Wednesday 30 December 2009

The Hawking Centre

2009 is nearly out the door. But unlike T.S Eliot's famed aphorism, I'm finding that the year is not ending with a whimper but with a resounding bang!

Amidst the flurry of christmas, good friends, indulgence and volunteer work with Crisis, I managed to spirit my husband away for a day at The Hawking Centre at Leeds castle. Birds of prey have fascinated him since he was a wee lad and I thought it was high time he actually came into a contact with a few as opposed to watching CGI-ed clips on Youtube.

The Hawking Centre is run by Leigh and Jo Holmes and managed by Mark Brattle. Mark was our guide for the day and his passion for falconry was clear from the moment he picked us up at the train station right through to the days end.

After a warming cup of coffee our small group ventured out into the rain whereby Mark showed us the picturesque grounds and introduced us to the birds of the centre. We met owls, buzzards, falcons, eagles, hawks, vultures and kestrels; Mark giving us a small history of each bird and their hunting abilities. Meeting a peregrine falcon, the fastest creature on earth was pretty special as it seemed so small and unassuming despite its inherent powers. I was also impressed by the tiny kestrels who I learned can see in ultra violet so as to track mice urine from the air. But it was the owls that stole my heart and not even the brutal truth as told by Mark that they are very stupid birds could dissuade my affections.

                                                   Barney being weighed by Mark pre-flight

Soon enough it was coffee down and gloves on. Mark started us off by flying Barney, their adorable and very vocal white barn owl. Initially apprehensive I watched as Barney swooped towards me and landed light as a feather on my hand. Magic.

From there Mark progressed us onto Ozzie, an African eagle owl with golden eyes and propensity to waddle towards us rather than fly.
                                                       Ozzie in all his imperious glory

Maggie the vulture was next. Her temper was apparent as she repeatedly bit Mark's hand as he weighed her. Maggie was in no real mood for flying and after a few attempts she flew herself back to the aviary and waited for Mark to take her inside. I must admit I didn't blame her. Why should she have to fly around in the cold and wet just for the amusement of a few humans?


                                          Maggie deigning to alight before she flew back home

Next was Brock, a Harris Hawk who gave us a real sense of how swift, sharp and acute birds of prey are. He alighted on our hands within seconds of being called, silently and with little warning. We went for a long walk with Brock around the grounds, he following us from tree-to-tree as he would do in a hunt and being called in by one of us every few minutes.

                                                                   Brock, hanging out.

Our day ended here due to the weather and safety. To progress onto the faster, bigger birds would have required more training and better weather.

Being a city dweller can dampen your senses and cloud your vision. A day out in the wild weather in green Kent in the company of birds of prey was just the antidote needed to see the year to a harmonious close.

So it's farewell to 2009 with a hearty bang. Not that of a firecracker or a drum, but the sound of a peregrine falcon hitting its prey at 180mph.

To end the year, here's a quote from Frances McDormand as Elaine Miller in Amost Famous:

I didn't ask for this role, but I'll play it. Now go do your best. Be bold, and mighty forces will come to your aid

Happy New Year!.

Tuesday 8 December 2009

Rigby & Peller

Many years ago I heard on the grapevine that Rigby & Peller was the place du jour to go in London if you wanted to be fitted properly for a bra. To get an idea of where they stand in the world of corsetry, they hold a Royal Warrant of Appointment which in plain language means that they are the official supplier to the Royal Family. Their fittings are free and you can either book an appointment in advance or simply walk in off the street and wait for a fitter to become available.

I have never been a fan of bras. I’ve always found them uncomfortable and restrictive but maybe that’s because I’ve never worn the correct size. For many women it’s not something that comes as a given when we choose our first off–the-rack bra at K-mart. As the years go by, many of us (you know who you are) just guess at our bra size as our bodies change with age.


Well enough was enough. If I had to wear the stupid things, it was time to find out what size I should wear. Anyone that’s handled the Queens’ bazookas is good enough for mine so last week I went along to the Conduit Street branch of Rigby & Peller for a walk-in fitting. Luckily there was no wait. I was ushered quickly into the changing rooms and told to strip off. After a quick glance at the goods, my fitter briefly popped out of the cubicle before returning with two bras for me to try on.

Don’t you have to measure me with a tape first?, I asked

She laughed in a way suggesting I was an imbecile.

We don’t need to use tapes, she poohed-poohed. We can tell.

And sure enough she could. Although slightly different sizes, both bras fitted me well.

How can I be two sizes?, I queried.

Which size you wear will depend on the manufacturer
, she told me. So you should always try it on before you buy.

The da-da-da moment came as she told me what size bras I had just tried on. I was shocked. They were nowhere in the ballpark of what I had been wearing for the past EIGHTEEN years.

Happens all the time
, she said. You should get yourself measured every 6-8 months actually.

Well I never. Ladies, do yourselves a favour and get fitted. It’s a whole new world upfront

Tuesday 1 December 2009

'Tis the Silly Season

Since I moved to London, I’ve come to experience the months leading up to Christmas as being high pitched and action packed. In anticipation of the holidays and perhaps in an effort to stave off the dark gloom of winter, the sheer amount of social and cultural activities for everyone seem to quadruple as does the desire to attend every single thing possible. It’s a marathon few months run at break neck pace. By Christmas, we are all exhausted and fall down post Xmas in a crumpled, sodden heap.

The lead up this year has been no exception, crammed full with catch-ups with friends, parties and shows galore. London at any time offers a veritable feast of rich pickings and in the last few weeks I’ve been to several shows. Here is a snapshot of each:

Michael Clarke Company

With Kate Moss as a patron, Michael Clarke Company is well situated in positing itself as the cool, hip kid on the block of contemporary dance. Presenting a revival of his 1986 classic, Swamp, together with a medley of pieces set to music by Iggy Pop, Lou Reed and David Bowie, Clarke had his unitard clad dancers performing gymnastic, Cunningham-influenced choreography that reminded me of moves executed by the Chinese gymnasts in Cirque du Soleil. Clarke’s ascetic, constrained style may appeal to some but I prefer my dancers with a little more expression even if it means a little less épaulement.



The Blind Boys from Alabama


I have always wanted to attend a Gospel revival and on a cold, winter’s night at the Barbican, I got my wish. The Blind Boys bounced onstage in their sharp white suits and showed us the meaning of puttin’ on a show. Slightly diminished in number (one had died the week before and another had been waylaid in transit), they nonetheless raised the roof with their rich, booming voices which resulted in a concert unlike no other. By the end the entire, and I mean entire audience were on its feet dancing, shouting, clapping, hooting and singing. If I could've bottled the atmosphere there that night, I think I would have captured the essence of joy. Eau de Joy courtesy of the Bad Boys. Hallelujah Amen!

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

When the husband told me that we had tickets to go see Tennessee Williams’ classic play, I wasn’t sold. Unlike him I am not a sci-fi geek so the thought of James Earl Jones (voice of Darth Vader) starring as Big Daddy did not make my head turn. But there are worse ways to spend a Friday night so I went along. The minute the Big Man strolled onstage in Scene Two, a quicker reversal of opinion you never saw. His rich, mellifluous voice delivered line after gorgeous line which combined with a dynamite stage presence and solid, assured acting held me in thrall. Mid scene his stage prowess was in full flight; tearing up the boards and eating Adrian Lester for breakfast. His relative absence in Scene Three left a huge belly-shaped hole in the acting which made me want to shout out, Come back Daddy Darth! Show these youngsters how it’s done! James Earls Jones. The man’s got acting in his bones.



Susie Orbach and Marin Alsop

My friend Cassandra and I went along to Southbank last night to hear Susie Orbach and Marin Alsop talk about women in leadership. In 2007 Marin was appointed director of the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra and was the first woman to be appointed as such in America. Susie is a psychoanalyst, lecturer and well–known author, with the phenomenal anti-dieting treatiseFat is a Feminist Issue under her belt as well as the more recent, Bodies. She is also the co-originator of the Dove Campaign for Real Beauty and convenor of the website AnyBody. To cap it off, Shami Chakrabarti, director of the human rights organisation, Liberty chaired the event. In the presence of such luminaries we expected interesting discussion and we were not disappointed. Marin spoke about the complexities of being in a leadership role where she found herself a female role model simply because of the sheer lack of any others in her field. Susie was more keen to examine the psycho-social reasons why women still do not 100% feel they can grab hold of the brass ring. And that when they do, why their leadership style has to emulate that of men to be deemed as “real” leadership. After all, she said, Women have been leaders for centuries as guardians of the home but that intimate, complex style of leadership is not regarded as valid. Why? The night ended far too soon and we walked out, our heads filled with questions and a brightness of purpose that being inspired will do to you.

They say there is no rest for the wicked and that's true in my case as the week ahead brings me to see the sexy man of dance Carlos Acosta showcasing Apollo & Other Works at Sadlers Wells and also to hear the great Ranulph Fiennes, explorer extraordinaire talking about his adventures at the Royal Geographic Society.

I'm knackered but I can't wait.