Bristol - a watery sort of trip

Down to Bristol again this weekend to stay with Anna and Gareth.  Watery in the sense that for the first time in weeks we might have had to encounter rain, and involving a boat trip and touching the fringes of the big Harbour Festival.

Last time we came we spent time exploring Clifton, Anna and Gareth's new neighbourhood, this time we went further afield.
    First, we went to an exhibition of studio pottery at collector Ken Stradling's Design Study Centre, near the University. The pieces on show came from his collection.  A piece of family history here: Philosopher's first wife, and Anna's mother, was the daughter of the studio potter Marianne de Trey (she died in 2016, aged 102). Marianne's husband, Anna's grandfather, was the potter and painter Sam Haile, who died tragically young, in 1948. Ken Stradling, an old friend of Marianne, has built up a remarkable collection of glass, ceramics and furniture design classics. Through her mother, Anna made contact wit…

Pirates... and two car boots - Classic Cars on Hastings Pier and Elm Tree, Icklesham

Battleaxe hadn't intended to write about Pirate Day, but of course down we went today, and have got some great pictures. Then, last week, went to two Car Boots at opposite ends of the exclusivity scale. Firstly, the high-end Classic Car Boot Sale on the end of Hastings Pier, and secondly, the much lower-end Elm Tree Boot Sale at Icklesham.
    Last year, for Pirate Day, the WI did a tea-room event at the Jenny Lind - see this post. However, we decided it wasn't busy enough at that end of the old town. This year, Philosopher and I just got dressed up and went down to people watch and greet people we know. As ever, plenty of pirates of all ages, shapes and sizes but we did feel the event still lacks focus - they need a big parade, or a record-breaking attempt - something to pull all the pirates together in one place. They did try to put on something for everyone... even the Hastings Sinfonia playing classical Pirate favourites...
       Here are some Pirate pictures. So many …

Home again... Eastbourne Bandstand, reflections on Turkey....

Here we are, back at home. The weather is scorching, with no sign of rain. Obviously not as hot as Turkey, where it was 38 degrees, but somehow more humid and enervating - and of course, you have to do things here, not just lie about.  In the last post, I deleted a couple of paragraphs about the political situation in Turkey - did not fancy joining other bloggers in a Turkish jail, but will include them now. Our first outing after returning home|? The 1812 and fireworks night at the Eastbourne Bandstand with the WI.
      Philosopher and I had never been to the Bandstand, despite saying 'we must go' every time we pass it.        It was the Sevenoaks and Tonbridge Concert Band playing a selection of favourites including the 1812 overture with fireworks. Not, probably my first choice - I'd have gone for Abba Tribute, or Northern Soul - but it was fine. Of course, being mid-summer, it took ages to get dark. Some of the music was a bit dull - selections from Phantom of the O…

Turkey - Ramadan Bayram and beyond

Of course, when we booked our holiday we had completely forgotten that our stay would coincide with the end of Ramadan - four days of public holiday.  Mr Erdogan has increased the number of holidays....  This is a continuation of last week's post. Shaun has now gone home, so it is now Philosopher and me. The numbers of Turkish holidaymakers drastically increased, but has now dropped off again as the holiday period finishes.
     You wouldn't actually know it had been Ramadan here -  the cafes and restaurants still served plenty of food and drink to folk who clearly were not observant Muslims.  Skimpy bikinis are still worn by virtually everyone on the beach. We have only seen two burkinis so far.
     I suspect many that come here, like us, avoiding the big resorts, are some of the Turkish '48%'. (48.7% voted 'No' in the recent Referendum about giving the President more powers). I will write more about this when I get home.
     Here, our landlord Derya is som…

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