Unwelcome Developments

Back in October 2016, I reported that there had been no decision on the outline planning application for the field behind my house. A repeat check a few months later showed that the outline planning application had been approved in November.

Very quietly, without consulting the residents here (because we are deemed non-adjacent to the proposed development), the outline planning turned into full planning approval this year. Having not seen or heard anything about it, it was something of an unpleasant surprise when I saw renewed activity on 6th December. Diggers were moving in, and work started in earnest the following day, which sent me looking for the planning documents. Everything was passed, with not so much as a reminder that the ecology report had recommended a hedgebank on the north side, now reduced to a 1.2 m (4 foot) fence.

The site plan looks very nice (with the exception of most of the rotary washing lines, located way too close to the sheds and compost bins in the tiny gardens!). I'm sure the housing association who is due to take these 'dwellings' will be delighted, as will the potential residents in need of affordable housing. The jackdaws, starlings and seagulls have been enjoying the freshly turned soil (barely visible as black and white specks in the picture below). This phase of development is supposed to go as far as the mounds of soil. The planning was changed so that the buildings closest to the bungalows on the upper right of the picture were to be bungalows. However, I don't blame the bungalow owners for selling up; their view will go from a landscape across fields north to the Preselis, to a housing estate close enough to spit at.

The few horses left in the adjacent fields don't seem too bothered at the moment. However, although I heard lapwings after dark on 1st December, I haven't seen any yet (they normally settle on a portion of the fields out of the above shot to the left/north. It could be that they might find the disturbance too much.

Oh [expletives deleted]. Goodbye, peace and quiet, horses grazing just beyond the fence and the lack of need for bedroom curtains. What a way to start the year!

Sliding Furniture Puzzle

Having guests to stay focuses the mind wonderfully on getting the house in order. Unfortunately, to do that, I have to move what feels like heaven and earth.

All of the furniture which ended up in the guest bedroom during the house move was put in the wrong place and then hemmed in with heavy boxes and trunks (including a box marked 'fragile' which was put on the bottom of a stack and now contains broken glass). I still don't have my bedroom sorted out to my satisfaction (it contains furniture which should be in the guest bedroom, but which they couldn't find space for, as some of the boxes in there belonged elsewhere), and the dining room is a mass of packed boxes and various chairs. The lounge is a mess of craft stash. There are even packed boxes and a worktop full of bits in the utility.

Add into the chaos finding that the shed has been leaking and the decorating kit boxes contained a few inches of water and a strange compost of slug/snail droppings and wet fluff from some rags which have been gnawed by a mouse hoping for a comfy bed. Then one of the cats threw up on my duvet, so not just the cover but the duvet itself needed cleaning. And the dishwasher stopped working.

And then the new mattresses arrived about 4 working days earlier than expected. (I've just seen a mail telling me the mattresses are on their way. Nope, they arrived two days ago! And another mail telling me that the old mattresses will be picked up next Wednesday, with a request to confirm the pick-up via a link which doesn't work.) I now cannot move for large, heavy boxes. There's no way I can get my double mattress up the stairs on my own, I'm going to have to plead for help from one of my neighbours.

It was a bit like this when I first moved, too. Like one of those sliding squares puzzles where you don't so much have an empty square as an empty half-square, and you have to be careful how you use it so as not to hem yourself in. Over time, the stacks in the lounge and kitchen disappeared, and some of the boxes in the dining room. I should have taken photos, some of the stacks were about 4 feet/1.2 metres high.
Just like the sliding squares puzzle, I have to accept that some of the pieces will have to move more than once before they're able to move into their final positions. Unlike the sliding squares puzzle, some pieces are rather larger than others, and so many smaller pieces will need to move to enable, for example, the single beds to go where they were originally intended.

And of course everything needs cleaning and I have a mountain of laundry too. The patio and garden are also a complete mess, as I haven't been out to sort out the growhouse and swingseat, damaged by the first storms of the season, let alone pick up scattered pots or any more digging and clearing. That's very low on the priority list at the moment!

Faced with this knotty problem, I've had to revert to project management planning to try to find the ends to pull, which squares to slide first. The task list is still very long and I have less than a week to go.

It will be great to have made a significant dent in the unpacking, cleaning and sorting, though I wonder if I shall ever attain my goal of having a clean and tidy house with a place for everything and everything in its place.

Time Lapse

My blogging has lapsed somewhat, largely replaced by doing. While the weather was good, I spent spare time out in the garden, (currently) marked by my last published post in August, although there are (quite) a few draft posts which get looked at and tweaked from time to time.

When at my desk, I'm invariably working, still editing the magnum opus which came my way at the start of the year. It's a fascinating book set in 1949 Ethiopia, but irritatingly wordy, with dialogue in five languages and occasional words in a further two. The typescript was an incredible mess of typographical, spelling and grammatical errors, which are gradually falling away under my relentless nit-picking. I keep reminding myself not to over-correct or change the writer's style, that it's not my job to fact check - but inevitably, I've picked up on some anachronisms which needed further research and discussion. It's still very long, the equivalent of five average-sized novels, so it's undecided yet whether this will be one novel or perhaps a series of three or more. I'm really enjoying the work (although the amount of work I'm doing is disproportionate to what I'll eventually be paid!) and loving the way my relationship with the author is developing. I am learning so much about language and editing, and more than I ever imagined I wanted to know about Ethiopia!

I have also received a PhD thesis to proof-read, started earlier this year and now in its final stages. I've also quoted for another. Both have been affected by the supervisors' requests for rewrites. I've previously seen this 'you get it ready to publish, then I'll make suggestions for changes', which has the potential to become a soul-destroying, endless loop of draft versions and self-questioning - am I/is my work good enough yet? The answer, at least in my opinion for the thesis I'm working on, is 'this is awesome and you are utterly amazing!', but I guess the rarefied heights of academia have a more jaded and demanding attitude.

A combination of changeable weather and the conflict of what else I 'should' be doing has largely kept me out of the garden. The days flicker by and only time will reveal the cumulative effects of barely perceptible daily changes, like the comparison of first and last drafts, or the start and end of a time-lapse film. 

Class Plans

Planning classes is a difficult thing! Schemes of work and lesson plans aside, for part-time, 'leisure' classes in the current economic climate, finding or creating demand is key, achievable by tapping into the right demographic groups (whatever they might be). Then it's a matter of finding a venue which is available when you want it, at a reasonable price and then matching location, venue, day and time to the prospective students' availability (especially in low population areas such as this one). Without this, even free workshops won't necessarily attract attendees.

My class numbers are so low that I effectively have no class running at the moment. Even through adult ed, where the classes are charged in blocks of 10 and are really, really cheap, especially for those who get concessions, and still people will not commit or pay up front. (Some really can't - however cheap, it's difficult to find £30 or £40 in one go if you're on jobseekers allowance. However, some will still pay the equivalent of their concession-rate class to Costa coffee every week, grrr! But it illustrates that although many will cite cost as an issue, it really isn't about the money.)

After letting my classes stagger on until I was effectively paying for my teaching practice and the social contact with the couple of dancers who would come regularly, I've had to stop classes. There's no competition from other belly dance classes here, and it's not just belly dance classes which are closing. Only a fraction of adult ed classes are running, despite being extremely cheap and offering payment plans to take the sting out of paying in 10 week blocks. The main issues seem to be the perception of how much things do and should cost, and personal priorities. It's been noticeably harder since 2008. From the prospective (dance) student's point of view, prioritising time and money is a difficult thing for most, especially when weighed against the needs and wants of the rest of the family. Many people here are on very low incomes, suffering from health issues, have other responsibilities which take their time and energy (shift working, caring, parenting), and however much we think adults are in control of their lives, shit happens. There are a million and one other reasons why a dance class is low on the list of priorities. Some just don't want to be tied to a regular commitment (even if only for a few weeks) or are just apathetic or complacent (thinking that a class will still be there for when they feel like it, and if it's not, oh well!).

Having dropped in to other exercise-based classes, I've seen that many students want their leisure activities to be social and not feel like hard work. This can be tricky. It's good for beginners to join an existing, stable class, with enough people that they can be anonymous at the back, preferably in the company of a friend. But they are easily put off if most of the others in the class are no longer absolute beginners. There is a safety in being able to hide in a group who are all following the bouncing butt in front of them, being carried away by the music, without having to think or remember, and without being corrected.

Enquirers often don't turn into students for reasons which can be very difficult to discover (cold feet? but their lack of engagement often results in a lack of response).

I'm going to carry on trying, if only because other good, experienced teachers are having the same problems, so I can reassure myself it's not because I'm a crap teacher. Trying to stay positive that things will change is hard though, and because I'm scarcely earning anything, I'm having a hard time getting to haflas and keeping up my CPD. It's a vicious circle!
 
So I've kept the venue booking at Bloomfield House in Narberth, not least because the staff and welcome there are fantastic, and introduced a 'class card' of a block of (semi-transferable) classes at a reduced rate (upfront payment and some motivation) and a drop-in rate (for the occasionals) and created posters and flyers to advertise it, as well as social media and other online outlets.

So much work, all unpaid, and I must admit that it's because I love it so much that I do a lot of it 'for love'. My most committed dancer/student is using this to make improvements in her mental health and some challenging physical issues. She's been at this for about 3 years now, and managed a hip shimmy last night without moving her arms and shoulders for the first time. I almost cried with happiness.

If you're reading this and thinking about going to a belly dance class, but fear you have no coordination and just 'can't dance', remember - everyone is different. So it might take you a while to learn to shimmy, or you might get it first time. You'll never know unless you try, and it's never too late to start!

Joon Dance 'Wild' Summer School 2017

I missed the Gather project in the spring, partly because I was seriously concerned that I would not be able to cope with dance movement on uneven surfaces (something I've been told seriously to avoid by the consultant and physiotherapist when my severe osteoarthritis was diagnosed). One of the locations was Newgale beach, and the last time I went there, I had problems for a few days afterwards, as getting down to the beach involves scaling a pebble bank. Difficult surfaces aside, I might still have gone for it, but a back injury put paid to that!
Having sorted my back out, I was determined not to miss Summer School.
Then, I was so wrapped up in editing work and preparations for this year's Cardigan Belly Dance Festival that I entirely forgot to register for it until the middle of the previous week.
When I got in touch, I found there were only two other adults registered, and I could do a sort of abridged version, without the break dance (which I was glad of, fearing it would break me!), and would be absorbed into the 'youth' group, as there were enough teenagers this year to create a 'junior' group as well as the 'Joon bugs' (little ones).

I'd already met and danced with the other two 'adults' and it was great to be with them again. I'd also met and danced with a couple of the 'youth' dancers and I was struck by how they had improved and grown as dancers.

The week started with the customary welcome by Zosia in the Torch Studio Theatre, where she introduced the teachers and reminded all that we were creating a supportive, friendly group. For our 'youth' group, Zosia would be leading an hour's contemporary class, followed by break dance with Dan Martin and topped by an hour's creative dance with the lovely Eeva-Maria Mutka, whom I already knew through her somatics workshops. After checking with Dan that he'd be okay with his class being watched, (which he was) we were off and into contemporary class.

It's been a few years since I've done a class, but I found myself immediately in the zone, concentrating on the exercise mark-through, dancing the exercise through, feeling for correct alignment and placement. Things went reasonably well until the floor work, when even using my hands underneath me didn't prevent me catching and banging bits of body and it hurt. I would have been interested to try the floor exercise in very slow time, seeking adjustments, but the main issue is that most of it only works if you can get down and up from the floor easily and if you can pretty much bend over and place your hands flat. My bad knees and bulky tummy create limitations and I felt annoyed and frustrated at my lack of ability, remembering a time when I found it easy. I need to do more rolling around. I vowed to myself that by summer school next year, I shall have sorted out my tight hip flexors and shall once more be able to sit in jazz 4th position.

I reflected that this wouldn't be a class for someone who had never done contemporary class. Had there been a group of adult beginners, I am sure Zosia would have organised things differently. And although teenage girls can be the worlds' worst bitches, these dancers were so lovely. In classes later in the week, I found they had a maturity and assertiveness which made them an absolute joy to work with, not to mention their dance skills. I know Zosia is very proud, having seen how they've improved over the years. Their parents should be very proud too. They were wonderful!

As last year, I found myself admiring the way in which Zosia had organised the teaching groups and the three available spaces (gallery, stage and dance studio). We were a bit cramped in the gallery, but it wasn't a problem. There was also an exhibition of Roy Campbell-Moore's photos of some of Zosia's recent work, which created a very inspiring atmosphere.

We finished the week with a performance on the Friday night, which didn't go as smoothly for me as I'd have wished, but it was fine. I had a sort of crown of twigs and foliage to put on at one point, and I elected to leave it just offstage in the dressing room, rather than risk it being trampled in the rush offstage from the previous piece. But in the dressing room, it got sat on, moved, and the path to it was blocked by dancers, which unexpectedly threw me when it came to the subsequent cues, but I don't suppose anyone noticed really. And I rather enjoyed being a dumpy little earth goddess wearing a bird's nest crown.

The 'grown-ups' snapped at dress rehearsal. Photo credit: Meriel Paget/Zosia Jo

Links (current at the time of writing):
Zosia Jo: https://www.zosiajo.com/
Joon Dance: http://joondance.wixsite.com/joondance
Eeva-Maria Mutka, Penpynfarch studio: http://www.penpynfarch.co.uk/index
Dan Martin: https://www.danmartinmedia.co.uk/
Roy Cambell-Moore:  http://www.campbell-moore.co.uk/
Torch Theatre, Milford Haven: https://www.torchtheatre.co.uk/

OUCH! WTH?

Trigger warning! If insects and creepy-crawlies bring on an attack of the screaming ab-dabs, you might not want to read on ....

About 3 o'clock last Sunday morning, I was rudely awoken by being stung on the inside of my right forearm! Swearing loudly (I do find it helps in such situations; hopefully not loudly enough for my next-door neighbours to hear!), I quickly flicked on the bedside light, expecting to find a social wasp and keen to deal with it before it could sting me again. I found it was actually an ichneumonid, which rapidly left my forearm and flew off to hide. I didn't think these could sting!

My arm grew a red, burning, stinging lump the size of a pound coin before my eyes.  I couldn't see where the wasp had gone, and my throbbing arm disrupted my sleep for a couple of hours, until the antihistamine and Tiger Balm kicked in, reducing the unpleasant effects. I slept in late; the cats sensed something was up, and were very cuddly and purry, one on either side of me, comforting and protecting.

Ichneumonids are parasitic wasps (or more accurately, parasitoid, as they kill their hosts). They come to light and are often a nuisance while moth recording. I've also seen some of the day-flying ones in the garden, and was meaning to look them up, even if only to roughly genus level. There are apparently around 2500 species in the UK and they can be really difficult to separate, even with a microscope.

I looked up whether stings from the likely suspects (genera Ophion and Netelia) were known and there seemed to be some divided opinion on wildlife and gardening discussion groups. A few people said they'd been stung, and a number of other people replied that ichneumonids don't sting. Some sources state that the females can and do use their ovipositors as a sting in defence, although they don't have the poison sacs that social wasps have. Others have had Ophion sting them without provocation and noted that it was quite painful and caused inflammation, more than they'd expect from a quick jab. It seems reasonable to think that they can inject some sort of irritant, as they immobilise their intended host with it. Perhaps I'd trapped her under my forearm. Either that, or I smell like a caterpillar and she tried to lay an egg .... Ugh!

By Sunday night, the red bump was 3 cm in diameter and intensely itchy. As soon as I switched on the bedroom light, the wasp flew out from the lampshade. Considering how chaotic the house is, I was amazed I could find my bug box easily. The wasp was also easy to catch.

Monday, very grey daylight (call this summer? I'm in long sleeves and not impressed!); armed with the Natural History Museum's Beginners Guide to Identifying British Ichneumonids, I sat down to take a closer look at the offending insect.

The offending insect - Ophion luteus or similar

Using the lens on the top of the bug box I could see she was approximately 20 mm long, Orange body and antenna, no black or cream markings on the body and a distinct yellow line behind the eyes. From the wing venation, the closest I could get was Ophion luteus or one of the similar Ophion species.

Satisfied that I wouldn't get any closer than that, and noticing that the red bump was now in the centre of an inflamed area 7 cm in diameter, I emptied the bug box unceremoniously out of the bedroom window.

With a loud 'snick', a sparrow who'd been perching in the privet flew out and caught the wasp as she started to fly away. It felt like a sort of natural justice had been done.


Postscript: A week later, the swelling and inflammation has gone down, although there is still a pink bump. There has been one of these in the bedroom every night except last night, when there was an Ophion minutus or similar specie and then two of the larger ones. I got very fed up of catching and ejecting them, so last night I took a fly swat to the Ophion luteus (?). The first one took some beating; so I took the head off the second one and even then, it kept curling its body as if trying to 'sting' the fly swat.
No more Ms Insect-Tolerant Nice Lady as far as these are concerned.

Garden Goodies

Despite the ravaging hordes of slugs and snails (not to mention flea beetle and various caterpillars), the garden is producing food.

The few cloves of garlic I planted have made small bulbs and are ready to dig up. I became ridiculously excited over the small squashes appearing on the butternut plants and I've had to remind myself not to get my hopes up. There's a ripe chilli on one of the (bought-in) chilli plants and some tomatoes which are still green and struggling to ripen.
The courgettes are proving irresistible to the marauders, but I've managed to get a couple of small ones. There are still a few broad beans to be had, the runner and French beans have started producing succulent pods, and the peas have started to produce enough ready pods that I can pick a handful for the kitchen, probably thanks to the amount of rain we've had recently. I harvested the few carrots which escaped the gluttonous molluscs. And although one block of the sweet peas seems reluctant to flower, the 'Cupani' plants are doing okay and I've been picking some every few days to enjoy their luscious scent in the kitchen.

The bounty has given rise to my new favourite thing, a sort of pasta-with-whatever vegetables happen to be ready. This started the day I harvested the carrots. They hadn't made much growth, and there were only a handful. I also picked over the peas, beans, sweet peas and found a small yellow courgette.
I podded the broad beans, topped, tailed and sliced the runner and some of the French beans, washed and sliced the carrots and added them all to some pasta which had already had some minutes in boiling water.
In a frying pan with a little olive oil, I cooked some sliced onion and the sliced courgette, then podded the peas and added them to the pasta pan. When the pasta was done, I drained it and the veg, added the onion and courgette to the main pan and stirred in a heaped spoonful of garlic and herb soft cheese until it melted and coated the contents. So easy and delicious.

Of course it would be possible to do this with shop bought veg, and it would be great for using up other bits and pieces; half a pepper and a few mushrooms lying around in the fridge? Bung them in! Pesto instead of soft cheese? Why not?

But the flavour of the carrots was amazing, the beans so juicy, the peas so sweet, and the knowledge that I had prepared the soil and grown these from seed made the whole thing utterly satisfying. I know Monty Don waxes lyrical about this regularly on Gardener's World, but he is absolutely right. There's nothing like goodies from your own garden to make you feel that life is wonderful, even if the weather isn't.