will teach the exam-taking knowledge to a) bomb on through the test, don’t linger. b) if you don’t know the answer, guess – you’ll have a one in four chance of being right. This last point will almost certainly win you extra marks over the person who is not doing that and has absolutely nothing to do with the syllabus knowledge and everything to do with exam-technique knowledge.

At the last election we were promised less testing and more teaching. I’ve not seen much proof of that, as new single tests for phonics and reading have been introduced for my younger daughter’s year, aged just 6, despite a wealth of evidence suggesting there is certainly no one way of learning to read that suits every child. The pressure of school league table results has been brought to the fore with a recent furore over GCSE marks. These league tables are useful ways to track comparative performance, but are increasingly seen as the be-all-and-end-all. I tend to agree more with this thoughtful article that advocates teaching to stimulate independent thought (wow! controversial, apparently…)

I don’t feel cheated. I do feel disappointed in the system. I don’t blame our friends who did have their children tutored. Not all of them succeeded, but I don’t know anyone who (like us) didn’t employ a tutor whose child passed the tests. It’s a shame that Grammar Schools attract the most able children as that has a knock-on effect on the local comprehensives. It’s a shame the Grammar Schools are so unevenly distributed, as that can affect some areas/schools (like ours) disproportionately. It’s a shame that the 11+ has evolved into something that seems to demand or require private tutoring, which means 9 & 10 year-olds are having hours of tuition after school every week for a year or more. Hannah already has piano lessons, used to go to Tae-Kwan-Do class, and has acted in a junior Am-Dram production. How much more do we expect of them? It’s a shame that this system seems to favour those who can afford £1,000 or more for tuition. It’s a shame that some people have reacted to our news with shock, have assumed that will ‘appeal’, and seem to think that this will blight my daughter’s future prospects.

Most of all, I’ve been upset, frustrated and angry at the way this whole thing has made me feel: like I’m not trying hard enough for my daughter’s education, that in not appealing I don’t care enough, that a few hundred pounds is an investment in her future and by not spending it I’ve failed her. It’s taken me a few weeks, but I Reckon that’s all boll*cks. My only mistake was not playing the system. But I don’t want to play the system: it’s not a level playing-field. I’d rather listen to Hannah playing pop songs by ear on the piano or watch a film with her than sit her down for more homework. She’s 10. And maybe that’s naive. Whatever.

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I love to hear your wondrous stories…

A quote I wanted to use for this piece illustrates its entire theme beautifully. My local and brilliant independent bookshop (of which more later) posted a line attributed to Albert Einstein:

If you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales.

In order to check its authenticity I started hunting around the interweb, and found this much more evocative version..

A concerned mother once visited Albert Einstein to get his counsel on how to help her son become really good in maths. Exactly what was she to read for him to help him evolve into a prominent scientist?
“Folk tales,” said Einstein.
“Okay,” said the mother, “and after that?”
“More folk tales,” said Einstein.
“And after that?” the mother asked again.
“Still more folk tales,” answered Einstein.

Turning the sentiment into a story makes a world of difference. Introducing a concerned mother raises the stakes significantly, we become invested in what wisdom Einstein will bestow on her, and it makes his advice all the more surprising (and as such, more impactful).

I Reckon storytelling is a priceless skill that is essential to our humanity. From centuries of oral history to court jesters, from eyewitness news to inspirational orators, stories are crucial to our understanding of ourselves, our history and our origins. In recent weeks this has been brought home to me really clearly.

It’s squishy spaghetti…

A couple of days ago I went into my younger daughter’s class (5-7 year-olds) to read to them. They usually have “storytime” every day, where they gather round to listen to someone reading aloud. As is typical in many UK primary schools, the vast majority of teaching staff and assistants are female, so they only very rarely (if ever) hear a male voice. So this week the school invited Dads to come in.

I’ve always loved Roald Dahl stories. The mix of surreal fantasy, inventive wordplay, genuine excitement, threat and darkness is brilliant. So I was delighted to be reading The Twits. I love reading fantastical stories like this, as I can unleash my repertoire of silly voices and accents. We have a wonderful audio version of The Twits read brilliantly by Simon Callow, and my own interpretation borrows heavily from him.

It was fantastic to go to town on this, shrieking and cackling in front of a class of children, most of whom I didn’t know, and watch them respond with laughter and gasps, giggles and shouts. I read practically the whole thing, and have secretly hoped ever since that they went home asking their own parents to “do funny voices like Eleanor’s Daddy…”

Last weekend I was given a tremendous Father’s Day treat by my lovely wife and children to go to an intimate performance by The Bookshop Band. Part of a summer ‘festival’ organised by the wonderful, fabulous and profoundly brilliant Yellow-Lighted Bookshop, this was a fantastic 90 minutes, during which I was privileged to watch three brilliant musicians tell stories, and bring stories to life. The band’s songs are all inspired by books, usually key moments or characters, and they are beautifully crafted, shot through with humour, moving, and inventively arranged with all sorts of instruments and striking vocal harmony.

This what I mean…

or this…

I love everything about the Yellow-Lighted Bookshop’s ethos about trying to connect people with books, their stories and their writers. It’s always a pleasure to browse their shop and talk about books with the great staff and other customers. If they haven’t got something in, they can usually get it within 48 hours. They are everything that is human and vital about books that Kindles and e-readers can never be.

I love reading stories to my children. I love hearing them make up stories and role-playing with their Lego, or when they create their own books and illustrations. I love that Hannah has been inspired by Harry Potter and Inkheart and Jacqueline Wilson and Mr Gum. Stories fire our imagination, they help expand our concept of what could be possible, they enrich us.

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You can’t handle the truth…

I’ve written before about how much I love This American Life, living proof that public broadcasting is a very good idea. Every week I download the podcast introduced by Ira Glass and its eclectic, insightful, human stories of life in all its forms.

In January 2012 TAL broadcast a monologue by Mike Daisey, a long-established and successful writer and performer. The Agony and The Ecstasy of Steve Jobs was a compelling and powerful piece about Daisey’s experiences in China, when he visited factories used by Apple to produce their iPhones and iPads. His performance is extraordinary, relating meetings with people poisoned by industrial chemicals, with underage workers, with a man whose hand has been ‘ruined’ by machinery, with armed guards at the factory gates.

Mike Daisey is a great storyteller. That episode of TAL has been downloaded or streamed over 1 million times. He has become an unofficial spokesman for the campaigners seeking to expose industrial conditions in American companies’ plants in China and elsewhere. He has been all over American news channels. His monologue is extremely moving in many different ways. Most importantly, I believed that he had seen and experienced all these things, and it made me care about what’s behind the beautiful Apple touchscreens.

Last week TAL retracted their broadcast of his story; not because it’s all made up, because it’s not. Many of the stories he reports are true, well-reported and documented, often by Apple themselves. Their episode in which they explore the allegations against Apple and other suppliers makes for sometimes bleak listening. The scale of this industrial production is astonishing. Hundreds of thousands of workers fleeing rural poverty has elements of the 19th century about it. But as the programme explains…

There were times in this nation when we had harsh working conditions as part of our economic development. We decided as a nation that that was unacceptable. We passed laws in order to prevent those harsh working conditions from ever being inflicted on American workers again. And what has happened today is that, instead of exporting that standard of life, which is in our capacity to do, we have exported harsh working conditions to another nation.

It is right that people raise these issues. We deserve to at least understand what is done to produce these wondrous devices.

But, and this is a blindingly tough challenge for the bleeding-heart liberal, how far should the truth be manipulated to create a more powerful, more compelling narrative?

Mike Daisey accepts that his monologue is not a factual, historical document of his experiences in China. TAL contacted his translator after a simple Google search despite Daisey claiming he could no longer reach her. She says many of the things in his performance didn’t happen. He attributes conversations to her that didn’t happen. He told TAL producers that her name isn’t Cathy (but it is, for professional purposes at least). He never met a worker whom he actually verified was 12 years old, but in his monologue he says he did.

There are countless inconsistencies in his account. But why should that be a problem if the wider story he is telling is true, and if his methods are getting that story to a wider audience?

I Reckon that the truth should get in the way of a good story, when that story attempts to challenge the status quo, expose hypocrisy or double-standards, and crusades against the the System. A challenge to the vested interests or the established wisdom has to stand up to scrutiny. Scientific research that challenges the existing paradigms, that uncovers anomalies in the way we understand the world, has to be peer-reviewed before it can become the new reality, the new way of explaining the way things are.

Mike Daisey claims that his performance doesn’t need to live up to noraml journalistic standards of accuracy, that he can hide behind the smokescreen of theatrical licence. He claims to be exposing a wider context of truths, and as such his only mistake has been to allow TAL (which takes its journalistic standards very seriously) to broadcast his story.

But I Reckon he is kidding himself. Mike Daisey seems to believe his only mistake has been to allow TAL to broadcast his performance. So lying to their team of producers about the facts and accuracy of his story was their fault?

I Reckon that deep down he knows he has run fast and loose with the facts in a bad way. Noone with his experience writes a piece called The Agony and The Ecstasy of Steve Jobs without thinking, expecting, hoping that it will become news. He wants to expose the reality of the manufacturing process of the iconic products of the 21st century, but instead of his recent interviews being about those realities, they’ve focused on questioning his integrity. TV & press journalists have been challenging his standards (yes, really…). He has become the story. But he isn’t the story. He’s just a messenger, and he’s become a distraction. The TAL team believed his performance was a reflection of what actually happened to him. I believed it. He wants us to believe it.

I Reckon he should apologise, tell the truth about his performance, but keep performing.

Meanwhile, Apple has reported that in the first launch weekend, it has sold 3 million units of the new iPad3.

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Eat less. Move more. Er, that’s it…

At the start of 2011 I made a rash declaration, that I would lose 25lbs by Easter. I failed.

Although I did lose 15lbs in the first few months of the year, it was as though I then plateaued, with no means or will to reach the summit. I felt healthier and happier, my clothes fitted better, what was the problem?

Then I had a health check at our local surgery, where they genuinely seemed quite impressed. My stats were much improved from the start of the year – more lean muscle mass, less fat, lower blood pressure, better aerobic capacity, and so on. But my cholesterol remained stubbornly high. If anything, it was higher than a couple of years ago. Apparently it’s not enough to put me into any kind of risk category, but it still concerned me. My Dad and indeed Rachel’s Dad both have a history of heart disease, and this figure of 7.1 was the slowly-increasing blot on an otherwise clean bill of health.

And all the while in recent times I’ve been feeling my age. First my Achilles and then this year my 42-year-old hip told me that any lingering ambitions towards running should be seriously reined in. My hamstrings and hips frequently ache, usually not much more than a dull background stiffness, but sometimes quite a bit more. Every time I see cosmetic ads about the visible signs of aging, I can only think that the invisible signs are the ones we need to worry about…

A couple of months ago, Rachel and a couple of friends decided they wanted to take collective charge of their own fitness and health. Rather than pouring money into clubs like Weight Watchers or Slimming World, they started using a free fitness/diet website. Multiple studies have indicated that the simple act of keeping an honest and comprehensive (admittedly two very crucial descriptors) food diary significantly improves weight loss over and above any other initiatives. This website and its very usable mobile version has kept them focused.

Record all your food (calories in) and your exercise/activity (calories out). And if you consistently eat fewer calories than your body burns off by just doing stuff, you will lose weight. Rachel and her friends meet every week for a chat and put a couple of pounds into their communal jar. They each know the others’ goals (weight loss, fitness etc) and as such can ‘reward’ themselves when they achieve their goals.

I’ve become a sort-of unofficial member of this club, and since October I’ve lost a further 10lbs. Portions have got smaller. I consciously park further from my office, so that I have a steep hill to climb when I go back to my car at the end of the day, and go to the gym two or three times each week. There’s no complicated diet plans involved, just eating less and moving more, most days. As 2o11 comes to an end, I have lost 25lbs, and it feels terrific. People have commented. I fasten my belts two notches tighter, shirts that hung loose are now tucked in, trousers that were uncomfortable now feel loose. I need some new clothes.

A visual history...

I’ll be honest, in the last week or so the inevitable Christmas period of gourmet family gatherings have taken their toll. I like cheese and spiced ham and bread sauce and cheese and roast potatoes and cheese, sometimes on the same plate with a large glass of three of wine. At the same time as this gluttony, I’ve been pretty inactive: the most challenging activity has been carrying piles of plates and food from the kitchen to the table.

But I’ve started this weight gain from a far lower base. I still weigh 2olbs lighter than 12 months ago, and I feel confident I can lose this additional Christmas weight. Importantly, I’ve put on weight through ‘abnormal’ behaviour, rather than the other way around. In 2011 my ‘normal’ lifestyle has evolved into something that includes regular exercise and smaller portions at mealtimes. Our everyday diet still includes cheese, eggs, meat and fish. It doesn’t feel like I’m depriving myself. I still enjoy a good blow-out dinner party, or a takeaway, or a few pints. I know that I have to make an effort to be healthy, because I’m worth it.

The visible signs of aging that matter aren’t wrinkles around the eyes. I can make some difference to them with a good diet, plenty of water, exercise and sleep. More important was my bulging waistline, the silent creep into larger sizes, a long-term acceptance that I can’t move like I used to.

Forgive me for shoe-horning the wonderful Matilda! musical into everything, but there are lines that make so much sense…

…just because you find that life’s not fair it doesn’t mean that you just have to grin and bear it,
If you always take it on the chin and wear it nothing will change…

Don’t make a rubbish resolution next weekend that won’t make a difference. Last year I tried to be bold, and only partially succeeded. But because my resolution was about things that really matter, my health, well-being and self-esteem, I didn’t shrug off the failure.

 

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…until who knows where the trembling stops…

I’ve often reflected on the small things, the coincidences that may not seem important at the time, but can unutterably alter the future course of a life. Obviously this reflection tends to happen when I’m not quite as busy as I have been in recent weeks, as I’ve barely been able to keep up with this blog. I have themes and ideas backed up, if only I could work out when or how to commit time and energy to the writing.

When I was 13, my parents returned from a routine meeting with my teachers, with the suggestion from my music teacher that I might like to take up an instrument, for example, the French Horn. That conversation changed everything. I did take up the Horn, it did become a major part of my university social life, I do still play today, and I met Rachel in the university orchestra.

When I was 18 I failed to get into Oxford University. At a loss to know what to do next (I hadn’t failed very often up to that point) I ended up on an exchange scheme, on which I went to High School in Princeton in the US for a semester. There I truly blossomed, coming out of my intellectual, angst-ridden, insecure teenage self into a new environment where noone knew me except for who I was right there and then, with no baggage. This huge boost in confidence shaped me for my life at university and beyond.

Before I left for the US at the start of January, I was awaiting offers from other universities. My 2nd choice after Oxford was Durham, who wrote to say that they wanted to interview me (despite already having achieved 3 Grade ‘A’s). My 3rd choice was Exeter, who offered me a place without any interview. Frankly, I couldn’t be bothered to schlep 450 miles round-trip to Durham, just days before leaving for America for 8 months. Almost on a petulant whim, I declined their ‘offer’ of an interview and accepted Exeter: job done.

In the first months of my final year at Exeter, I was feeling bad. I’d enjoyed and then suffered a very brief, fairly intense relationship (my first for 2 years), I was putting a good deal of pressure on myself in my studies, while Britain was entering a recession in which the job prospects for graduates were pretty bleak. And then my father’s mother died. She had been very ill following a stroke for a long time, but it still hit me a lot harder than I cared to admit. My housemates were all due to travel up to Oxford for a party with friends who had graduated the previous year, but because of the timing of the funeral, I didn’t go with them. I was in Exeter alone, and fed up. So I hosted a dinner party (my first) for friends from the orchestra. We ate and drank and went onto The Lemon Grove, semi-legendary and mostly tacky student night club on campus.

And it was there, on Saturday 23rd November 1991, 20 years ago last month, that I first met Rachel; on a night out that by all normal expectations would not have happened, but for the seemingly random event of my grandmother’s death. We talked and I walked her back to her rooms – she was a 1st Year. We drank coffee and laughed a long time about Monty Python’s Life of Brian. It wasn’t all completely plain sailing after that, but my life since that weekend has been different, in a very, very good way.

The title of this post was taken from the writings of Frederick Buechner, an American theologian.

The life I touch for good or ill will touch another life, and in turn another, until who knows where the trembling stops or in what far place my touch will be felt.

Every Christmas Rachel and I like to watch the Frank Capra / Jimmy Stewart classic It’s a Wonderful Life. Not because of the carol-singing at the end, not because Clarence gets his wings, but because of its wonderful life-affirming message. Good people who treat other people kindly matter. They do make a difference. The film goes through a lot of darkness before emerging into the light: don’t forget George Bailey tries to kill himself in the opening moments. There’s frustration and disappointment aplenty before the bell finally rings.

Some things, events, decisions in our lives barely register at the time but can have amazing consequences. Other things feel like the whole world has exploded or been ripped from under you (like almost everything when you’re 17), but in the end don’t matter all that much in the grand scheme of things. Ultimately, it all matters, but often in ways we cannot predict.

I try not to spend too much time reflecting on the what-might-have-beens, as I can’t change them now, and I’m glad of that. But I often remind myself to be grateful for the coincidences and chances that brought me here.

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Allow me to make a snobservation…

We were first bitten by the camping bug a couple of years ago, and this year our summer is punctuated by several trips (long weekends in the main) to new and familiar sites. Last week we spent 4 nights at Norden Farm just outside Corfe Castle in Dorset. If life really is a journey and we can learn something from every experience, allow me to share…

My daughters are freakin’ brilliant kids. I love them to pieces. This trip reminded me just how much (as if I needed reminding). More details to follow below…

Dorset might just be my new Devon/Cornwall. Much as I love that Southwest peninsula, we’ve spent this break in the ‘Isle’ of Purbeck and a week in West Dorset this year, and I’ve really loved it. Studland Bay is a simply gorgeous beach, and the whole Jurassic Coast is full of surprises, delights and treasures…

Lulworth Cove

There is almost nowhere cosier in the world than the four of us under the duvet in the early morning.

Camping is definitely at its best when you let your body clock slow down and you simply exist in the moment. Things take longer, so let them. You’re at the mercy of the weather (more of this too!) so just go with it. If there’s a queue for the washing up facilities, don’t panic. You’ll get it done soon. I really wanted to spend more time at Studland Bay, but the brevity of our stay and the unseasonal weather conspired against us. So now I just want to go back…

Camping is about walking, not driving. I really liked the proximity of this campsite to Corfe Castle. From zipping up the tent we could walk up the hill to woods that surrounded the site, and barely 15 minutes later we were rewarded with a stunning view of this amazing ruin.

We coined the phrase ‘snobservation‘ during this trip (it was new for us). In a large campsite like Norden Farm, with so many strangers living in close proximity and relatively cramped quarters, most with their children, and lacking solid, insulating walls, it’s difficult to avoid family arguments or particular styles of parenting…

…my empirical evidence from last week would suggest that siblings between the ages of 3 and 13 can play well together for between 48% and 81% of the time. But they do spend most of the rest of the time screaming; at each other, at their parents, at the world. Or at least it seemed that other children scream, and their parents often scream back. Without meaning or wanting to sound smug, I am genuinely proud of my girls for the way they don’t scream or yell or bellow over trivial matters. Of course they quarrel and squabble and sometimes shout at each other, but they also apologise and forgive. For a 9- and 5-year old they seem pretty emotionally mature <end of smugness>.

Having previously experienced pretty fantastic weather on our camping breaks, we were brought down to earth by Dorset in August. The forecast had been OK for most of the week, but it mostly turned out to be breezy, not-that-warm, and cloudy with intermittent drizzle and showers. We still managed to do most of the things we wanted to, but then on Thursday the bland predictions of ‘heavy rain’ came true with a vengeance. It started raining in the early hours of the morning, but by breakfast time it was a constant downpour. As fair-weather campers this was not what we signed up for. We had planned ahead for this and pre-booked cinema tickets, but as we left the site and drove to Poole, conditions seemed to get much, much worse.

It was clear the rain was falling much more quickly than the drains could cope. Main roads were awash, fast becoming barely-passable fords. In fact, 2 weeks’ rainfall was delivered in just a few hours and parts of Bournemouth were suddenly under water.  We went to see Studio Ghibli’s latest work of wondrous beauty, Arrietty, which we all loved. On emerging from the cinema it was still hammering down with rain (in fact I’d flinched several times during the film as I could hear the rain on the roof of the cinema), and we were increasingly nervous. What would we find when we returned to the campsite?

Well, our tent is fantastic. Not a leak, not a drip. Only a couple of instances of condensation resulting in tiny splashes of water in a couple of corners.

And then, what a difference a day makes. Friday dawned bright and sunny, clear and calm. We indulged in a tremendous breakfast and learned (again) that proper food cooked and eaten outside simply does taste better. The morning was so sunny that the tent even managed to dry out completely before we had to pack it away.

Camping Breakfast of Champions: cheese omelette, bacon roll, baked beans, tea.

I’m not a completely fair-weather camper any more. I can cope just fine with less-than-perfect conditions, but I definitely don’t want to do Thursday again. Roll on and fingers crossed for our trip over the Bank Holiday next weekend…

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And the skills of the fathers…

Within the 10 Commandments, The Old Testament God exclaims

…I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children, on the third and the fourth generations of those who hate Me…

Ouch.

I like to think of myself as a jealous Father (cautionary note to my daughters and their future boyfriends), but in a good way. It’s my job as a Father to guide and instruct, coach and encourage my daughters, as my Father coached and encouraged me. And so this year, aged 42, I went through another rite of passage; like learning to ride a bike, to carve a roast, to put up shelves. My Dad helped me to lay a patio.

This project has taken a while. We started the whole thing last Autumn, when we finally decided to do something about our somewhat cramped patio and the small retaining wall that made it even more claustrophobic. Out came the sledgehammer and pickaxe as I took to removing the blocks and old concrete base.

This 'little' wall filled the car with rubble three times over

Three trips to the tip and we had the beginnings of a ditch that still seemed a long way from becoming a patio. Then I received a £600 bill for my car service. And so it came to pass that the patio project was put on hold until Spring.

From the back garden to the front drive, into the car and out again at the tip...

Unlike last year, Spring 2011 seemed to start quite early, so we decided to ‘crack on’ with the work. I started digging out the foundations again, requiring another 3 full estate-car-with-the-back-seats-down-boot-loads of concrete and soil (mostly full of ground elder roots) to the tip. Having experienced less-than-stellar-service from our local Builders’ Merchants before Christmas, we were careful to plan our materials’ requirements very carefully. And as I was attempting to extend the patio around the existing slabs, it was all a bit wonky. I measured and mapped it out on the computer, using different coloured shapes for different sized slabs. In fact, I mapped it out several times, worried that I’d got it wrong.

We were referring to the New Bible of Garden Improvement: Tommy Walsh’s Outdoor DIY. He was more useful than any website we discovered, and proved very helpful. It’s not too much to say that his Book provided no little enlightenment, and a few handy Insider’s Tips to achieve Salvation.

Digging out the space...

After I’d made an unholy mess digging out the foundations, we took out the pressure washer. We’ve lived in this house for more than 7 years, and have never cleaned the patio slabs. I’m not quite sure why I was so surprised at how much filth came off the old patio, but we did enjoy an odd game of noughts & crosses while we were there.

It had been some time since we gave the old patio a clean...

I wasn’t really sure what the materials we ordered would look like. I’ve never needed 3 tonnes of scalpings, sharp sand and soft sand, 10 bags of cement and a load of paving slabs before. It’s only a small extension to our patio, it’s only 7 square metres (not 7m²!), but it turns out that it’s quite a lot. Barrow after barrow of stones and sand were dug out of the sack, wheeled through the garage and over a makeshift ramp to get out the back door, emptied into the trench, raked over, tramped down, and so on…

Preparing the base layers...

3 tonnes of sand and sub-base, and some heavy slabs...

Nearly ready to go now...

And at the end of it we seemed to have an enormous amount of stuff left over. We ended up taking seven out of ten cement bags back. And I’d still got the slabs pattern wrong, so the gaps between some of them are slightly larger than others. But I don’t think Tommy Walsh would mind.

Well, this isn't so bad...

Putting the slabs down wasn’t as bad as I feared it might be. We did take quite a bit of time mixing small batches of cement, as I didn’t have either a mechanical mixer, or even a big sheet of  plastic… But the maxim of ‘it’s all in the preparation’ is genuinely true. I had spent lots of time levelling and measuring the sub-base and sand, which meant we were just laying the slabs on the cement on the sand, and it all seemed to work OK. Dad helped for the first day’s work, where we got about 70% of it done, and I did the rest by myself the next day. And so it came to pass that the skills of my father were visited unto me.

So far, so good; just the pointing to do…

Now we're getting somewhere

Why did no one tell me about pointing? The gaps between many of the old slabs had been full of weeds, so we blasted them out with the pressure washer. That looked better, but then meant that practically the entire patio needed re-pointing; many, many hours of kneeling down, face close to the ground, trowels of wet cement, clouds of dusty cement/sand mix, brushing the excess off the slabs before it sets or stains, over and over and over.

Meanwhile, Rachel has been busy restocking the flower beds that we devastated in digging out the wall and new space, returning pots to the patio, and we’ve put in a strip of new turf. We’ve got plenty of room to eat outside, and it’s made the whole garden feel considerably bigger. After seven months of (intermittent) labours since October, our work is complete. When we look upon that which we’ve created, we reckon it’s pretty good. My Dad is impressed too, in his own way.

The Herb & Clematis Bed...

Can you see all that neat pointing, can you?!

Our new and improved sunny dining spot...

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10 Reasons the Aussies won’t win for a while…

I’m an English sports fan, so I’m not naturally very good at schadenfreude. I don’t tend to get many opportunities to practise, but at 12.56am (GMT) on Friday 7th January 2011, England won the Sydney test match against Australia, concluding a dominant 3-1 series win to retain The Ashes.

’3-1′ doesn’t quite do justice to what actually happened. I’ve been thinking for a few days how I was going to write this piece, until I was alerted to an article written by Will Swanton before the series started, back in November 2010, entitled 10 Reasons the Poms won’t Win. Of course it’s hyperbole and overstated, but you might be able to guess from the title of my piece that I’m revelling in the glory of hindsight to take Mr Swanton’s brave assertions to task and review how England did win The Ashes for the 3rd time in the last 4 series.

1. Overrated

They [England] walked around The Oval after their dominant home summer like they were God’s gifts to Wisden. Here’s who they really beat. No one. Nuffies and cheats. England clean-swept the worst team on the planet, Bangladesh, and then won three out of four Tests against rotten Pakistan. Now they’re portrayed as superstars.

Er, not really. But we did recognise this was perhaps our best chance to win in Australia for a generation. Before the Ashes England were ranked 3rd in the ICC Test Rankings, with 112 points. Australia were 4th with 110. There has been a nice joke going around (among many, many others) in the last couple of days…

What do you call a world-class Australian cricketer? Retired.

2. Kevin Pietersen

He might be growing a moustache for a very good cause but he’s still getting around looking like Dirk Diggler out of Boogie Nights. His most recent Test efforts have been the biggest joke. John Buchanan was right with his assessment of Pietersen. Buchanan was panned because the truth hurt. There’s more than one ‘I’ in Kevin Pietersen and it hurts morale.

It was true that against South Africa and Pakistan in 2009/2010 Pietersen had averaged barely 25 and didn’t score a century during the 12 months before The Ashes, even including 4 tests against Bangladesh. BUT…

…he averaged 60 in The Ashes, scoring more runs in 6 innings than any Australian (except Watson and Hussey) managed in 9 innings. He hit a career-best 227 at Adelaide and was the only batsmen in either side’s top six with a strike rate over 60.

3. No top speedster

Jimmy Anderson, Stuart Broad and Steve Finn are respectable quicks. But they lack the fear factor. Every truly great attack has someone pushing 150km/h, like Mitchell Johnson does for Australia. None of the touring fast bowlers are frightening. Away from swing and seam-friendly England, that doesn’t leave them with much.

When Mitchell Johnson came out to bat on the last day of the series, The Barmy Army rose to welcome him with their tribute song…

He bowls to the left, he bowls to the right, that Mitchell Johnson – his bowling is shite

In Perth Johnson took 9/82 and blew England away in their first innings with a spell of almost unplayable hostility and venom. In the rest of the series he took 6/472 at nearly 4.5 runs per over. The worst economy rate from the England bowlers was Steve Finn at 4.3, but Anderson, Bresnan and Broad all average under 3 runs per over.

In Sydney England’s bowlers generated swing and movement where Australia could not. Everyone in the English attack took wickets and looked like taking wickets. Across the whole series, England took a wicket every 9 overs, while Australia took nearly 15 overs. The England attack as a whole has become more than the sum of its parts.

4 Passive captain

Andrew Strauss has to lead by example because his introverted demeanour doesn’t get the blood pumping too much. Only his scores do. He leads with quiet assurance when things are going well. But he comes across as introverted and submissive when things start going pear-shaped.

307 runs, 1 century and 3 fifties at 44 made Strauss only the 5th best English batsmen, but just for a moment let’s compare that to Ricky Ponting, the Australian captain. Even including 51* in the dead final innings at Brisbane he scored 113 runs from 8 innings at just 16.1, a worse performance than even the much-maligned Michael Clarke, newcomer Steven Smith and bowler Peter Siddle. After the first innings at Brisbane until Perth, his bowlers took 304 overs to take 6 wickets. His impotency and frustration ultimately led to an ugly on-field row with the umpire.

Just as England are only slowly getting used to winning, Ponting is a distinctly ungracious loser. But he is a loser (3 out of the last 4 Ashes series).

5 No superstars

Pietersen is as good as anyone when he’s in the mood, but he hasn’t been in the mood for a long time. He couldn’t make a hundred against Bangladesh – his 99 was close but no cigar – and Doug Bollinger, Ben Hilfenhaus and Johnson can smell blood. Graeme Swann is the only Englishman to make a world XI right now.England are successful because they know their limitations. Which means there are limitations.

I hope I’ve already dealt with KP… Looking at test performances over 2010 (which includes most of the Ashes), A World XI would be largely made up of Indians and South Africans – they are the best two teams after all. However, Jonathan Trott and Alistair Cook feature well in the top test batsmen, while Jimmy Anderson and Graeme Swann are in with a shout as bowlers from the England squad. No Australians get even close. In fact, only Mike Hussey would get into a Best Ashes XI, let alone anything grander.

6 Over-analysis

They’ve faced bowling machines with footage of Australian speedsters running in at them – and still didn’t want to know about Mitchell Johnson. They’ve given themselves three weeks in Australia to acclimatise but haven’t played on pitches like the monster they’ll encounter at the Gabba. Every breath they take is a part of a suffocating plan. There’s no freedom, nothing instinctive or adventurous. Paralysis by over-analysis.

There’s a famous saying about American Football: ‘offense sells tickets, defence wins championships’. England’s plans are how to take 20 wickets, and prevent the other team from taking 20 wickets. England occupied the crease until the Aussie bowlers wilted and lost discipline (which didn’t take long) and bowled tremendously as a unit. The only paralysis was in the Australian team. Unable to overcome the suffocating English team, they tried to play adventurously and instinctively and they got themselves out, none more amusingly than Shane Watson…

7 No depth

In such a cramped schedule, injuries are bound to hit both camps. England are in serious strife if they lose any of their first XI. There’s a vast gulf between their top-tier players and those on the standby list. Australia can only hope and pray that off-spinner Monty Panesar is called in for Graeme Swann. Australia have eight Test-standard speedsters in the queue.

Rubbish. Tim Bresnan & Chris Tremlett came off the standby list to play 5 tests between them. They took 28 wickets at under 22 runs each, far better than (virtually) all the Australian bowlers, top-tier (sic) or not.

Phil Hughes came in to replace Simon Katich and batted 6 times for just 97 runs. Only 3 Australian bowlers managed an average of under 60, while every England bowler (except the injured Broad) averaged under 40…

8 Chokers

This is England we’re talking about. Losing is a tradition. Think soccer World Cups. Think Tim Henman at Wimbledon. Think every cricket tour of Australia since 1986-87. They always arrive talking themselves up, vowing they won’t wilt under the heat and pressure and scrutiny, then wilt under the heat and pressure and scrutiny. They’ve hired a self-described Yips Doctor – because they need one.

After England lost Captain Strauss for a 3rd ball-duck on the first morning in Brisbane, and conceded over 200 runs on 1st innings, I’m sure Will Swanton was enjoying these words. However, England’s next 2 innings  were worth 1,137/6. After being blitzed on the Gabba, England then bounced back with 1,157 in 2 innings at Melbourne and Sydney, bowling out Australia 4 times for just 917.

After the 1st test, Australia couldn’t manage more than 309 in an innings. Their top 4 wickets only twice made more than 134 in 8 innings. The bowlers were listless and ill-disciplined, lacking bite. There appeared to be no fight from Australia, perhaps the most shocking aspect of the last few weeks. And now they seem to be in denial about it.

9 Warm-ups

Everyone keeps rattling on about England’s perfect preparation. They must be having a laugh. A few of them made runs at Adelaide Oval. It’s like batting on the Hume Highway. Anyone seen the scorecards? Western Australia rolled England for 223. South Australia dismissed them for 288 on the Hume. And Australia A ripped through their top order in Hobart A yesterday. Perfectly prepared? Piffle.

He’s right (at last). The preparation only counts for so much. England won where it mattered.

10 Scars

Five of their top six batsmen are the same lot who stumbled and bumbled through the 5-0 loss on England’s last trip to Australia. The scarring is deep and real. Jimmy Anderson’s memories of Australia are all nightmarish. He averaged 45.16. Broad and Finn are yet to play a Test series in Australia. Hard surfaces jarring bones and muscles, oppressive heat – they won’t know what or who has hit them.

Broad got injured, but bowled 70 overs at less than 2.3 runs per over. Finn took more wickets in 3 tests than any Aussie bowler except Johnson, with a better average than Siddle or Hilfenhaus. Anderson bowled 56 more overs (35% more) than any Aussie pace bowler, taking 24 wickets at less than 26 runs each and 3 runs per over.

Alistair Cook scored almost as many runs as Australia’s No.1, 2 & 3 combined. He scored more centuries than their entire team. Despite 2-3 fewer innings each, England’s top 6 scored 2,290 runs compared to Australia’s 1,722. They achieved 2 double-hundreds, 6 centuries and 10 fifties, compared to just 2 centuries and 11 fifites. Four of the English Top 6 averaged over 60 for the series, against one Australian.

 

Picture from ecb.co.uk

I’ve barely mentioned Matt Prior or Ian Bell (nearly 600 runs at over 50), and only skimmed the surface of Cook’s amazing series. But in the big scheme of things, England are now clearly the 3rd best test team in the world. They must now prove themselves against South Africa and India. But Australia have fallen from 4th to 5th behind Sri Lanka, and it’s hard to see them coming back very quickly. Shame.

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I’m going to lose 25lbs by Easter…

Right. This is it. Definitely. Enough is enough. I tweeted and posted a Facebook status about this on New Year’s Eve. So it’s official. And now this makes it even more official. If that’s possible.

I am going to get fitter and lose 25lbs by Easter 2011.

I ran the London Marathon in 1998. I’d never run seriously before, in fact at school I hated ‘cross-country’, despite being reasonably fit through playing rugby and hockey. But I stuck to a training regime and found that lots of exercise enabled me to eat like a horse (albeit a carnivorous horse) and still lose weight. By the time of the race I weighed around 12 stone (172lbs), probably 10-15lbs below my ‘normal’ weight.

I’ve been gaining weight and losing fitness gradually during the last decade. The blissful comfort of marriage, my natural foodiness and love of cooking and eating, a daily commute of an hour each way, two young children and my own laziness have all contributed. For the past couple of years I’ve hovered around 200lbs +/- a few…

Officially this makes me ‘overweight’, but probably not so much so that I need to be really concerned. Apparently I carry it well. I watched Trinny and Susannah take on Jeremy Clarkson, and I accepted that my trousers should go up a waist size, I tucked my shirts in a little less.

But there’s a history of heart disease in my family, and I know I have high cholesterol. I like eating salads, pulses, oily fish, porridge and other things that are good for that, but I also like less healthy things like pies, cheese and wine.

mmmmm - pies

Over the last 6 months I’ve gradually gained another 10 lbs, so that for the first time in my life the scales start with a ’15′. I weighed 210lbs / 15 stone on New Year’s Eve 2010, and I don’t like the way that makes me look, or the way I feel.

It first really struck me a while before Christmas, while I was watching the films about Jacques Mesrine, starring Vincent Cassel. The young Mesrine was a slim, attractive firebrand. But after years of apparently successful bank raids he got used to lying around and cooking fine foods, and especially in the second of the two films, we see him wandering around his apartments, belly hanging out. Vincent Cassel put on 45lbs to play the role, and evidently they shot the film in reverse chronology, so he could lose the weight gradually and keep filming. Anyway, those shots of his middle age spread touched a nerve…

To be fair, I've never been this slim...

Put down the Big Guns, and I'll try to outrun you...

And so enough is now enough. I am actually going to lose weight and get healthy. My main aim is to be 185lbs by Easter; that’s 25lbs weight loss in around 17 weeks. My BMI would then be marginally over 25. If I can maintain that, maybe I’ll try for a little more, but to be honest I’ve not been consistently that weight for nearly 10 years.  I don’t want to live on a permanent diet, so I’ve started going back to the gym. Once I’ve got into that routine, maybe I’ll start running again.

This is going to happen.

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End of a Century…it’s nothing special

It’s almost exactly 19 months since I opened this WordPress account and started blogging. Recently I suggested to another blogger that for his 100th post he should list 100 things he had learnt since starting his blog. He gamely accepted the challenge, so some similar list is the least I can do…

So, looking back so far, a ‘York Notes’ version of What I Reckon (May 2009 – December 2010)

1. Aiming to post 2-3 times a week is a noble aim, but not at 600 words a time.
2. It’s about people (not data segments or clusters or whatever).
3. Don’t try and surf if you can’t easily and smoothly stand up from lying prone on solid ground.
4. Fish are friends, not food.
5. Sometimes sitting down with an icecream is more fun than flying a kite.
6. I think you’ll find it’s a bit more complicated than that.
7. The smell of Birds’ Custard makes me think of Sunday lunch when I was a child.
8. Businesses should stop centralising and get closer to their local communities.
9. Dr John Mislow was a friend of mine a long time ago. His death at 39 is a tragedy.
10. Arthur Honnegger’s ‘Pacific 231’ is a brilliant evocation of the power of the steam train.
11. I really don’t want the BBC to tell me what other people reckon about the news. I want the BBC to tell me the news.
12. Advertising can sometimes produce very moving, powerful campaigns for good.
13. There’s skint, and there’s middle class skint. I know which I am, and I am grateful.
14. The Wire is the best TV series I’ve ever seen, even better than Mad Men.
15. The menu découvert at Le Manoir aux Quat’Saisons is expensive, but astonishingly good value.
16. I think you’ll find it’s a bit more complicated than that.
17. Man on Wire is a fantastic biopic, documentary and heist movie all at once.
18. The Merlin Entertainments London Eye is a stunning way to see London, but it was also a soulless corporate experience for me.
19. Stuff takes longer when you’re camping, but in a good way.
20. Marketing is usually the application of common sense.
21. U2 are a brilliant band, and their live shows are tremendous.
22. One of the best things about my week is listening to Filmspotting.
23. Most products can be easily and almost instantly substituted for a functionally identical alternative. The difference is in design, experience and how it makes you feel.
24. Margaret Thatcher was wrong. There is such a thing as society, and it’s not David Cameron’s ‘Big’ version either.
25. This American Life, presented by the peerless Ira Glass, is a marvellous radio show.
26. Queen were a terrific band, and Freddie Mercury the greatest front man of all-time.
27. The mound above Tarn Hows is a wonderful spot to have lunch, looking across to the Langdale Pikes.
28. Cormac McCarthy’s The Road is a masterpiece.
29. Social Media isn’t complicated. It’s a conversation. Be interesting, and listen to what other people are saying.
30. Revolutionary Road has much to praise, but ultimately I found it hollow, considerably less than the sum of its parts.
31. The problem with most brands is that they want to talk about themselves all the time.
32. Andy Goldsworthy is a tremendous ‘natural artist’.
33. Sometimes my iPod shuffle command seems to know what it’s doing, and creates playlists of real beauty.
34. The PCC  seems pretty toothless to me.
35. Watching a film on a train can be dangerous. It can leave you utterly unprepared for the real world at the end of the journey.
36. Orange seems to take me for granted. And yet I stay with them. What does that say about #23?
37. The end of The Graduate is the least triumphant happy ending in cinema.
38. A Gary Larson cartoon and a Jack Johnson quote have driven more traffic to my blog than any other post…
39. Real mail is at least as important as email.
40. I wish I was half as cool as Christopher Walken.
41. If you want me to care about you’re supposedly trying to sell, at least pretend like you care about me.
42. There’s something very empty about the same sort of people drinking the same drinks sat at the same tables listening to the same music in ‘chain bars’ all over the country.
43. Did I mention that The Wire is the best TV ever made? Ever.
44. The opening paragraph of Jim Crace’s Quarantine is as good as anything I’ve read in years. The rest of the book is pretty darn great too.
45. Bono learnt a lot of what he knows from Freddie Mercury, except the bit about not taking himself too seriously.
46. ‘Company Policy’ is usually the death-knell to allowing staff to treat customers decently
47. Men, as a rule, hate indiscriminate shopping.
48. Anyone who thinks It’s a Wonderful Life is schmaltzy sentimentality run riot hasn’t been paying attention.
49. In Rainbows is as close to a perfect album as pretty much anything I’ve heard.
50. Everyone wants to be where someone loves them best of all…
51. I got tired of writing about poor customer service, because it doesn’t seem to change anything.
52. Corporate car adverts need to be less boastful about how good their cars are, and pay attention to #41 above…
53. Let us all be Dinosaurs and Lovely Other Dinosaurs together. For the sun is warm. And the world is a beautiful place.
54. The Cluetrain Manifesto is as relevant now as when it was written 11 years ago.
55. I need to review my old posts more often – several video embeds are now defunct…
56. PT Anderson is a brilliant director, probably the best around.
57. I laugh more in an episode of Green Wing than in a whole series of most comedy shows.
58. John Hillcoat’s adaptation of The Road is a fine film, but not quite a masterpiece.
59. Keeping a written record of significant experiences is a lovely way to remind myself that my life is pretty darn fine, actually.
60. Many businesses swing wildly between a plan based on pie-in-the-sky assumptions with no foundation, and analysis-paralysis.
61. BBC 6Music packs in more variety in a day than most commercial stations do in a month.
62. I hoped the UK General Election in May 2010 would lead to positive change. I was half-right.
63. Devon and Cornwall have beaches to rival anywhere in Europe.
64. Many of my favourite songs are under 3 minutes long; perfectly-formed pieces of beautiful art.
65. I truly hoped the Conservative / Lib-Dem coalition would be a progressive force for change in UK politics. I was naive.
66. 2 of my Top 3 films of the last decade are not in English (City of God and The Lives of Others).
67. Sometimes traffic to my blog comes from the most unlikely sources (Lady Gaga?!).
68. Cate Blanchett is one of the most interesting actresses working today.
69. Companies need to care more about their agencies.
70. Uncovering decades-old diaries can be both uplifting and uncomfortable.
71. When you are dancing and laughing and finally living, hear my voice in your head and think of me kindly.
72. Usain Bolt is a greater role-model and champion than any English footballer.
73. The salaries of the 24 players in England’s dismal World Cup squad would pay for over 3,300 British Soldiers.
74. Martin Luther King never spoke in terms of SMART objectives.
75. Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows…
76. Volunteering for The National Trust enables me to meet great people and do some good. Nice.
77. (Despite the doping scandals) The Tour de France is a sporting spectacle like nothing else.
78. There is no political violence, only criminal violence. But this can be state-sanctioned too.
79. Natwest Bank’s ‘Helpful Banking’ campaign is depressingly cautious and underwhelming.
80. Gifford’s Circus is brilliant old-school entertainment.
81. I am incredibly proud of the way my 5-year-old daughter deals with her  nut allergy
82. Anvil! The story of Anvil is as wonderful a love story as you’ll ever see.
83. There is nothing worse in life than being blind in Granada…
84. Roald Dahl is my favourite author for children.
85. Does our ability to overcome nature make us immune to its danger and challenges?
86. It’s really important to believe in your own abilities: you can be better than you’re currently allowed to be.
87. The 24-hour-news cycle means we make mountains out of molehills and forget very quickly.
88. Easyjet are not as bad as they’re made out to be.
89. The Bugle is the perfect antidote to the 24-hour-news-cycle
90. The shared experience of the Twitterati watching Strictly Come Dancing or X-Factor proves that appointment TV viewing is not dead.
91. The Cove is a brilliant and shocking documentary that does for (part of) the Japanese fishing industry what Jamie Oliver has tried to do for battery chicken farming in the UK
92. There is such a thing as too much choice.
93. Long live Jesse Smith’s Butcher in Tetbury and all those like it.
94. Movember is a terrific charity, and it brought our team at work closer together. The power of the Mo is real…
95. Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen is another near-perfect album.
96. I grew a moustache and I liked it (for a month anyway)
97. I’m a French Horn player and proud of it.
98. I’m also proud of this blog. Thanks for reading.
99. Struggling now… as it’s nearly Christmas, can I point you in the direction of my recipe for a lovely festive season?
100. Trying to plan ahead with posts, especially when my blog is reasonably wide-ranging in scope, is important. I get distracted easily and lose focus. Outlining is important, and writer’s block is real.

I hope I can continue to feel proud of this for another 100 posts, and that you can continue to find it interesting. Thanks for reading and supporting my little blog.

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