My first night at the resurrected Lamb and Flag

 

A friend asked me along to the opening night on 6^th October 2022 and I said no – it will be too crowded. Then, irresolute as ever, I relented and went along, alone, at about 8.30pm. As expected it was heaving – but not uncomfortably so. The bar-less and unfurnished front room was pretty full and the noise level was, to my ears, near to the threshold of pain as alcohol fuelled conversations battled for acoustic supremacy. I pressed on towards the remaining bar with a nod of appreciation at the piano now gracing the east wall.

I stood for a while taking in the space where I had spent so many happy hours chatting or just drinking alone, sharing my thoughts with an ever-changing set of hand pumps and leafing through the latest Oxford Drinker, the CAMRA magazine. The space was the same, yet different. The interesting alcoves were either curtained over or missing, the ceiling was now lined with wooded planks, the bar surface was much wider, and the place was jam-packed with youngish, happy people. But there were two proud sets of hand pumps just as before and they were serving up interesting beers - as before. I settled for Rude Not To from Amwell Springs. It’s my sort of real ale at the moment: pale and a little tangy, but smooth and refreshing – I stuck to it which is unusual for me. The bar itself was a crush, but the people behind it were both pleasant and efficient and the ambience enjoyable, even though there are still renovations to be completed.

I spotted only one person that I knew, which surprised me. He was talking to one of the community group, The Inklings, that brought this place back to life. He turned out to be a newcomer to Oxford, and I shared memories of China with his wife, though the general hub-bub made conversation difficult for me. Finished the evening back in the now depleted front room talking to an interesting young man from Stroud who ran a bar at weekends and I thought, “great, this is how the Lamb and Flag should be: excellent ale, interesting company and a complete lack of that corporate feel so common to many city centre pubs”.

I doubt that the original Inklings could have tolerated the all encompassing sound level, but I am sure that Tolkien and Lewis would have appreciated the ale and congratulated the new Inklings on their rescue of this jewel of an Oxford pub. I congratulate the New Inklings on this resurrection – it would be Rude Not To.

 Take a look at my video of the pub made before the resurrection

A wedding, a book launch, and an invite to party

Having just celebrated my granddaughter’s wedding on our field in the Cotswolds, I would like to invite you to an upcoming party there which might, or might not, take place. But there is a condition.

I have just launched my latest book and it has been entered into the Amazon StoryTeller literary prize competition.  OK it’s extremely unlikely that I will win, after all the number of entries is immense and the prize equally so - a cool £20,000 - but if by some chance I do win, then you could come along to my celebratory party.

My book is a work of fiction and is a major departure for me: I am writing as a woman! I don’t mean that I have had a sex change, no, it’s simply that I am writing from a woman’s point of view and in the first person singular. I am, for this book only, Tracy. Here’s the blurb from the book.

Tracy’s adolescence is unpromising, but following her teenage years she plunges happily into the rewards and challenges of motherhood. Then, her offspring and spouse depart the nest plunging her into an emotional vacuum from which she dreams of escaping to a life in rural Spain. However, the reality of her days in that sun-soaked country rapidly descends into an extended darkening nightmare.

It is inspired by a true story and draws heavily on my own experiences in Spain over the past twenty years or so. One early reader told me that the graphic descriptions of rural Spain were so real that “I believed I was actually there and could almost smell the air”. That was encouraging.

It’s called That Place in the Sun. Clicking here will get you to more details on my website or here to go direct  to the Amazon page where it’s available in paperback or Kindle form. Have a look.

OK, but what about the party? Well, if you buy the book, in paper or digital form, it may well help me get through to the final line up of the Amazon competition and even gain that substantial prize. Just show me that you’ve purchased it and I’ll add you to the guest list. Do a review (good one preferably) and I’ll sit you at the top table!

I know, I know, the prize and the party are as likely as pigs flying – or less given the rapid advances in genetics. But you never know. What have you got to lose? Well, if I lose then there will be no party, but you will still have the book.

Please pass this invitation on – the more who come to this unlikely party the merrier it may be. 

I surrender: Mother Nature Wins

 

Visited our village in Spain for a short break recently. We did not take the motor caravan because the ferry to Sant Ander now costs over £1000 - another inflation-based decision. We flew by Ryanair and took buses plus a lift on the final leg from friends who live in La Fresneda.

This meant that I had to walk down to our huerto (large terraced garden and orchard): a distance of about 2 or 3 Km. The irrigation ditch had blocked and surged like a waterfall when I unblocked it which was a bit scary, but all well in the end and the casita that I built in the past seemed OK. However, the terraces below were completely overgrown and some of the fruit trees had died. The brambles are back with a vengeance and the main terrace is bursting with canes.

I did a bit of strimming then gave up. It is hopeless. The idea of having a garden in Spain was sort of romantic, but it’s not at all practical. The soil is rich and the weeds grow splendidly. Constant attention during the growing season is pretty much essential.

So, I will try to relax into the visitor that I actually am. I will try to stoically observe nature taking its course as it invades the three terraces that I gradually transformed into orchards and gardens. The automatic irrigation scheme that I devised over the years will block and dry up. The brambles will choke my fruit trees from below and the irrepressible fig trees will engulf them in impenetrable shade from above and the 70 olive trees down by the river will have a wild time. Hey-ho, life goes on and the experience did result in a book: Rolling Stones in Spain.

A project completed and a splendid day in Oxford

I have spent a great deal of time lately producing a video on CS Lewis’ Oxford, well in fact its a mini series of three covering his arrival at Oxford, his earlier years as a fellow and tutor and then his later years living at The Kiln. Here’s the link to part one.

I admired Lewis through his books long before I knew anything about him, and I admire him still and would have dearly loved to take a pint or two with him in the watering holes of Oxford.

Finishing a project like that is inevitably anticlimactic, but now the series is done I will return to a writing project that has been neglected for some time.

Meanwhile the entertainment scene in Oxford is good, though I think that the lockdown years have subtly and sometimes drastically changed the pub scene here (four of them are still closed, three belonging to colleges). Nevertheless I had a wonderful day following the launch of my CS Lewis series. A tour in the morning then an afternoon spent in Jericho sitting beside the canal appreciating live music from a tethered barge followed by pie and chips and a few pints in the nearby Victoria. All of that was capped by a wonderful open-mike evening of incredibly varied music at another local pub. If only you could cask a day like that, and tap it when needed.