Task 44: Throw a pot

Earlier this year I was talking to my friend Jane about my Sixtyat60 challenge. She cast her eye over my then incomplete list of tasks and made the observation that I didn't seem to have any hands-on craft-based activities.  She was right of course. 'Any suggestions?' I asked.  'Well' she said, 'you could always throw a pot......?' At this stage, I should explain that Jane is an artist specialising in ceramics and textiles - and so what better person to help me complete this task?

Last Tuesday I duly turned up at Jane's pottery in Stroud.  Following her instructions to the letter, my fingernails were trimmed, my rings were removed, the sleeves of my baggy old shirt (purloined from Jonathan's cupboard) were rolled up and I was ready for action.  I gazed in admiration at the shelves in the pottery, which were filled with pots of all shapes and sizes awaiting the next stage in production. 

I felt excited, curious and apprehensive in equal measure.  I've seen and admired Jane's finished pots, cups, mugs, plates, dishes, colanders, vases and much else besides for almost 40 years, but in all that time I've never watched her throw a pot (hence the excitement and curiosity). For my part, I haven't touched a lump of clay since I was at primary school, I become completely uncoordinated when asked to copy someone else's movements and I'm a perfectionist by nature (hence the apprehension).   

We got started. Jane demonstrated the key stages of how to throw a pot. As the wheel turned, the clay responded instantly to her skilled handling. Her right hand shaped, her left hand supported and it took her no more than 3 minutes to produce a perfectly even and centred vase. Then it was my turn. An image (not a good one) of the Generation Game popped into my head.  Jane talked me through the first throw. She remained impressively calm as I proceeded to disregard 98% of her instructions. I learnt how quickly a piece of clay on an electric wheel can become an unworkable blob. Jane sensibly left me alone to experiment. Two hours later I'd managed to produce one small pot that had a hint of symmetry to it, although to be honest that was a fluke. But I'd had fun doing it. 

The next morning we returned to the pottery for Session 2. Jane took me through the basics again, once more with me in charge of the clay. Afterwards I practiced coning up, flattening, creating the hole and pulling back the clay. I got through eight pieces of clay and each one turned into an off-centre lumpy mess. I had to bin the lot. At this stage some frustration began to creep in, accompanied by such thoughts as 'Let's face it, you're rubbish at this pottery thing Hunot'.

After a sustaining lunch (nothing like a fine slab of Brie and home-grown tomatoes to regain one's sense of perspective), I decided it was time to square up to my perfectionist tendencies and I returned to the pottery for my final session with renewed spring in my step. Jane gave me a few more pointers and then all of a sudden, oh my goodness, things actually began to click into place. I took hold of the clay and it showed small signs of trying to behave itself. Here I am raising the wall of a pot - hurrah!

Several pots later, the frustrations of session 2 had melted away and I began to understand how pottery could be a pleasurable and frankly quite addictive activity. Here below are the very modest fruits of my labour.  

Finally Jane did another quick demonstration so I could take some photos of her in action.  Not surprisingly I had a much better appreciation of what she was doing this time - I'm now in even more awe of her skills!  

Jane and I agreed that Task 44 was definitely a challenge for me rather than just a pleasurable activity and on the back of it I've developed a formula for learning a new skill, which is:    

Fun + (Frustration/Fear of Failure) x Friend + Fine Food = Fulfillment

A massive thanks to Jane for a wonderful 1.5 day tutorial. My pots are going to be baked in her kiln in October and any that survive the process will then be glazed brown or blue - can't wait!  In the meantime if you'd like to see some examples of Jane's finished work, her website is www.clothandclay.co.uk 

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Task 27: Go to 6 Edinburgh Festival Fringe events in 36 hours

I attended the Edinburgh Festival Fringe for the first time with my friend Jane back in 1973, when it was a relatively modest enterprise.  I've never been back to it since, but every year at the beginning of August, Andrew and I say to one another with monotonous regularity, 'Next year we must go to the Fringe.'  

Then my sixtyat60 challenge loomed, and it occurred to me that attending the Edinburgh Fringe would make an excellent 'walk the walk' task. It was duly added to my list and flights/hotel were sorted. All we had to do was book our events. Hold on a minute, did I just say 'All we had to do....'? Because I soon discovered that these days you can choose from over 3000 shows (3552 this year to be exact) and Task 27 was to attend just six of them. Six shows that:

1)  didn't overlap in time slot
2)  were sufficiently close together in time slot that we could see them all comfortably within 36 hours
3)  had availability
4)  were diverse in genre
5)  were showing the weekend of our visit
6)  were of mutual interest to Andrew and me

The combination of 3000 events to chose from, coupled with the set of exacting criteria above (note especially number 6), resulted in procrastination on my part for the next two months. Not a single show got booked - until, that it is, just three days before our flight to Edinburgh, when I went into super-manic panic mode. I researched, checked, filtered, discarded, reflected, agonised, threw a few quiet wobblies (yes, you’ve guessed it – we'd left it too late to get tickets for some shows) and short-listed twelve promising candidates. Andrew was tasked with selecting the final six, and ten minutes later our tickets were booked and confirmed (although in truth we weren’t entirely sure what three of the shows were all about). Phew - job done.

On Saturday morning we arrived at the Fringe. Here's the evidence that I really was there (NB the sign I'm pointing at is rather tastefully disguising a dustbin).

If you've ever been to the Fringe, you’ll know that it’s a buzzy, crazy, exhausting, confusing, exhilarating melee of sights, sounds, smells (some nicer than others), sensations and flavours. I shall try and convey something of this to you as I describe our super sixsome Fringe journey.....

Event 1. Saturday 1300: Jonathan Prag - classical guitarist
This consisted of a beautiful programme of music masterfully and serenely performed in a small church tucked away from the hustle and bustle of Fringeland.  Serene, that is, until Jonathan played the Usher Waltz - wow, what was he doing with those guitar strings? Very spooky. Watch it being played by another guitarist on YouTube   

Event 2.  Saturday 15.00: Adventures of Improvised Sherlock Holmes - 'The mysterious case of the mysterious case'
Were the performers old enough to be at big school?  I found myself wanting to ask if they'd washed behind their ears. There was a bonkers but very entertaining plot involving bombs, Donald Duck and Colonel Saunders, as well as the Baker Street duo and the indomitable Mrs Hudson. Here's our man Sherlock offering photo opportunities after the show.

Event 3.  Saturday 16.30: John Lloyd (producer of QI) - 'Emperor of the Prawns'
Mr Lloyd offered us his unique take on the meaning of life, citing various Cambridge mathematicians and philosophers along the way, together with key messages such as 'Life is but a death sentence' and 'A smaller pie is eaten more quickly', not to mention 'IWA BARITE' * (answer contained in his book - yes, of course he was there to plug one - but if you don't want to buy the book, just scroll down to the bottom of this blog).

Event 4.  Sunday 11.30: Jazz Brunch at the Royal Overseas League, Princes Street 
This consisted of a fat breakfast (involving black pudding, potato scones and very disinterested Eastern European waitresses who gave impressive death stares if asked to bring more coffee), whilst an 'award-winning' pianist called Jean Paul-Muir tinkled the ivories in an impressively jazzy and cool way.

Event 5.  Sunday 13.00: Gecko Theatre - 'Institute'
An amazing combination of stunningly executed modern dance, music and acrobatic movement together with dry ice, red flashing buttons and oxygen masks. Did it depict the road to madness and back (and did they ever get back?). Or was it a representation of work stress and loss of control? Or a comment on the meaning of support and human connection? Andrew and I had to agree to disagree. But we both emerged feeling blown away and a little wrung out. Here's one of the four performers after the show with proud mum, with same performer also on the poster behind his head (complete accident on my part but I rather like it).   

Five events down, one to go, and 90 minutes to spare. 'Piece of cake to complete Task 12' we thought somewhat unwisely. We legged it over to our final venue and sat in the bar to recover from Event 5. A few minutes later, in flounced a girl in a wedding dress. Yes,it was none other than the star of our final event, Anna Morris, aka Georgina, Bridezilla from Hell. Georgina decided to have a little chat with us - well, in truth at us, as she was in role for the entire conversation - and advised us to start queuing as soon as possible in the lobby outside the room where the show was being performed, in order to guarantee getting seats. 

Half an hour passed, and we were still the only people in the lobby. This seemed rather surprising, given the show's popularity. Andrew sent me to do a recce outside the building and to my alarm, there was a stupendously long queue snaking down the road and around the corner. Had Bridezilla Georgina deliberately scuppered our plans?? Would I get to see my sixth show before we had to head to the airport? We swallowed our pride, cursed silently, went to the end of the queue, kept our fingers tightly crossed, and somehow against the odds we managed to squeeze in at the back. And so finally......

Event 6. Sunday 15.55pm: Anna Morris, comedian - 'It's got to be perfect'.

Audience took part in a wedding rehearsal for Bridezilla Georgina's wedding (allegedly taking place on 31 August at Edinburgh Castle). Volunteers were plucked swiftly and without mercy from the audience to take on stand-in roles of husband, best man, chief bridesmaid, father of the bride, ex-boyfriend, speech writer and music planner. Those unfortunates sitting in the front row were Georgina's primary targets - and since we were sitting right at the back, we were able to avoid her gimlet gaze - result! The show was side-splitting from start to finish - Anna Morris's ability to improvise and ad-lib was wonderful. 

In summary, I think it's fair to say that the six shows we attended fulfilled our Fringe criteria perfectly - although as you can tell, that was more through luck than judgement.  In addition to the shows, our weekend was filled with street acrobats, mime artists, jugglers, dancers, musicians, clowns and aliens, not to mention kilts, sporrans and bagpipes.  I'm so glad that my sixtyat60 list got us to the Edinburgh Fringe at last - and Task 27 is not only completed, but definitely one to be repeated.

* It will all be all right in the end

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Raising the profile of Alzheimer's disease and dementia

As you know, my main purpose for doing this sixtyat60 challenge is to raise money for Alzheimer's Research UK.  When I first started writing my blog nearly 3 months ago I wrote a post about my mother in law Grace to explain why  I've chosen to support ARUK.  Since dementia is such a common illness, I’m keen to ensure that this blog represents the experiences of other people who have been affected in one way or another by dementia.  So every few weeks, I’m going to publish a post in which a friend or neighbour of mine tells their story. In this post, Angela describes her auntie Betty and her mother-in-law (a huge thank you to Angela for sharing her story).

‘Auntie Betty was actually my father's cousin, making her my second cousin, but I'd always called her "auntie." In spite of being engaged twice, she never married, simply because the love of her life was a 400-acre farm in Wiltshire and she couldn't bear the thought of leaving it. The farm, Dudmore Lodge, was bought by her father in the 1930s. Originally it was a mixed farm, with cattle, pigs, chickens alongside the arable land. By the time Auntie Betty and her sister Margaret were running it, it was just arable.
 
Auntie Betty's parents died in the 1970s, as did Margaret in the 1980s. So from then until she went into a home in 2007, Auntie Betty ran the farm single-handedly - an unusual feat these days, let alone then. She took on a young man to help and he eventually managed it for her, though she remained very much in control of absolutely every aspect of the farming. She was very, very stubborn and was reluctant to move with the times. This meant that the farm was run very much along the same lines as her father had run it in his time.
 
We first noticed that there was something wrong with Auntie Betty when she started falling and not being able to get up easily. Alongside this the house and garden became increasingly down-at-heel and neglected, but we just dismissed that as her not caring about the appearance of things, being concerned only for the farm. Then her driving became a cause for concern. She only ever drove into the village down the hill, but when she got through three clutches on a year, we realised she wasn't getting out of first gear! Then there were reports of her driving down the hill, taking a wrong turning and not being able to work out how to turn the car round and get back on the road. The GP refused to act, so eventually we simply took the car keys away, to prevent her from hurting herself or someone else.
 
In spite of all these early signs, Auntie Betty was, I now realise, very, very skilled at playing games - in other words, keeping up appearances designed to convince the world that everything was OK, she was as she always had been, completely in control (we noticed the same thing with my father-in-law more recently, so I wonder if this is an aspect of dementia - the pretence, which, of course, loved ones are only too happy to believe.) 
 
I think we finally acknowledged the seriousness of the situation when Auntie Betty allowed herself to be taken advantage of by a family who had bought one of the bungalows on her land. We discovered that they persuaded Auntie Betty to sell them parcels of her land at prices way below their market value. They did this more than once and were so very crafty about it. Their young son befriended Auntie Betty and used to visit her after school. She loved his company and so was completely taken in by the whole family and for a while wouldn't hear a word said against them.
 
Next came the uncharacteristic behaviour. Once she hit me on the arm for no reason, quite hard. Worse still was her comment of "cocky little bitch" when I was sounding off about something. It was possibly deserved, but it was so embarrassing as it was in front of other people and was completely atypical, as I knew she was very fond of me. I guess it was just what she was thinking at the time, only she spoke it rather than keeping it to herself.
 
The falls became more frequent and she went into hospital more than once. After one stay in hospital, she went home with some sort of care package, with social workers visiting her on a regular basis. She refused to move her bedroom downstairs, there was another fall, another stay in hospital, after which we persuaded her to go into a care home in the village "just for a rest." She was well looked after and became happy to be there. Its’ very local situation meant that she had lots of visitors. I remember an Open Day there once. I sat next to Auntie Betty for lunch and was much amused to see her eating not only her own food, but also anything she fancied from her neighbour's plate!

Auntie Betty lived for about two years after moving into the home, which is, I believe, the average. It was a sad end to such an exceptional life, although I guess the beauty of it was that she had no inkling that she was losing her mind and so was content'. 

A brief word on my mother-in-law, who is about to be 95 and has been in a care home in Guildford for five years now. She was always a rather difficult, disgruntled woman, who showed little affection for anyone. Strangely, now she has vascular dementia, she is a much nicer person! She even makes approving remarks when in the past there was only criticism. So now it's a case of "Angela, you're looking good!" rather than "You shouldn't wear that colour - it drains you!" The saddest thing, though, is that she forgets that my father-in-law has died and keeps asking my husband Peter where he is. He tells her, she denies all knowledge of it, even though she attended the funeral, and then five minutes later asks the same question. Yet she manages to remember everyone's name and asks after our grandchildren by name, which seems quite extraordinary.'

If you'd like to describe your experiences of caring for someone who has dementia, do please email me at sixtyat60challenge@gmail.com.  It could be just a few words,  a few paragraphs or an extended story. I'd be really pleased to hear from you.

For further details on Alzheimer's Disease and dementia, visit http://www.alzheimersresearchuk.org/ or  http://www.alzheimers.org.uk/

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Task 50: Track down old friend Neil Simpson for cocktails in Knightsbridge - completed!

You may remember that in my blog about three weeks ago I described how I finally made contact with my old friend Neil after a gap of 39 years? Well, I'm really happy to say that Neil, my brother David and I have had our grand reunion! In the end, the location wasn't Knightsbridge, nor did we drink cocktails, but as we sat in the lovely gardens of the Royal Overseas League in Pall Mall (after all, it had to be somewhere posh didn't it) in glorious sunshine last Friday, glasses of chilled prosecco in hand, we were in agreement that the setting for our get-together was a very good one.  So I do hope you'll be willing to overlook our failure to comply with the finer detail of the task?

Anyway, back to the story. As David and I were waiting in the splendidly grand reception hall at ROSL for Neil to come and sign us in, I began to feel a tad anxious (as well as very excited of course). Would we have anything in common after so many years? Would we run out of conversation after half an hour? And crucially too, after Neil's serious health problems over the last 18 months, would it be a frail and vulnerable man who came forward to greet us? And then......'David..........!! Vivien........!!' called out a familiar voice from the other end of the reception hall - and there he was, a picture of seemingly robust health, arms outstretched, huge smile on his face and (if I may say so) displaying a very fine head of hair. The tone of the occasion was instantly established and the 39 year interval shrank to nothing.

During our wonderful 3-hour lunch (no, of course we didn’t run out of conversation after half an hour!) we not only spent plenty of time reminiscing and catching up, but also had a very satisfying grumpy old wo/man rant-ette about the evil of mobile phones (even though we use them all the time and two of us even checked our phones several times during the afternoon), overuse of selfies, the world's obsession with social media, the loss of face-to-face social interaction and so on - a sure sign of old friends feeling comfortable with and attuned to one another! And a very important conversation between us was about Neil’s health – diagnosed with a brain tumour that after many very difficult months became amazingly responsive to treatment, he described how he had relished the opportunity during chemotherapy to wear a vast array of natty hats without feeling as if he was showing off, and how these days he values and celebrates everything he does in the here and now. I think that's a brilliant attitude to have and it was one that David and I also embraced whole-heartedly last Friday afternoon. Naturally we didn't take any selfies (see above!), but we did ask the waitress to snap us (Neil's on the right) - I mean I do have to provide you with evidence.......

So that's a very special task completed, and one that, as my younger brother Clive remarked afterwards, surely justifies the existence of my sixtyat60 list in its own right. Task 50 may be in the can, but I shall be continuing to pester Neil for regular get-togethers - Mr Simpson, prepare yourself!

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Have my photo taken with Swedish singer songwriter Anna Ternheim

Where on earth do I begin with describing this task? There's an awful lot to tell you about, and the narrative lurches from joy to despair and back again. Brace yourself for an extra-long blog if you can bear it!

The story goes back to about 3 years ago when Andrew and I chanced upon the Swedish version of the Wallander detective series on BBC4. We quickly became Wallander addicts and I was especially captivated by the very haunting theme song, called 'Quiet nights', sung by a Swedish singer songwriter called Anna Ternheim. When I did a Google search to find out more about Anna Ternheim, I discovered that she was due to play one concert in London the following month – such perfect timing! I duly booked tickets for Andrew, me and Lucy (always game for a gig our daughter). However by the day of the concert my life had been turned upside down by a potentially serious health problem and I couldn't even muster the strength to walk to the end of the garden, let alone make my way over to West London. Andrew and Lucy had to attend without me and Andrew came home raving about Anna's performance - ooh, I felt sorry for myself that night I can tell you.

I’m glad to say that after various investigations and procedures I returned to full health - but Anna Ternheim hasn't ever returned to the UK to do another concert. When I was putting together my list of sixty tasks, I decided that a good way of consigning that horrible period of my life to history forever would be to successfully attend an Anna Ternheim concert - and for some unknown reason I upped the ante of the task by saying that I must have my photo taken with her (I mean honestly, what was I thinking of? What if she didn't do any concerts over the next 12 months? And how did I ever think I'd get to meet her face to face??)

Well, as it happens, at my 60th birthday lunch back in May I received an amazing present from Lucy - she had found out that Anna was playing at a festival in Stockholm on 2 August, so she contacted Anna and her tour manager, gave them the background to my Sixtyat60 challenge and my Ternheim task, and arranged for me to meet Anna at the end of her concert. Oh and she also got her father to pay for the flights, hotel and festival tickets of course. What a gal!  Here I am having one of those 'Mum's getting all emotional again' moments when I opened her present.

Arrangements for Task 55 all seemed shipshape and tickety boo. And then last Thursday morning, two days before we were due to fly out to Stockholm, disaster struck. At home were eight healthy-bouncy-happy puppies (courtesy of our wheaten terrier Mabel) who were due to leave us for their new families the following day, thus freeing us up nicely for our Ternheim weekend. And then in the space of no more than an hour or two those same carefree pups suddenly plummeted into sleepy listlessness, interspersed with occasional vomiting and not so occasional nether region symptoms, as a stomach upset swept through the entire litter. For nearly 24 hours it looked as though our trip to Stockholm was a goner altogether. But the vet was brilliant, her medicines worked a treat, the owners were still willing to go ahead, and on Friday evening against all odds, the three of us were back on track for Sweden. 

Until, that is, we received a phone call at 11.45pm from a frantic Lucy in London announcing that she couldn’t find her passport. She scoured every nook and cranny of her flat all night long as the clock ticked away relentlessly towards our departure. The Passport Office couldn’t help, the passport remained at large, Lucy’s flat looked as though MI5 had paid her a visit and all to no avail. No passport, no trip to Stockholm for Lucy. I sat in the departure lounge at Heathrow in tears (not happy ones this time) the next day, Scandi-noir-esque thoughts in full flow. 

To add to our woes, as Andrew and I sought refuge in a glass of bubbly (in my view the only effective intervention at a time like that), we heard over the tannoy that our flight was delayed....and delayed again....and then it was called....and we boarded....and we sat on the tarmac....and we got off the plane....and we heard over the tannoy that our flight was delayed……you get the picture. We finally arrived in Stockholm at midnight, 8 hours late, exhausted as well as daughterless. 

 On Sunday morning we dug deep, located a seam of black humour in our psyches, resolved to enjoy ourselves on behalf of Lucy and made our way to the Stockholm Music and Arts festival where Anna was to perform that evening (see photo of me admiring a tiny poster). I was suffering from a tummy upset (I tried to convince myself it wasn't puppy related in any way) and unable to eat a thing, but frankly by then that just seemed like a minor inconvenience. 

First we watched Beth Hart perform on the main stage - wow, what an amazing voice she had! The sun came out and we felt the bonhomie seep back into our veins. Then Van Morrison (headline act) came onto the stage, his amazing band kicked into action and guess what......the heavens opened. After dancing gamely in torrential rain to Brown-Eyed Girl, Moondance and other great classics, we squelched our way over to the beautiful church (see photo below, which I took the next morning when the sun was shining) where Anna was due to perform at the end of the evening. We knew we'd have to queue for two hours to ensure getting a seat inside and we were damp, cold and hungry. But Task 55 was almost within my grasp......

By now you've waded through the despair bit - would you care for a dollop of joy now? Because after the hurdles and disasters described above, thankfully the rest of the story feels a bit like a dream sequence to me. Andrew and I landed up with fantastic seats inside the church and Anna's concert was one of the best I've ever been to - she's an extremely accomplished musician with a stunning voice and great stage presence, and she sang a set of beautiful songs to an audience who were clearly all massive fans, which added to the intensity. One especially striking moment for me was when she walked down the aisle and out of the church half way through the set to sing a song to the crowd of people who couldn't get seats and were standing outside in the chilly night air. She was gracious, self-deprecating and funny, as well as thoughtful and kind (not to mention hugely talented), which is, I guess, why she was also willing to meet me personally at the end of the concert. I feel very proud to have had my photo taken with her (see below) and I can now say that Task 55 is well and truly completed! 

And the moral of this story? Strength through adversity?  Or ‘It’s not the situation, it’s your response to the situation that matters?’  Or ‘Perseverance pays’?  Any of those would probably fit the bill.  But perhaps the most important thing is that I still feel a surge of happiness whenever I think of sitting in the church at Anna’s concert, thanks to my lovely daughter -  plus said lovely daughter has an incredibly tidy flat now as a result of putting her all possessions back in order following her MI5-style search.  

If you think that our struggles deserve to be rewarded by a small contribution to the amazing Alzheimer's Research UK charity, then do please visit https://www.justgiving.com/Vivien-Hunot  And tusen tack to Anna Ternheim for supporting my sixtyat60 challenge - she's a real star in every way.

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Task 29: Travel down the Thames on a Thames Clipper to Greenwich

My friend Carol celebrated reaching 60 by kayaking down a section of the Thames. She said it was an amazing experience and it got me thinking about Thames related-tasks for my Sixty at 60 list, imitation being the highest form of flattery of course.  It occurred to me that despite having lived near London for the whole of my life, I've never actually travelled along the Thames.  Whilst I wasn’t entirely convinced by kayaking as a means of introducing me to Thames travel (potentially cold.....wet......very hard work.......?), the idea of zipping up and down the river in a Thames Clipper commuter-style really appealed to me. And who better to accompany me on this particular task than Carol, who had the brainwave of incorporating it into her 60th birthday present to me (tickets to the stunning Savage Beauty exhibition at the V&A).

And so it was that last Wednesday Carol and I found ourselves heading down to Embankment Pier on the Thames to take on Task 29. The sun came out, we boarded the Thames Clipper courtesy of Roamer tickets, found ourselves seats at the bow and off we headed to Greenwich. Here's the evidence (great pic by Carol, Tower Bridge looks fab in the background, can't say the same for that windswept person in the foreground). 

It was such a brilliant journey!  We saw the Houses of Parliament, London Eye, Shard, Gherkin, Tate and many other iconic landmarks. We stopped off at various piers along the way and then after leaving Canary Wharf, the throttle was pulled out and we headed down the Thames at top speed. We arrived at Greenwich just 30 mins after leaving Embankment, big smiles on our faces all the way - what a contrast with travelling on the tube or bus......

After lunching in Greenwich (as one does), admiring the Cutty Sark and gazing at the beautiful Old Royal Naval College buildings, we headed back on the Clipper to London Bridge City where we met Lucy for a celebratory glass of prosecco (any excuse) before heading home to the wilds of Sussex. 

So that's one very pleasurable travel task now completed and I can definitely recommend the Thames Clipper as an alternative mode of transport for getting across London - it's certainly the most fun.