High Monsoon in the Watchtower

 

 

I have always thought of Singapore as a kind of watchtower, rather in the way that West Berlin was during the Cold War. It was the place to look around and get a variety of different views. This despite the fact that West Berlin was hardly an international crossroads. The week certainly confirmed the analogy. In just two days alongside my normal academic activity over here I sat in on a very cheery and breezy workshop that the British High Commission were organising for all the Defence attaches and advisors out in the Indo-Pacific and for people like BAE systems and Thales. This was interesting, and evidence that despite the Ukraine war, the Government appears to have no intention of scaling back on its commitment to the area. Nor to judge by a talk by the Swedish Foreign Minister I listened to does Sweden, or indeed any other European country as far as I can see. The extent to which Sweden has reversed course from its old 200 year old neutrality is quite astounding. But all that was fairly hum-drum academic I suppose.

However, just before that I was in a session on China and found myself sitting next to someone from the Russian embassy here. He was really interesting especially about Mr Putin’s nuclear threat. ‘My government is not going to do anything crazy’ he said, but he seemed genuinely interested in what I thought about things and didn't flinch when I told him. Interesting young chap. About two hours later I was in a group listening to what the Israeli Defence Attache had to say. He showed us an app on his phone which showed real-time Hezbollah missile attacks, quite detailed, how many rockets where they were headed, interception expectations – just like some kind of surreal video game, only for real. His immediate family were safely out here but he said he felt very guilty about that and twitched all the time about his parents back home, This was before the ICC warrant about Netanyahu so he escaped the grilling on that he would otherwise have got. In a horrible kind of way these really are ‘interesting times’ as the Chinese would say.

However back to the watchtower analogy. Up to the end of December it's high monsoon which means it rains every day at some time, and this is real rain, cats and dogs, bucketing down for quite long periods with localised flooding even in orderly Singapore and vicious cracks of thunder. If I am home when that happens the view from my top floor window reduces to about 10 feet. If I’m not like everyone else I run for cover if not already in it. Very difficult to plan for ! 

I was caught out in the rain forest by just such a shower ! I’m told things will get better after Christmas. We’ll see.

I have been amazingly well looked after. Last evening out to a Chinese eatery called ‘Enjoy Eating’ – which I did. Did you like the pig trotters they asked afterwards. And actually,  yes I did. Not too keen on the fish maw, mind you. Fish fingers are more my style. It’s all certainly an adventure, therefore. 

I try to get some exercise to balance all that eating, drinking and sitting around. This afternoon I did ‘the’ walk around Marina Bay (something like 12000 steps) This took me past what we called the Cricket Stumps.

An amazing hotel, where we once stayed, courtesy of a firm with lots of money. At the top – where the trees are – there’s an infinity pool where it really does look like you are about to swim over the edge. Along the bottom, there’s huge, plush, upmarket shopping mall. One of Cherry’s favourites. I was pleased to see the TWG tea Shoppe we used to frequent was still there. 7 years ago. It seems unbelievable. The shell like building bottom left is the Arts and Science Museum

The whole structure was built by the Koreans under careful Singaporean monitoring. On time and within budget, It makes some of our schemes look really amateurish. It also illustrates what I mean about Singapore being a real international crossroads. The people round the Marina bay this afternoon were also the most cosmopolitan crowd imaginable. People-watching here, over an ice-cold Tiger, is really rewarding

This ‘my’ bar on Emerald Hill is much more my style – hers too though. It’s the one in the middle. I use the stool at the very back on the left and lean against the pillar, to do my emails etc.

Where I am staying is on the edge of the Botanic gardens, ideal for quick trots out from the apartment. Lots to see. And interesting occupants. I nearly stepped on this chap in the leaf litter, One of the most extraordinary trees is this one slowly being strangled by a fig. Interesting also to see how mangrove swamps are formed, growing down from the top not the bottom.

The gardens have a little museum too of its founding in the 1830s and developing fortunes thereafter. It had a big role in the introduction of rubber into the region, which in the age of the new motor car did very well. Synthetic rubber was developed in the war, and after that not so good. Now Malaysia grows palm oil instead, which is worse for the environment of course. I was fascinated  though by this very early photograph of the visit of the King of Thailand in 1871. He's the chap in the middle holding the white hat. The original is sharper than my shaky copy. There I was in shorts and tee shirt, frankly sweating. All those ridiculous clothes in this climate ! They must have stunk like polecats ? Or maybe they didn't ? 

So, I am really doing my best to see everything I can while I am here. Cramming it all in with getting on with the book revise and doing teaching. All good fun, but very time consuming. I have to make a deliberate effort to stop and consider, like sitting on a bench with this view of one of the ponds of the garden. All in all I should remember this tree  - the one in the middle, engulfed over time by this extraordinary Strangling Fig. It first gets a grip, drops tendrils down to the ground, which develop into a denser, thirstier mass all around the tree. It dies in the end of course.

The same growing technique is evident in the mangrove plant on the dark right of this picture and below. These days mangrove swamps also need protecting. Throughout the Indian Ocean they got badly hit by the Boxing day Tsunami in 2004.

I have made the time issue worse fir myself in some ways, since I am flitting back to Europe at the end of the week to fulfil a long-standing commitment which I couldn't shift, the returning to Singapore before finally heading home for Christmas, which I am also much looking forwards to.  

Christmas is Coming Here Too

 

I knew it wouldn’t be long, but Christmas arrived this week in my apartment block in Singapore. As I blearily stepped out of the lift on Monday morning on my way to College, there was a tree in the lobby glittering  away, presents all around.

And later, when getting some milk from my local ‘Cold Storage’ (the local version of Waitrose- well some connection at least as some of its brand is available) I overheard, above an idiosyncratic, relayed version of Auld Lang Syne,  an animated discussion between two of the staff about which way round the reindeer should go. It should welcome customers, one said. The other evidently thought not.

          It was a reminder of just how fast this two weeks has flashed past, since the last transmission I very rapidly concocted (you could probably tell !) in the departure lounge at Heathrow.  It’s been a busy time, mind. I’ve opened a bank account. I’ve been ‘onboarded’ – they use the same phrase here as in Newport - and this morning went through the final stage of getting an employment pass. I’ve started the course – quite a big bunch of enthusiastic but apprehensive students so far, as varied as ever. I’ve attended my first hotel conference – on Disruptive Technology. (An essential part of being an academic, I find, is the capacity to speak magisterially on subjects you know virtually nothing about, but should). I’ve been thoroughly inducted into the local IT system (been given an account, shown how to print, scan and communicate etc etc)  and done a little to customise my spanking new office. Not much though. I find the one book I’ve got on my very smart bookshelves a bit unnerving. But in truth I think most of the book writing will take place in my apartment. Nice though it is, they don’t cater for academics so with the aid of various cardboard boxes scavenged from Cold Storage (they don’t want you sticking things on the walls) I’ve constructed a little work area in one corner of the living room, which I am quite pleased with. The family pictures should be conducive to genius.  

Finally, I’ve cracked all the tips about how best to get to college on the days when I am not being picked up. 3 MRT (or tube) line trips and one quite long bus ride. 60-75 minutes usually with a cappuccino in the Management School when I get there. This is one of the new buildings the university is very proud of – huge, made of wood, and uses traditional temperature control techniques to operate without air conditioning. I like it.

The so-called beehive next to it I think pretty awful in looks and function. All the rooms are circular so there isn’t a flat wall anywhere, and half the students have to sit facing the other way! It won any number of awards of course.

 Fortunately, I don’t teach there, and have a more conventional small very modern lecture theatre which works well. I admitted to the students that I have a problem with technology in my first session, so they were prepared as well as amused when I couldn’t work out how to switch the lights off.

On top of this I have managed a few mini-trips to the local sites, the Asian Civilizations Museum as ever. This included a wander around the area, where there was some kind of Indian festival going on. Looking down on it was a statue of Raffles, a truly amazing man who effectively founded the modern Singapore in two or three years from 1819. It existed before but as a tiny sleepy little fishing kampong of a couple of itinerant families. The local Sultan was only too happy to give it away, for a consideration in the anticipation that Raffles would transform the place. Which he certainly did. I wondered what he would think now if he could see it. Mixed feelings I would guess. He was a great botanist, nature lover and admirer of local custom. So all this ultra-modern city-centric cosmopolitanism wouldn't have been entirely to his taste.

 I have also managed  my two reciprocal clubs – (I still have the British one to do – I’ve only been once and that was to give a Trafalgar night after dinner talk), tracked down 3 little antique shops (all closed, please ring) and of course the Botanical gardens, virtually next to my apartment.  I did though enjoy a quiet ‘Happy Hour’ at my favourite bar on Emerald Hill, where I did my emails accompanied by peanuts and a very welcome very cold glass of Jebisu beer. Much more to do so I had better get on with it…..

Hail and Farewell

It's been a disgracefully long time since the last transmission, no doubt a disappointment to my countless followers. But I kind of expected it after seeing the state the house and garden were in when I got back from the US. These last couple of months I have been eyes down trying to rectify it all. That and redoing the book meant here wasn’t much time for communicating with the rest of the world or for relaxation, apart from the odd family trip and my weekly injection at Caffe Nero.

But I must say that I am pleased with the results. Both the House and garden are looking much better and bedded down for autumn and winter. Of course there’s still loads to do. The Granny Annex is now up and running after two floods. Complete with antique rugs from Kashmir and Afghanistan, courtesy of Cousin Clive.  The recent awful events in Spain are concerning so just in case the annex is sand-bagged to a level significantly higher higher than it was last time – as well as a big new water-diversion system done. I am very much a belt-and-braces man. The water ends up in the road on the corner anyway, but I had rather it didn’t do so via the annex and garage. This year the Annex has been a major unlooked for extra commitment.

The latter has also been the site of an unremitting war against rodents after the £ 2000 damage they did to the car. So far 12 to 1 to me, which just suggests the scale of the problem. - and that doesn't count the three totally desiccated ones I found in the loft when giving it a last check before the taxi arrived. Regardless of such victories,  I still don’t dare put the car away in the garage.

Anyway all this helps explain the silence from my end recently.

Highlights of the time included a great family weekend at Burgess Hill where nearly all the clan were able to assemble despite the lurginess (clearly not a word, but you’ll know what I mean)  of some of its members. Not just no ill-effects but a great tonic, not least the opportunity to revisit Wakehurst Place gardens, utterly transformed from the time when were based at Crawley Down. It was unrecognisable. Also vast numbers of visitors – hard to believe how to believe so many. All present were on fine form. Here are the two junior princesses. It was all really fun.

And so, in a different way, was a school reunion of about a dozen (very) old boys from Bishop Wordsworth’s Grammar School at the White Hart hotel in Salisbury. A convivial lunch was followed up for those of us with the energy to go on a tour of the school afterwards. Again, great differences – a Reception and check-in system, though no fire-arm detectors quite yet. My particular aim was to get back inside the building in the Quad that was for the civilized members of the school, namely the Arts Sixth Form. It was in a

building accessible from the Cathedral Close16^th Century if not earlier. I had a minder, the very personable and assured Head Boy and he said he enjoyed it too as he had never been into this part of the school. I was searching for the small oak panelled room which a very small ultra-select group of us used as our base camp. This was indeed located, but in the throes of the investigation I inadvertently poked into the Headmaster’s office, again oak panelled, much bigger of course and with a lovely fireplace. I had no idea it was there. He was a bit surprised but was charming about the intrusion and we had a nice little chat. My minder was impressed. The holy of holies obviously. Here the inspecting party may be seen outside the more prosaic part of the school. ( I wasn't putting myself forwards - it was just where I happened to be standing when our guide took the picture.  Interesting to see that the prestigious Science block opened by Dr Bronowski in the early 1960s was looking distinctly worse for wear in comparison. Interesting also, if in a different way, was the double-take when we told then what year we were,

There were also a few other nice distractions too, a weird dinner party in Oxford to commemorate the appearance of a major work on the history of the Royal Navy at which I was strangely feted for being an apparently significant but unconscious contributor. A fun meeting of the Friends of Friendless Churches at Long Crichel, Dorset, followed. Two of the highlights of this were sitting down on a low table tomb, next to a lady on her own who turned out to be an Art Historian Prof, at Winchester - very interesting - and being given the most enormous slab of cake (plus another to take home !) I’ve ever had. Bad for the diet but fantastic. The more conventional members of the group used the blue tables you can see here. Cherry and I had 'done' the church before of course. This was a different church group - in Dorset after all so I wasn't on duty this time. Much more relaxing. En route I inflicted myself for coffee on Tony and Maya in Shaftesbury. 

A work visit to the IMO [International maritime Organisation- a UN outfit that regulates the global shipping industry] with an amazing view of the Thames and another to Trinity House. In the margins of this I managed to squeeze in a trip to Till-Jones land in Walthamstow but a major KCL reunion already booked up had to be cancelled because of flooding on the railway line. Long story but not for now 

And so to all points East once again, but now for the last hurrah….

A New Normal Beckons

 

I’ve just returned from my last jaunt, details to follow. And now a quiet period of two months without a trip awaits. This in fact is quite welcome after the past couple of months which were ridiculously frantic. They also contributed a lot to the general decay of house and garden which I have been lamenting for some time now.  The scale of this was brought home to me by the state of the windows at the back of the garage which I attended to in the fortnight before the Sweden trip. Getting them out of the danger zone, however temporarily, was quite a challenge in time, let alone skill, and the effort barely scratched the enormous ‘to do’ list that  I have been building up. And, of course, the challenge is a consequence of my being away so much over the past couple of years. Getting to grips with it could actually turn out to be rather satisfying.

That fortnight, though also saw me getting the car serviced and a social engagement or two. This included the All Cannings Garden Club BBQ where I found I knew rather more  people than I expected to. Here’s a picture of me apparently in full flow, perhaps saying how big my cucumbers are.

After all my grief in the garden – thanks to slugs, Muntjac deer, terrible weather etc, I have been rather encouraged by the extent to which the garden has recovered from a low which saw three sowings of Broad Beans producing exactly one bean (bean -not pod) which I ate with relish, the onions completely failing for the first time ever and the logan berries, gooseberries and black currants just being taken by the birds while I was away. Since then, though, it’s been reassuring  to find excellent crops of French Beans, early Apples and blackberries, sufficient raspberries and wheel-barrow loads of plums of every size and description. The real surprise though was finding the pear tree producing a dozen eatable pears,  the first since we moved in thirty years ago. The outside freezer is getting seriously re-stocked, and at the BBQ, I didn’t feel as ashamed of my performance as I really should have done. I still need to get the potatoes up, though. That could be tense.

The last trip for some time was to Sweden via Copenhagen which was a gathering of ancient mariners – only about ten of us, largely Swedish and British though my American friend John Hattendorf came too. (His wife was Swedish and he speaks it too, along with several other European languages). The subject was the country’s maritime strategy now they have joined NATO. This was very interesting but the real delight was the food, the company, the setting and the sights we saw. I was bowled over by the food – everything we had was totally delicious. I said, on the basis of this, how surprised I was that there weren’t more Swedish restaurants around. ‘Well,’ said one of our hosts a bit defensively, ‘there are two in New York.’

The setting was a small seaside town, the Baltic being about a hundred yards away. Our host was a chief executive of a Japanese-Swedish shipping company (and one could easily see why, clearly brilliant but extremely personable) , evidently well loaded and with an obsessive interest in naval history. He had his own naval museum where we held our meetings and his charming wife (who actually collects Abba memorabilia) is a saint to put up with the fact that their house (read small elegant mansion- and one of several) was absolutely stuffed with the growing overflow. They put several of us in their place. I was in the Hen House, well that was the latest use it was put to in its 400 year existence before being converted into an annex bedroom, the walls covered historic maps. Here are two views of the residence, the top from the garden table I used to do some work, write diary etc. Hen house on the right, antique stuffed dining room on the left. Below, a view of Baltic the other way round from the back of the main house.

After the main weekend event, John and I were treated to a special tour of other naval sights and stayed in Tromto manor, the decayed Summer residence of one of our company, a member, as they say, of one of Sweden’s ‘oldest families.’ This is him in the amazing rope-walk of Karlskrona naval base.

His part-time residence was large, by the side of a lake and reachable only up a three mile woodland track, mainly 16^th-18^th Century and only partly modernised. 

No modern heating or any of that nonsense. Again,  stuffed with antiques, this time of the family. It was all hands to the plough for the five of us to make ourselves comfortable. It was brilliant and I developed a real liking for schnapps. It was the sort of place I used once to dream about getting and modernising in the holidays – of course in fact it would have been an absolute nightmare.

Here's my room after I had made up the bed and settled in. Also a representative salon showing the manor's still current use as a hunting lodge in the season. They have a lot of trouble with wild boar, hence no garden now. But at least we had some for dinner one night. Also the view from the rook area of the lake with my shadow - rather clever that I thought.

From this bit of borrowed paradise our tour included Kalmar castle, which was as fantastic inside as it looked from outside and which had a great restaurant in the room they used to sign the Kalmar Union of 1397. I really liked the chapel too. 

Then on to Karlskrona and another naval museum, a tour of the nearby naval base, lunch at the Officer’s club and much else. Unfortunately the cathedral which I wanted to see was closed, but you can’t have everything. I'm aware that this boring series of superlatives sounds over the top but it really was a quite outstanding trip and absolutely shows that here in Europe for all the fancy ways of more distant areas we have a lot going for us.

Once home, a day to unpack and prepare for a lovely family weekend  to renew acquaintance – another major disadvantage of the globe-trotting life style now drawing to a close.  There was much feasting the picking of apples and all the delightful usual. 

And then a Church visit to the south of the County, where we were taken to visit five churches. I had actually visited four of them already – one 40 years ago !  But this was an opportunity to do them in depth. Especially for me as I was official group note-taker and photographer, and to make this possible I spent the day before on a recce. Even in driving rain this was useful as I could do some of the photography in peace and quiet and was also able to divine the quickest routes from place to place and the best parking spots. The only one I was late for on the day, was at Maiden Bradley but that because I was able to inveigle myself into a splendid lunch with Pat and James.

If all goes on like this I suspect I will still have things to do, when I finally hang up my mortarboard !

Up North and Out East

 

Lots of travelling and socialising these past few weeks. It started with a delightful long weekend with Ann and Mike in Beverley. It was quite a long drive so on the way up I broke the journey at Charlecote Park and coming back at Hardwick Hall. I like to get the maximum use of my NT card ! I must say, Hardwick Hall was stupendous – such a scale. I was so inspired that when I got back I started reading a biography of Elizabeth Ist which has been on my bedside table now for rather too long.

Once in Beverly wonderful companionship – so much to talk about. It started well. I was admiring their great Welsh dresser and Mike said there was a secret drawer in it. I wanted to see it, but when looking for it, Mike inadvertently found a second one ! Inside there was a letter of the 1870s which neither of them remembered ever having seen before. It was a sad letter of resignation on health grounds of a local vicar. Fascinating!

Of course we found time for doing some local houses and churches and eating well. In particular an extraordinary series of embellished Victorian churches covered in wall paintings. Garton had an amazing roof and I was very pleased with this near perfect picture of it. I took it bending backwards as much as I could.

Sledmore House was interesting. Outside Mike showed me the Waggoner’s war memorial which showed the Germans being beastly to the Belgians in 1914. Fake news really with one or two exceptions of course. So Donald Trump didn’t invent that concept either.

 But a real find was this picture of a dissolute young man, Henry Cecil Paget, 5^th Baronet of Anglesey who just might have played rather a significant part in the family history. More research needed !ouseHouse was fascinatingHopuse

After this great weekend, it was time for a quick rush around of last minute jobs before packing once more for Singapore. This trip was very different from the last one since I spent most of the first week helping out with a Maritime Security course at the Navy’s Changi base. There were some 140 punters from a whole variety of countries, including Europe, the Gulf and Africa as well of course as lots of locals. An interesting bunch of people many of whom I got to know quite well. One of the highlights [apart from my lecture, naturally] was a visit to a glitzy shipping company in a really glitzy high-rise with stupendous views. They had real-time communications with the captains of their ships as they headed for the approaches to the Red Sea.

Tapping into these discussions comparing time and fuel costs, when set against the risk of attack, plus the details of their insurance packages was fascinating. I realised how tightly controlled their ship captains were.  Nelson would have turned over in his grave had he heard, but he would at least have been pleased at the high priority being attached to crew safety.

During the conference, there was a collision between two tankers and a fire just off shore in the Singapore  strait – two of Russia and Iran’s so called ‘dark fleet’ of oil sanction-busters. Judging by the fact that one of them was a hit-an-run merchant, later arrested by the Malaysians, they were up to no good at night- probably a dangerous ship-to-ship oil transfer. It reminded us all how important what we were doing actually was. Even though it’s behind the scenes so most ordinary folk don’t realise how critical it all is. No shipping, no shopping as they say .

But there were plenty of light-hearted moments too, with a lot of the wining and dining with the RSIS Maritime team

that is so fatal for the waist-line. No wine actually, generally local Tiger beer. The weekend I arrived saw a rehearsal of Singapore’s National Day celebrations and they had an open day at the Istana which I came across and went in despite the fact that it was midday and stinking hot. Nice English style country house grounds, appropriate as this used to be the Governor’s residence. Imposing.

It’s now used for state functions  and decorated with gifts from around the world. Only two from Europe, the Dutch and us. Appropriate I suppose. The UK gift was a rather insipid watercolour of the UK High Commissioner’s current residence. But the clear winner I thought was this spectacular sand painting from Rwanda.

For me though a real highlight of that week was sitting outside No 5, Emerald Hill in the velvety darkness of an evening  reading Anne’s excellent ‘Simple Dame Fairfax’ over a Tiger and four-cheese pizza. It was the back story of the housekeeper in Jane Eyre, totally absorbing. I shall do a review of it for Amazon

And then it was off to Jakarta for more visits and talks  with defence colleges and research institutes, more meetings, the obligatory masses of photos. Here’s me in full flow in my batik (so much more practical than a suit) on Chinese strategy.

and also the ignominy of more or less having to perform at a Korean karaoke barbecue event with a spirited rendition of ‘Country Roads’ and less successfully ‘I did it my way’ (I hadn’t realised how damn long that song was !) There were about 50 of them and they all cheered when I finished, curiously just as a US warship appeared on the supporting screen.  I hoped the cheering was a gesture of appreciation but fear it was just relief that I’d finished.

Jakarta has changed a lot since we first went there all those years ago. We stayed in two hotels there. In the first they’d run out of rooms so they gave me an upgrade. It was so big I got lost in it. Swanky shopping malls are popping  up here and there and clusters of amazing mirror glass skyscrapers, right next to dirty narrow, dark little streets lined with tiny stalls selling everything under the sun . The medieval and the 21st Century sitting side by side.

 Rather more head-scarfs around than I remembered ( and a few all over bourkas with even the eyes hidden behind sunglasses) but still plenty of mini-skirts  and tank tops. I’m always surprised that there’s not more social tension than there is in Indonesia, They’ve just had an election there and a change of government, all very orderly. Much discussion about what it will all mean. An interesting indication of UK influence I spotted. But I think it was the Japanese who made them drive on the left not us.

And then, a week and two hotels later it was a last pack, Singapore and home. Now a quiet summer awaits ! Hopefully getting everything back in order. Maybe.

 

The Beast, ball-and-claw and other things

 

 

It seems ages ago since I visited the Peranakan museum in Singapore but it was only just over two weeks. That was on my last weekend in that city when I had the time to go and visit some sights that had been closed for refurbishment during the Covid pandemic and have only just re-opened. This museum is devoted to the varying cultures of the mixed race peoples of the city – particularly ethic Chinese/Malay/Indian people who were commercially very successful in the mid to late 19^th Century. I particularly like their very colourful ceramics, which I sometimes confuse with ‘famille rose’ and ‘famille vert’ design’s characteristic of 18^th Century Qing.

There was also an exhibition of ‘Fukusa’; apparently these are the ornamental cloths that the Japanese used to cover special presents to people. These were quite spectacular, glittering with gold and silver in the darkened light of the gallery.

The following day I did the Botanic Gardens again, this time in hot sunshine and in particular the Jungle trail which takes you through a miniature rain forest. This really has some fantastic trees- but not a bird in sight. But I did meet one of the denizens of the lake.

The last day was spent at the Tanglin Club for breakfast and a swim before starting my flight back to the UK. It was a good three weeks, if a bit alarming to see that about one person in five wore a mask after a doubling in the city of the latest covid variant. Even I did on a couple of occasions when travelling on the tube (the MRT) pressed up against other people in very crowded trains.

And so home to find the grass a foot long but the Granny annexe finished. Now all I have to do is repaint damaged skirting boards and walls. It sounds easy, but involves having a reasonably steady hand while lying sideways on the floor – well for me at any rate. Otherwise, it was a question of getting ready for the next trip. There was one pleasant distraction, namely a visit to Lo and Graham at Hawkchurch, a real weekend for unwinding  and maybe an opportunity to see what retirement should look like. If it means getting up when you want to, nice company, good food and the occasional visit o a National Trust house it sounds quite attractive.

And then it was back to Newport for another conference, and an opportunity to renew acquaintance with my colleagues across the pond. Everyone treated me with great hospitality. Getting there was completely hassle free and I had the use of a wonderful apartment on Goat Island, splendidly equipped, in an exclusive gated community that looked straight out over the harbour. Surrounded by yachts of every size and  composition. The view from my sitting room was pretty good too.

It couldn’t have been nicer. Alongside the academic work I could not resist renewing my membership of the ‘Preservation Society of Newport County.’   To get my money’s worth, I managed to squeeze in 7 of the city’s 9 Newport Mansions. Every time I visit one of these mansions I spot something new and particularly like the libraries. Here are two of them.

Also little details like the subtle variations in 18^th Century ball-and-claw feet  of the local furniture.

What helped was my personal transport. I had asked to rent  an ordinary compact car, but instead they gave me a Lincoln Navigator. This was a tank, a 16 mile per gallon gas guzzler that positively towered over lesser cars like Landrovers and the like. To make getting into it possible ‘the Beast’ slid out what we used to call a running  board for me to step up onto first !  But I must say it was a joy to drive, if a nightmare to park.

Transport was also the theme of the beginning of my second week, which was intended to be pure holiday. This required me to take an Amtrak train down to Virginia south of Washington. I knew the trip would take some time so invested in a business class seat in order to pass the time profitably on my little laptop. All the same, no refreshments were available (unless one was prepared to abandon all one’s stuff and walk down to the other end of the train to collect crisps and coke, a process which would take nearly half-an-hour). The seat table rattled so much I had to perch the laptop on my knees, with charging wires all over the place. The nearest loo was blocked. I knew the US was big and had been startled to find the trip would take 9 hours. In the event it was 10.5 hours and when I arrived at Quantico where my long-suffering host was waiting, I found the station closed, and with two other people, got out of the one opening door on the train down onto the track.  But in fairness I must say that the cheerful train conductress came to fetch me and arranged that it was the business class door that opened ! If you add the trip to and from the station -another 2+ hours, it was 12 hours, no food, no drink, no nothing.  Surprisingly, I got a lot done, but not a good advert for Amtrak. It makes British Rail look rather good by comparison.

But once in Quantico- Don and Jean in their woodland home,

the ultimate in good hosts, made the following week all that I could wish it to have been. They have a anti-fly netted porch looking out into the trees, a wonderful place to catch up on e-mails etc.

  Great company, and varied, with all their friends, newshounds all. I learned a lot. Watched the dismal debate between Biden and Trump etc etc. Great food, two Civil war battlefield tours, five houses of the great (George Washington, Robert E Lee and so on) , a winery, a delightful Church (Aquia 1757, three decker pulpit, most of the box pews cut down in height after being used by Unionists to stable their horses ) 

and an absolutely fascinating studio/house owned by an Impressionist painter Gari Melchers that I had never heard of  but was very impressed by – not least for a truly inspiring collection of antiques he had collected just before the First World War. Stratford Hall with its extraordinary chimneys where Robert E Lee was born was one highlight – though it could have done with a National Trust-like tea-room.

Nice just the two of us being addressed as ‘You all’ in a deep Virginian accent by the lady receptionist. And all this in temperatures that at one stage were 114 Fahrenheit  ! This visit involved quite a trek through rural Virginia, again underlining just how big the United States is. On this trip we saw lots of these fences. I studied one for quite a while at George Washington's boyhood farm , but couldn't work out how they made it, deceptively simple though it looks.

 As one of two relics pottering about looking gun emplacements on the Mareye’s hill battlesite above Fredricksburg I found this sign comforting, the heat notwithstanding. 

The Peardun winery on the other hand had a cooling breeze. I was pleased with this picture taken with a telefoto lens sitting down with a wine-glass perhaps 20 feet away from an unsuspecting butterfly.

 A week of superlatives indeed. And so back to Blighty, departing from Dulles, transformed from my memory of it, into an efficient place capable of despatching me into the tender arms of British Airways in about 20 minutes. And so home