Tasks 47 & 29: Use my senior rail pass to visit Antony Gormley's Another Place sculpture on Crosby Beach, Liverpool

In my view one of the simple pleasures of life is to take a trip by train - and since using a senior railcard is a rite of passage for any self-respecting retiree of 60 and over, it seemed an ideal task to include on my sixtyat60 list. Andrew and I agreed that in order to complete the task with maximum effect (ie the biggest saving), we needed to buy a day return and travel as far as possible during that day. We settled on Liverpool as a destination because I've never ever been there before and it seemed a do-able distance to travel in a day. 

Ah yes, Liverpool......renowned City of Culture and birthplace of the Beatles. And on its outskirts is a district called Crosby, which boasts not only a very fine 2-mile beach, but also Antony Gormley's 'Another Place' sculptures, known locally as the iron men of Crosby. I've been wanting to pay my respects to the iron men ever since their installation ten years ago. So another great task for Sixtyat60 - and a perfect fit with Task 29 to boot. 

We purchased our senior rail tickets (overall saving of £72 - yay!), reserved our seats and set off bright and early last Friday morning. Our journey was to take us from Haywards Heath to Blundellsands & Crosby via Euston, Liverpool Lime Street and Liverpool Central (sorry, did I just detect a stifled yawn there?) On the Euston to Liverpool Lime Street leg, Andrew had the window seat. He stared out of the window and looked thoroughly at peace with the world. I sat by the gangway, wrote up my Dennis Severs' House blog, ruminated over my feeble performance on Splash FM radio the previous day, talked tiny tattoos with daughter-in-law Liz and ate a croissant very messily.  A Beatles song popped into my head - '...she's got a ticket to ride but she don't care....' 
                                         

We arrived in Blundellsands & Crosby (such a lovely name for a station) at 1.30pm and strolled down the road to Crosby beach. The weather was totally sublime - not a breath of air, not a cloud in the sky and the sun's warmth on our backs.  We'd been a little fretful that the tide would be high and the iron men submerged from view, but not a bit of it! This is our first sighting of the installation.

Altogether there are 100 sculptures. They were made from casts of Antony Gormley's body and are positioned far and wide across the beach, all looking out towards the horizon. Some have been placed deeper into the sand and others are slightly elevated on small platforms. They've all weathered in different ways, according to their positions on the beach and the ebb and flow of the tide. 

 

Antony Gormley describes the sculptures as 'a middle-aged man trying to remain standing and trying to breathe'.  They looked to me as though they were practicing mindfulness meditation. I was mesmerised by their air of quiet contemplation. 

My reveries were eventually disturbed by Andrew, who coaxed me over to a van to buy ice-creams (they were 99s after all). 

Then for a short time we became a little irreverent towards the sculptures. Hoping that no Liverpool or Everton fans were watching us, Andrew draped a Crystal Palace scarf and hat around one long-suffering individual.

I formally completed Task 29 by standing next to a sculpture (having first removed all traces of the Palace shenanigans). 'I wanna hold your hand' I said to him.  'Let it be' replied the sculpture with an air of quiet resignation.   

Then we meandered along Crosby beach, watching local people enjoying the afternoon sunshine and their dogs diving into the shallows to retrieve sticks and balls. A group of small children arrived with their teacher to do some drawing. Two huge oil tankers crossed the horizon slowly. Smoke billowed from a factory chimney in the distance. And all the time the iron men stood in silent reflection looking out to sea. 

   
All too soon we had to leave this beautiful setting and returned to Liverpool city centre to catch our train back to London. But the tranquility of Crosby beach stayed with us, and I found myself staring out of the window in a state of serene harmony.  Well OK, the prosecco probably helped too.

We arrived home at 10pm and another Beatles song popped into my head - 'daaaay tripper yeah......' Tasks 47 and 29 proved to be a stand-out combination.  Do go and see the Another Place installation if you can - I promise you'll be glad you did.  

I'm doing the sixtyat60challenge to raise funds for Alzheimer's Research UK. For further information or to make a donation please visit my JustGiving page at https://www.justgiving.com/Vivien-Hunot  

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Doing the time warp at Dennis Severs’ house in Spitalfields, London

So what prompted me to include Dennis Severs' House on my list of cultural tasks?  Well, quite simply, I listened to my friend Hilary's description of her visit there several years ago (it was one of her sixty things at 60), and it sounded such a curious and interesting place that it was instantly filed away for potential replication on my own list.  

My companions on this task were Jane and Loretta, who were at college in Eastbourne with me when we were 17. I'm going to be honest with you,  my use of the word 'college' is a euphemism. It was actually called Eastbourne School of Domestic Economy. It was a bit like a Swiss finishing school, only it was in East Sussex and we had to learn how to clean a loo and do feather icing on fairy cakes. The three of us shared a room together for a term. Jane had a very sophisticated camera with a timer feature - here's a selfie of us 1972-style (Jane's in the middle and looks rather vampish although that may be because she had to throw herself onto the bed very quickly before the shutter clicked).

Loretta, Jane and I arranged to visit Dennis Severs' House last Wednesday. The last time the three of us met up was in 1982, so it was destined to be a very special reunion. Since the actual task would have to be conducted in complete silence (more on that later), we decided to convene for afternoon tea at a nearby boutique hotel to give ourselves some crucial catch-up time. I arrived looking mildly jittery as I'd just been contacted by Alzheimer's Research UK press office asking me to do an interview on Splash FM the following morning about the sixtyat60 challenge, Jane turned up looking splendidly violet (not for nothing is she known in Gloucestershire as the Purple Potter), followed a minute later by Loretta, who was looking calm and collected in chic muted shades. We had a very fine afternoon tea, accompanied by an equally fine glasses of champagne, and talked nineteen to the dozen for two hours. 

Following our over-extended chinwag, we immersed ourselves in a vital teambuilding exercise, in which we had to find Dennis Severs' house within 15 minutes. Jane and Loretta drew their phones. Jane produced an A-Z app and Loretta countered with googlemap. I dithered (it's worth bearing in mind that learning how to use a googlemap app is Task 38 on my list). Would our friendship survive this battle of apps? I'm proud to say that after a detour or two, we arrived at 18 Folgate Street dead on time, and were still talking. Here we all are outside Mr Severs' front door.

We were given a brief introduction about the house on the doorstep. Dennis Severs bought the house in 1979 and gradually turned it into what he called 'a famous time-machine'. Here he is with the previous owner of 18 Folgate Street. 

We were told politely to remain silent throughout our visit, to mind the many lit candles, to resist the urge to touch anything and not to take any photos. We heard that the house was inhabited by the Jervis family, who were Huguenot silk weavers through the 18th and 19th centuries. According to the guide, the family would always depart from a room just before we walked in. So far so spooky......

Then we crossed the threshold into a dim candlelit world of creaky floorboards, surfaces heaving with historical artefacts and bric-a-brac, the sounds of passing hansom cabs, the scent of pomanders and old wood, a wig hanging from the back of a chair, delicate china cups with half-drunk tea, empty oyster shells on plates, fires glowing in grates and loads of little 18th century post-it notes in scratchy copperplate writing on mantlepieces. 

In the front basement was the kitchen where I especially loved the dresser (it's like mine only with ten times more cups, jugs and plates).

We slowly worked our way in silence through the house from the basement to the third floor, taking us from the 18th to early 20th century. Our guide was right of course, we never did see the Jervis family, but there were frequent signs of a sudden departure - a broken cup on the floor, a collapsed deck of cards, a fallen over chair (looked like there'd been a heavy drinking session in that room). 

Dennis Severs said about his house 'either you'll get it or you won't'.  I like to think that I was in the former category (but perhaps I wasn't?). A unique and surreal experience.  

Forty five minutes later we emerged into 21st century Spitalfields. Unlike the Jervis family, I remained in situ while Jane and Loretta took a photo of me as official evidence of my visit. Loretta did think I looked as though I'd been stood up by Dennis. So perhaps his presence lives on with the occupants of his house...... .. 

So a memorable visit to a memorable house and a very big thank you to Loretta and Jane for being wonderful companions on an afternoon when we raised a glass to both the passing of decades and of centuries.

I'm doing the sixtyat60challenge to raise funds for Alzheimer's Research UK. For further information or to make a donation please visit my JustGiving page at https://www.justgiving.com/Vivien-Hunot  

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Task 30: Take a Caterham for a spin in the Sussex countryside

Michael, our older son, is a mechanical engineer, and like so many engineers before him, decided to build himself a kit car. He collected various large pieces of metal, went on a welding course, bought himself a boiler suit and set to work in our garage. Meanwhile Andrew and I dreamt of being taken for nippy little rides along country lanes. That was in 2006. In 2011 I threw a wobbly, the pieces of partially welded metal were swiftly removed from our garage, and the kit car was re-homed in Derby where Michael lives.  Here's an up to date photo of the car, hot off the press, taken outside Michael's workshop. Note that the car now boasts two very fine embryonic front wheels and some interesting inner bits - that's definitely progress. But somehow I don't think we're going to get our ride in it this side of er - 2020?

So earlier this year when my friend Linda suggested taking her partner Peter's Caterham kit car for a spin as one of my sixtyat60 tasks, it seemed like far too good an opportunity to miss. 

On Sunday, the day before our Caterham spin, I experienced something of a sartorial meltdown - I mean, what does one wear when riding in a jazzy little sports car through the leafy lanes of Sussex on a sunny September day? In the end I decided that the best course of action was to model myself upon Bridget Jones (I refer you to the film Bridget Jones' Diary), who in the infamous sports car scene with Daniel Cleaver was modelling herself upon a screen goddess. On Monday Andrew and I duly eased ourselves (and I do mean eased ourselves) into the Caterham and posed for the camera. Here below are Bridget & Daniel and Andrew & me (I should just explain that Andrew and I are in the right hand photo in case you're finding it difficult to tell the difference).

       

Peter had spent hours fine tuning, polishing and buffing up the Caterham so that it would look at its very best for our mini road trip. Andrew firmly gripped the wheel, revved the engine, eased the car into first gear - and we were away! 

I suspect if anyone were to read through all my blogs to date, they'd notice that I have a bit of an obsession with the weather. I feel sure I use the phrase 'bluer than blue' far too often. But the sky was....well, very blue on Monday. Which was especially fantastic since we'd originally arranged to do the task on a summer's day in August and had to put our plans on hold because it was bucketing down with rain. This is what the view was like from inside the car on Monday.

Andrew did most of the driving through the leafy lanes. I took over for about 5 miles where the road was straight and not too bumpy, but in truth I really enjoyed being a passenger. It may not surprise you to hear that Andrew loved being at the wheel - he had a big smile on his face from start to finish (I watched him gradually morphing into Toad of Toad Hall). 

We met up with Linda and Peter at the Ginger Fox near Albourne for lunch. The food was wonderful and really good value.  We all returned to the car park feeling full of bonhomie (and calories) and took a selfie to mark the occasion. I do think Peter is looking a little squeezed out of the photo, which seems very unfair after all his hard work. Andrew and I returned to our own car. What an anticlimax. Andrew uttered small 'poop poop' noises all the way home. 

I'm really grateful to LInda for coming up with such a great idea, to Peter for allowing us to take over the controls of his special vehicle, and to both of them for being splendid Caterham companions. It was a lovely task from beginning to end - my scarf didn't fly off like Bridget's, the weather stayed dry, and the car wasn't stolen, even though Andrew accidentally left the keys in the ignition all through lunch...... 

Michael - over to you now - we're counting the days!

I'm doing the sixtyat60challenge to raise funds for Alzheimer's Research UK. For further information or to make a donation please visit my JustGiving page at https://www.justgiving.com/Vivien-Hunot  

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Task 32: Flamenco dancing in Seville, Spain

When my daughter Lucy was on her gap year ten years ago, she travelled round Europe for two months and became a bit of an expert on European cities. She admits now that her assessments may have been slightly biased by the quality of the youth hostels she stayed at. But one city that she took a special shine to was Seville. 'Oh Mum, Seville's totally wicked!!' she enthused at the time, 'You must go there!!!' 

Seville was duly added to our ongoing travel programme (Lucy was very convincing), but when push came to shove, it always seemed to lose out to another destination. And then back in April this year my hairdresser Emma happened to mention that she'd just returned from a flamenco festival in Seville. Her description of it made my eyes gleam - and Task 32 was on my sixtyat60 list in the time it took Emma to get her scissors out. 

At my 60th birthday lunch a few weeks later, I was handed a fat envelope by Jonathan and Liz. In the envelope were the booking details for a long weekend in Seville at a boutique hotel, together with tickets for a flamenco show and a note saying 'Enjoy working your way through the 60 at 60 challenge! Hopefully we can help you on the way.' I was very touched by their support - and goodness, what an amazingly fantastic present!
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Andrew and I duly arrived in sunny Seville last Friday. The temperature was a sizzling 37 degrees and the sky was bluer than blue, as you can see in the photos below. We were staying in the old part of the city, where there are an abundance of quaint and quirky cobbled streets. Everywhere we went we could see evidence of flamenco - toy guitars, flouncy dresses, castonets, shawls and ornamental combs, not to mention men hovering around restaurant tables strumming guitars (one of Andrew's pet hates by the way)......yes, Seville clearly lives and breathes flamenco.  

  

We spent our first day sightseeing in the sunshine. We explored the third largest cathedral in the world, climbed up the Giralda tower, cooled down in the gardens of Real Alcazar Palace and had a tour round the Plaza de Toros (no bull- fighting that day I hasten to add). We also stopped for regular glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice.  

         

But the highlight of the weekend - and the focus of Task 32 of course - was the flamenco show on Saturday evening at Casa de la Guitarra.  We arrived at the venue to be greeted by the host of the show, who welcomed us all as if we were his personal guests. He ushered us into a small and intimate room, which contained a tiny stage, seating for about 50 people (each of us had our name marked out on a chair), and cases of rare antique guitars on the walls.

A guitarist kicked things off with a series of beautiful flamenco pieces, after which he was joined by a male singer who sang songs of despair in a curiously haunting cracked voice. And then the dancer 'La Yera' appeared on the stage. Wow......the power, the passion, the intensity, the speed of her tapping feet - she was astounding! The show felt completely authentic -it seemed clear that we were watching professionals at the top of their game - and we left La Casa an hour later in very high spirits. 

Having read my account so far, you may well be thinking this task was entirely about pleasure and fun, and it certainly was that. However, just a few days before our trip, Emma (my aforementioned hairdresser) decided to push me outside my comfort zone a little by daring me to have my photo taken in a flamenco dress while I was in Seville - and on hearing about this dare, Jonathan upped the ante by saying he wanted to see Andrew dressed as a flamenco dancer too. Oh noooo!!  During the weekend, this challenge did weigh on our minds a little. Then I had one of my mini brainwaves. We headed over to a busy touristy spot in the nearby Plaza de Espagna, took a deep breath, approached a young man, slipped him 3 euros, got our heads into position and subjected ourselves to 120 seconds of public humiliation and embarrassment in front of a gathering crowd of onlookers.  Did we achieve the dare? Well I like to think so! The things we do for good causes eh.

The above experience not withstanding, I whole-heartedly agree with Lucy's assessment of Seville - it is a totally wicked city!  Massive thanks and the biggest of hugs to Jonathan and Liz for a memorable 60th birthday present. Tiny tattoos next Liz....... 

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I'm doing the sixtyat60challenge to raise funds for Alzheimer's Research UK. For further information or to make a donation please visit my JustGiving page at https://www.justgiving.com/Vivien-Hunot  

Task 26: Admire the Tudor treasure trove at the Mary Rose Museum

When I was 9 years old, I was fascinated by archaeology. I was given a book for Christmas called 'All about archaeology' by Anne Terry White and I used to read and re-read her stories about ancient hidden treasures. My absolute favourite was the one describing the discovery of the Sutton Hoo Saxon ship in Suffolk. Needless to say, my burning ambition was to become a world famous archaeologist. 

As I grew up, I let go of my obsession for archaeology and hidden treasures. Then on 11 October 1982, the hull of the Mary Rose, Henry XIII's favourite flagship, was lifted out of the water a mile from Portsmouth Harbour, and in a flash my former obsession was re-triggered. The mystery - why did the Mary Rose sink? The excitement - all those Tudor warship artefacts. The tragedy - only 35 from the crew of 500 men survived. The envy - if I'd stuck to my childhood dreams, I could have been the female chief archaeologist in charge instead of that lucky lady Margaret Rule.

After many hours of watching the extraordinary salvage operation take place live on my TV screen, did I leg it down to Portsmouth to see the Mary Rose and her treasure trove of artefacts?  Er.......no. Somehow life just seemed to get in the way. Until at last, thirty-three years on, it was added to my sixtyat60 list as Task 26. And since Portsmouth is situated somewhere between East Sussex and North Devon, my North Devon-based friend and colleague Rachel agreed (I'm delighted to say I didn't have to press gang her) to accompany me on this childhood-inspired task. 

Last Thursday morning, Rachel and I met at Portsmouth Royal Dockyard and after a vital coffee break to plot our course for the day, we navigated our way to the Mary Rose Museum. The museum building has been designed around the Mary Rose in such a way that she can be observed by visitors whilst the the final stage in the preservation process is completed. Her timbers are being slowly dried out with air pipped through long ducts in tightly controlled conditions, and visitors can only view her from behind glass screens. 

Our first sighting of the Mary Rose was in fact a rather fine model of her. We decided that a photo of me standing next to the model would be reasonable evidence that I was actually at the museum.  

We then entered into the dimly lit viewing gallery and made our way to the first window. I was holding my breath. Back in 1982 when the hull was first brought to the surface, I thought quietly to myself that it didn't seem all that large. So I was preparing to see a structure of very modest proportions. But oh my goodness....there the hull was, towering above me, with a series of decks still attached in an almost perfect cross-section.  I was transfixed! We walked along each of the three viewing decks to gaze at the ship from different levels and angles. Her size isn't conveyed in the photo below at all (and she's somewhat hidden behind the air ducts), but I thought I must show it to you anyway. 

Of course, a key feature of the museum is the Tudor treasure trove of artefacts. There are many instruments of war on display, including beautifully decorated cannons and shot, archers' longbows, swords, small iron guns and the like.  But of more interest to me were the day to day 'living ship' items that have been carefully extracted from the silt. There was the surgeon's hat and his instruments (oh my heavens, that poor crew, the super-large syringe for treating venereal diseases and the trepanning tool would have had me in full flight to the crow's nest) and the cook's kitchen gadgets, including an Aga-like brick oven, two vast cauldrons, and loads of oak storage barrels. I was especially moved by the cook's shoes. 

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The museum is about to close for the final phase of restoration, after which the glass screens will be removed and the air ducts dismantled - and then the Mary Rose will once again be on open view to all. And when that day arrives in summer 2016, Rachel and I are determined to be at the front of the queue! A huge thank you to Rachel for being my trusty companion on board the Mary Rose (see below - you can tell I don't know how to take a decent selfie) - a brilliant day at Portsmouth Historic Dockyard.

If you would like to follow this blog click here for information on how to do so. 

I'm doing the sixtyat60challenge to raise funds for Alzheimer's Research UK. For further information or to make a donation please visit my JustGiving page at https://www.justgiving.com/Vivien-Hunot  

Task 23: Tracey Emin’s bed at Tate Britain

I've been asked a number of times over the past few months where the idea for my sixtyat60 challenge originated from. Time to clear up that particular little mystery! Several summers ago I was having lunch with my friend Hilary, and she happened to mention that she was in the midst of putting together a wishlist of sixty cultural activities to celebrate her sixtieth birthday. The list sounded amazing and a lot of fun......so much so that I couldn't resist squirrelling away the idea for myself. The twelve 'culture vulture' tasks that kick off my own list were inspired by Hilary's original concept - and so who better to accompany me on a culture vulture task than my paragon of inspiration Hilary?  

The setting for Task 23 was Tate Britain, a beautiful neo-classical building near the Thames at Millbank.  Its exterior oozes culture and it was looking at its very best against the backdrop of glorious September sunshine and the bluest of blue skies last Thursday (see photo below - please ignore tourist in jeans unwittingly taking centre-stage). 

So why did I want to see Tracey's bed? Quite simply, curiosity. What was it about this installation that had shocked and polarised opinion 17 years ago? How could a messy bed generate a current price tag of £2.5 million? And what was the human story behind the installation (ever the psychotherapist me...)?

Tracey's My Bed was installed in its own small gallery at the far end of the building.  Here's our first sighting of it. Anyone stepping over the brown line around the bed would set off an alarm, although there was no warning of this, so it went off every couple of minutes and everyone just ignored it.

Hilary asked me for my initial reaction to the bed. I had to confess that my instincts as a one time mother of three teenagers were kicking in.  On the face of it the installation looked very sordid and student-like. I wanted to straighten up Tracey's slippers, recycle the empty booze bottles, strip the sheets and throw open the windows. I remember reading that a cleaner had once hoovered the piece of blue carpet by mistake and frankly I could understand why she did so.  

Then we began to become intrigued by the items strewn around the bed. There was a soft toy dog, loads of different tablets, a sachet of ketchup, a packet of blister plasters, a razor, a mirror - not just the used contraceptives, dirty underwear and KY jelly that journalists always like to highlight.  We were also struck by the 1998 timewarp - no mobile phone, tablet, kindle or charger, almost unthinkable in 2015. And another random thought - all those cigarette butts and packets, yet not a sign of matches or lighter??  

As we became drawn into the detail of the installation, we got to thinking about the state of mind that Tracey Emin had been in at that time. A relationship had just broken up and she was in a state of suicidal despair. She must have been in her mid-30s at that point, which seemed to give the scene added bleakness. We agreed that her ability to step back and observe the bed as a conceptual piece of work at a point when her life had felt so intolerable, together with her willingness to expose her inner turmoil to the world, was nothing short of impressive. 

Tracey Emin commented recently that whilst in the 90s 'My Bed' was all about cool Britannia and the shock factor, she thinks it now shows how time affects all of us (she says the black leather belt on the floor of the installation used to go round her waist and now only fits around her thigh). Certainly a quick eyeball of my childrens' bedrooms in their own homes these days shows change over time - not a single soggy towel on the floor anywhere now. 

Hilary and I stood by Tracey's bed and talked about it for over an hour - perhaps that's an indicator of its £2.5 million value?  Here's the evidence that we really were there (we weren't standing on the bed, honest).

And finally, how many cigarette packets could we see littered around Tracey's bed? The answer is...........three packets.

So a brilliant first visit to Tate Britain for me (I can't wait to go back and look round the other galleries) and a really interesting insight into 90s BritArt and its doyenne.  A big thank you to Hilary for a wonderful afternoon of musings - I'm already looking forward to our next cultural expedition to the Jerwood Gallery in Hastings!

If you would like to follow this blog click here for information on how to do so. 

I'm doing the sixtyat60challenge to raise funds for Alzheimer's Research UK. For further information or to make a donation please visit my JustGiving page at https://www.justgiving.com/Vivien-Hunot