tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24532654015348214772008-12-04T21:42:16.159ZWelcome to my blog. Nothing moves fast here, so take your time. It's my own peaceful blip on the vast cyberclutter of life. A place to record the significant, and introduce some of the remarkable people that surround us --- Ani Holdsworth --- County Durham, UKAni Holdsworthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/038772294262230114244mph@holdsworthonline.comBlogger241251094638http://www.feedburner.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453265401534821477.post-40574427958428252972008-11-27T12:22:00.012Z2008-11-28T10:29:57.613Z2008-11-28T10:29:57.613Z

Posted by Ben Holdsworth We are sad to report the extinction of the last Postum on the planet. “What is Postum?” some may ask. Postum was an instant coffee substitute made from roasted wheat, bran, molasses and corn. It was a “healthy” alternative invented in 1895 by CW Post — a student of Dr John Harvey Kellogg — who wanted to avoid drinking tea and coffee due to ill effects of caffeine.

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(All quotes from Wallace and Gromit, A Grand Day Out) Being vegetarian is easy here. Fresh fruit and veg is well-presented, often prewashed, always overpriced. Prepared foods display a green “V,” and the grocer’s cooler is packed with sumptuous meals sans meat. But organic and vegan... The first, in its purest sense, I’m unable to afford; the latter, too lazy to embrace. In regard to veganism,

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Tate Modern, London We bump into her group at the Ave Maria installation by Maurizio Cattelan: Three male right-armed salutes protrude from a white wall. The first, she says, “represents Hail Mary, when Angel Gabriel announced she is to become the mother of God. The next arm...” She draws a blank, walks to the wall, reading glasses to nose inspects the plaque. “Yesss.” “The second,” she

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The backdrop, a dark, enormous space. 2,400 flickering tea lights swirl translucent shapes on colossal pillars. Objects magnified, shadows long, sweet smoke of incense in the air. Outside, the wind dances with Cathedral bells. Forty days after Christmas, on February 2, the Feast of Candlemas celebrates the presentation of Christ in the Temple. “We’ll go to the grocery store, then the Cathedral

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His face is flushed, sweaty. He heaves a massive plank into an enormous tree. Repeatedly. In the rain. The ground is littered with leaves, branches. He’s insistent, consistent, determined. “Have you lost your ball?” we ask young Jack whom we greet often on our daily walks. “No,” he shouts high-pitched and out of breath, “I’m knocking down conkers.” What? Totally uninformed, we ignore his

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For intro to the allotments, click here to see May 28 entry Tommy “Tucker”* Ramshaw, Tudhoe Village Allotments His mother died when he was 5. His father was the night soil man.** “We were poor,” he says, “We were so poor. You’ve no idea.” At 13, he got a job milking cows before dawn, before school. A year later he picked up night shift grooming horses and polishing harness of the horse-drawn

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Merci, Google! C’est génial! Vous méritez ma gratitude la plus profonde. What are the chances of finding a long-lost relative in Paris after my father journeyed there, followed a number of leads, and returned home disappointed? For as long as I can remember, Father spoke fondly of his first cousin, Madeleine. He had met her only once, in Paris, 1962. She was a teenager then. Her parents later

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I was 9 when The Sound of Music was released worldwide. On our small island of Cyprus, in my Armenian Elementary microcosm, it became the talk of the playground. Every spare moment was filled with its tunes. “The first three notes just happen to be...” Though I’d learned dó-ré-mí on the piano, my understanding of the English language was rudimentary. I didn’t know a female deer was called a

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Our neighbors of four years moved out last week. “How very DARE you!”* We feel left-behind. Not because Florent and Michael progressed to a brand-new 3-story house facing the woods, but because they don’t live next-door anymore. We miss the clacking sounds from their posh kitchen, the coffee grinder late Sunday mornings, regular karaoke nights which crescendoed into the wee hours of the

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Her name was Catherine. Her mother died when she was a baby. She had a brother, a father, but neither were eager to mind an infant. So newlyweds Benny and Annie Brown, the baby’s aunt and uncle, started a family, unplanned. “She was a bonnie lass,” says Benny, “She lived with us, and spent weekends with her father.” . . . Catherine loved to dance. After months of saving and a trip to Durham

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Fresh strawberries and ice cream. Heat on high. We happily ate our rare treat and remembered Florida, where we turned on the air conditioner to use the fireplace. Ridiculous, I know. We still wonder why they build fireplaces in Florida. For years we mocked the whole idea. One day we decided to try it for a laugh, turned on the air, struck the match and lit the log. Gadoo, our elderly cat,

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After a very dry Spring, the past ten days of Summer have seen nonstop rain. During that thirsty season, just before the rains came down and the floods came up, we bought a bird bath to entice more fowl into the back yard where both our office windows face. But none seem interested in a clean bath when muddy puddles abound. A week goes by. Not a single bird. Finally, an English sparrow shows up

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They exist in many English towns, allotments—small plots of land separated by fences, set aside for local people to grow plants. Usually located on council property with an accessible water supply, they rent for £20-£25 ($40-$50) a year. Allotments are primarily used for growing vegetables, but some choose to raise ducks and chickens, and several plots can be combined into horse

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His house is around the corner from the allotments,* not far from the hungry chickens, near the start of our daily walk. He sits opposite his living room window keeping one eye on the street and one on the telly. Eighty-four-year-old Benny is housebound by a stroke that stole his mobility but not his spirit. It’s quiet on his street, interrupted only by the occasional clucking of the

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Sunday, April 8, 2007, 5 a.m. President and Preacher, N.T. Wright, the Bishop of Durham . . . . . Since we are members of a congregation of nine, we are fortunate to experience this annual celebration of corporate worship “I’ve set the alarm for 2:45.” Ben’s last words hang in the dark as he falls asleep before I can protest. This has become our annual tradition, the only

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About this year’s Easter photo. It’s 3 days before Easter, mid-morning. I have no good ideas for our Easter e-greeting. I have a dozen free-range eggs from our local grocer, in the fridge, raw. The sun is shining pretty shadows through a sheer curtain in the hallway. I run for the camera. I lay out (sorry for the pun) my fragile collection on the hard stone floor—not a quick process without

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It was an ordinary grocery excursion at our friendly neighborhood ASDA; till muzak was interrupted by a smooth, alluring voice announcing a Valentines contest for “the most romantic couple.” Ha-ha, I thought, not us. I hurried home, wrote a few paragraphs, added some clip art, and on our next trip for milk and honey, secretly ushered it to the customer service desk, parking Ben in books and

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Wednesday February 7, 2007, 4:00 pm: Evensong at Durham Cathedral with the BBC Philharmonic and three choirs, broadcast live by the BBC to 250,000 listeners. We arrived one hour early. The Cathedral was already full. Programs were handed out. Stewards hastened to-and-fro. One was of particular interest. I shall call him James, for he passed so quickly his name tag was a blur. A tall, thin,

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Left, and above, are views of our living/dining room (otherwise known as sitting area and eating table). This state of insurgency began in Summer of 2006, when Ben O’When and his chief operative known simply as Apostle Paul moved South (downstairs) to occupy this space until talks resume to renegotiate a peace treaty with neighboring factions to evict at least one of the settlers. Sources say the

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We had no commitments after church and made none. We drove straight home, added layers of clothes, didn’t waste time for lunch since we had precious few daylight hours left (sunset @ 4:30). Instead we made hot chocolate and tea to-go. It was a gorgeous afternoon, but windy, and freezing cold. In February the sun has no obligation to shed warmth. We drove the scenic route, stopping once for sheep

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Hello. I know the world doesn’t need another blogger. (Discuss.) Will I like it? Does anyone care? Fortunately I’ll never know if you don’t return. But if you do, leave a note to let me know you were here.

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