Went to the Tewkesbury Medieval Festival yesterday to celebrate the Battle of Tewkesbury.  Even though it’s not far from where I live, I hardly ever go to Tewkesbury and had never been to the festival before, but was looking on the interweb a few weeks ago, for things to do with Deigo and up this popped.

We dragged my buddy, Emma along with us and had a lovely day. Emma was picked from the audience at one point to play in the band for the Fire~eater. This basically comprised of Emma and a couple of others playing on recorders and tin whistles.  The noise was shocking but the comedy value was priceless. The Fire Eater was great too, very funny and I managed to get this wonderful shot, which I have pimped all over the place.

There were so many wonderful and interesting stalls selling everything and anything. As well as a circus tricks guy there who let everyone have a go on the apparatus. B was fantastic on the Diablo, which I had fun with too, but I preferred something which was basically, 3 sticks. I had to balance the one stick between the other two, then flip it about.  I’m not really good with the describing~ness, so shall leave it there.

The day ended with a recreation of the Battle, but I didn’t get to see any of it as by this point my pelvis had decided to give up, so I went and sat at the back of the field while Emma and B elbowed their way through to the front of the crowd and managed to watch the soldiers.

It was a brilliant day, the weather held out and even got rather warm at some points, and the rain began as we were walking back to the car.

I really love living in England and being surrounded by so much history.

Dad…so many images come to mind
whenever I speak your name;
It seems without you in my life
things have never been the same.

What happened to those lazy days
when I was just a child;
When my life was consumed in you
in your love, and in your smile.

What happened to all those times
when I always looked to you;
No matter what happened in my life
you could make my gray skies blue.

Dad, some days I hear your voice
and turn to see your face;
Yet in my turning…it seems
the sound has been erased.

Dad, who will I turn to for answers
when life does not make sense;
Who will be there to hold me close
when the pieces just don’t fit.

Oh, Dad, if I could turn back time
and once more hear your voice;
I’d tell you that out of all the dads
you would still be my choice.

Please always know I love you
and no one can take your place;
Years may come and go
but your memory will never be erased.

Today, Jesus, as You are listening
in your home above;
Would you go and find my dad
and give him all my love.

By Leah Wells

So, last Saturday I travelled up to Manchester for a forum meet. The lovely Karen had very kindly invited those of us who wanted to attend to her home for a BBQ.  Something that you would never catch me doing.

Unfortunutley the weather sucked so the Barbie was moved indoors, but since Karen has a huge house, and Karaoke in her conservatory, this wasn’t too much of a problem.

I’m not sure how many people turned up, but I’m guessing about 12 ~ 15, many of us had already met before, one way or another.

Lots of fun was had. Lovely food was eaten and a shocking ammount of alcohol was drank. I did want to get a lovely big group photo of us all before we got too drunk or before anyone began to slink off, but I forgot. I got carried away chatting, eating, singing and drinking.

But this photo is one of my favourites. It was snapped while the girls in question were singing “My heart will go on” and about 5 seconds before the blonde at the top of the photo fell off the basket into a giggling heap in the corner.  I should have taken a photo of her on the floor, but I was thankfully filming it on my cameraphone ~ so it all worked out.

I was very sensible though and hardly drank at all. Well, that’s not strictly true. I did have two pints of Tia Maria and Coke, but I spent so long chatting to everyone that everytime I started to get tiddly I would soon sober up.

I also got to have my first taste of a Krispy Kreme doughnut. I had mentioned to Tatty a week or so earlier that I’d never had one, and she very kindly bought a load before the left London.  I’m not really big on sweet things, but they were really lovely.

All in all, a lovely time was had and on Saturday I’m out on the razz again. But this time for a very different reason.

Shan’t Can’t say anything about it right now, as I can’t afford for the surprise to be let out of the bag, but I can’t wait.

M was working today. Somewhere miles away. He did tell me where, but, you know, I either forgot or didn’t listen. You can decide which.

I recalled seeing something, somewhere advertising the fact that the Tall Ships Festival was back on at the Gloucester Docks, so B and I hopped in the car and drove off. Made even better by the fact that it was a gorgeously hot day, which always helps when you’re going to be hanging around docks.

Today though was amazing. B and I both had a wonderful time. We did loads. When we first arrived at the Docks, we looked over the railings and saw three little boats in the water. In two of the boats were “convicts” rowing for their lives, and in the final boat were “guards” who were rowing like nutters trying to catch up with the convicts. It was so funny to watch.

For the past couple of weeks there has also been a kind of “Gloucester Eye” type thing there. Last time we were there it was a horrid windly overcast kind of day and I promised B that we’d go on it when the weather was a little better. Today, the weather was perfect, so off we went for a spin around the Gloucester Eye.

It was actually better than I had expected and we went around three times, the first time was really slow and gave you a really good chance of looking all around and taking in the view. Including the Cathedral which looked lovely with the gorgeous blue sky behind.

We then went into the city centre where the festival spirit continued. There were peasants wandering all over the place, as well as people dressed up as Tudors (we saw Henry VIII and one of his wives) and soldiers in their Red Coats marching all over the place as well as other soldiers.

Ever since I  was a little girl, there has been a huge glass viewing platform “thing” outside Boots. You look down through the glass to some Roman Ruins that were excavated in the 1970’s.   Just to the right hand side of Boots, there is a little door which leads down into the actual ruins. But I’ve never seen it open to the public. But today, B spotted a Roman Centurian standing guard outside the door. The door, which was open!

B and I couldn’t get across to it fast enough.  We went down the stairs, which was fantastic as it was lovely to be out of the scorching heat, and took a seat and listened to a lady, who was dressed up in olden days clothes, tell us olde worlde stories and tales. This in itself was wonderful, but once the lady had finished telling her stories (we heard three) a man who had been sat at the back, stood up and announced that he was about to give a guided tour of Roman Gloucester.

There were 5 of us who took up this man’s very kind offer and he took us around the 2 “gate” streets of Gloucester, telling us stories, facts and pointing out all kinds of things that I must have walked past hundreds of times and never given a second thought to. The tour lasted about 45 minutes and was fascinating. Even B, who hasn’t the greatest attention span in the world, was rivetted and hung on the guide’s every word. After the tour, I decided to treat B to a Happy Meal which we took to the Cathedral grounds to eat, picnic stylee.

This was an event in itself as loads of soldiers and civilians had set up camp in the grounds. There were campfires burning, a blacksmith giving a demonstration on how to make swords and daggers and B and I sat in the middle of both camps, keeping it real by munching on a McDonalds. Honestly, this was a fantastic day and I can’t wait for the Tall Ships Festival next year.

Where has the time gone? Already it’s time for the Cheese Rolling?  Again?  This wonderfully weird event actually takes place on the hill behind our house.  Not so close that we run the risk of a cheese landing in the garden, but still close enough to be able to watch from the comfort of our home and hear the cheers of the crowd.

This year though, the three of us trundled up there.  The weather yesterday was fantastic. Seriously, it must have been the hottest day of the year so far, and that makes a huge difference when you’re trying to climb the lanes that lead to Coopers Hill.

But, it also meant that the crowds came out in some style. There were thousands up there. Far too many.  I think we only watched two races before moving off the actual hill. It was just too crowded, almost dangerous really.

As we were trying to  leave, somebody had been injured in the previous race so the security on the hill were not allowing anybody on or off the hill until the St. John’s Ambulance peeps had managed to get on the hill, get the casualty on to the spinal board, and carted off to hospital. All fair and good until you get the Italians (who don’t understand the wonderful British concept of queueing) trying to elbow their way through, not giving a flying fuck if they trample a load of kids on the way!

Somehow though, M managed to get through. Off the hill, leaving B and I behind. But once he turned around, saw the crowd and the amount of people trying to push through he came back to collect B.  The security guard wouldn’t let B through though, until M grabbed his hand and made him duck under the guards arm.

Once I got out (about 10 minutes later) we nipped to the Ice Cream van and wandered off home through the fields.

This Bank Holiday, though was also our Wedding Anniversary.  Almost right up until the last moment there was the chance that M would have been working it. Especially since he’s only just gone back to work following his accident. He was off for 3 weeks, and he normally gets shit loads of overtime too.

But this year and this BH, he was off, and since it was our 10th anniversary, I think I could be forgiven for being pleased that he didn’t have to go to work.

May the Forth be with you.

And to celebrate, here’s a picture of my first love.

Yesterday we went to London Zoo. Of course, because of M’s knackered knee I was the driver, and this time M managed to behave himself and wasn’t too much of a bad passenger.

I don’t know what it is about Giraffe’s that I love so much, but I could watch them all day.  They’re so graceful, despite being so tall.

Toucan’s just remind me of my Dad. After thinking about it, I think this is because Dad used to drink Guiness every now and again and there used to be a Toucan advertising Guiness when I was a kid.

This little Otter was such a friendly little lady.  She would keep going up on her hind legs to get a good look at M and then she led in the dirt, grabbed a little pebble and just tossed it from one paw to the other.

Tigers! What can I say. So huge, so furry and look at those paws!

And of course a pawpad.

A Love Story Written In The Stars

Words cannot describe how much I love this film and how much it means to me.

Faith (our Heroine) is given a name by a Ouija Board when she is 11 after she has asked it who she is going to marry. A few days later, she goes to a fair and a Fortune Teller there tells her the exact same name. That name being Damon Bradley.

Fast forward fourteen years and we’re just ten days away from Faith’s wedding ~ to a man, who is definatley NOT right for her and Faith answers the phone and takes a message from Damon Bradley!

Along with her best friend, who also happens to be her Sister~in~Law, they hop on the next available plane to follow Damon to Venice and then Rome.  They follow Damon from hotels, to restaurants but never manage to get quite close enough to meet him.

AFter Faith looses a shoe whilst chasing a figure who she believes to be Damon, she seems almost ready to give up all hope of actually meeting Damon, when a handsome stranger who just happened to pick up the shoe that lost (how very Cinderella) informs her that he is, in fact, Damon Bradley.

I really don’t want to spoil the film anymore for those of you who haven’t seen it and might actually go and rent it, based on my love of the film, so I shall say no more, but seriously, this is my favourite film in the world and I just can’t recommend it enough.

Plus, there are actually two love stories in this film, and I think that the result for both of them is just perfect.

One of my very favourite lines from the film comes from Peter.. . and you’re going to have to watch the film if you want to know who he is.

Peter: This guy, by the way, could be the biggest loser who ever walked the face of the earth. He could be a grump, a jerk, a pervert, a cynic, a man who’s mind is infested with dark thoughts, he could be a criminal… he could be… truly sick.

Plus, you have to watch the film, just to see the beautiful red dress and shoes that Faith is wearing on the evening that she meets Damon.   I’ve been searching for that dress for over ten years, and still haven’t found it.

Taken from Wiki: McDojo is a pejorative term used by some Western martial artists to describe a martial arts school where image or profit is of a higher importance than technical standards, and in the related use of martial arts franchising.

I read this post of Black Belt Mama’s a while ago which got me to thinking of all of the different ways that people look at their Martial Arts progress.

For me, it’s a way of feeling more secure and safe in the knowledge that I have at least a little bit of self defence.  Of course, I love going up through the different belts and the satisfaction of passing a grading and knowing that I did good.  But I’m also in no real hurry to get that Black Belt.  I know that I have a loooong way to go and a million things still to learn before I get there  ~ and to be honest, I’m looking forward to learning them.

One of my sisters however, I feel, has a different attitude.  And she doesn’t even train. It’s her kids who are members of what I laughingly refer to as a McDojo.  Not to her of course.  We have got to the point now where we’ve argued about the place that her kids go to, so much, that we’ve agreed to disagree. Her children, range from 15 down to 2 (ish) and the ones that are training are shooting through their belts at an alarming rate.  The older one’s didn’t start training until at least 7 months after me, and yet two of them are preparing for their Black Belts already.

We are training in two different styles of Karate ~ they don’t have to learn Kata and from the sounds of things, don’t practice Kumite at all ~ but stil!

Oh and did I mention that they advertise that YOU WILL HAVE A BLACK BELT WITHIN TWO YEARS.

WTF? How can they say that?  What if you’re not good enough for that belt? In fact, there are hundreds of “What if’s” that I could add there, but why waste my time.  That’s just the way they do business I suppose.

The thing is though, that when we were looking into Karate Schools for B, that was the first place that we went.

B and I were walking through Gloucester about a week after M and I had started discussing finding a club for B, when a couple of the students pounced on us.  That’s what they do, you see.  They stand around in their tracky suits in the main towns locally pouncing on people.

Anyhoo, they pounced on B and I as we were strolling through the shopping centre and we stopped. I gave them my phone number and a day or so later they phoned to arrange B’s free trial.

The 3 of us trotted off there and it was lovely. So plush and shiny.  Sprung flooring on the Dojo, a lovely viewing area for the parents to sit and watch the kids training and lovely friendly staff ~ even if they did go a little over the top (in my opinion) on the respect front.

As it turns out, the Sensei who was supposed to be giving B his free lesson, was running late and we ended up with his wife. Who I felt uncomfortable with from the start.   Obviously we were told almost immediately that B was a natural at Karate (insert eye roll here) and he was loving it.

So then we sat down to find out how much it would cost!

I forget the exact figure as it was about 3 years ago, but it was about £500 to join, and then an extra £30 or £40 per month on top of all that. Bless their hearts though, they would give us a free Gi.

I think it was that evening that M got out the Yellow Pages and phoned the Karate School that I’m still a member of now.

I may not have a Black Belt within 2 years, but when I do get it, I’ll know that I’ll have earned it. Sadly, B quit Karate in February. He’d been lacking interest for about 6 months and since Christmas had all but given up trying. He’d lost all interest and both M and I were beginning to resent paying for him to go when he had little or no interest.

Yesterday I got my Purple Belt at Karate.   I wasn’t even going to grade, I was so sure that I just wasn’t ready, but at training on Tuesday and Wednesday both Sensei and Senpai told me that I really ought to . That they had no doubts at all that I could do it. Due to a Hen Weekend in London in June, I wouldn’t have been able to grade for Purple until September, which they both told me, in no uncertain terms was way too long for me to stay at Blue Belt level.

As soon as I handed in my form (and the money, of course) the nerves kicked in and I have to say that on Sunday morning I was a complete mess.   Definatley the most nervous that I’ve been since taking my driving test.

Anyway, the upside is that all went well. I passed ~ quite well too, all things considering and got some fantastic comments about everything, especially my Kumite which I love.

Unfortunately for most of my grading I was sat next to the Werewolf and I’d like to say that the smell coming from her was due to nerves but I know that it wouldn’t be true, and for hours yesterday I couldn’t get the smell of her stale and rancid sweat out of my nose.

6 months now, at the very least before I even need to start stressing and freaking out about my first Brown Belt.