The cycle of learning

When I was a teenager, I stepped on a banana skin. Until that point I had no idea banana skins were actually slippery. I'd viewed them as fictional comedy props that never really worked properly, like itching powder and invisible ink. The same as those cartoons where errant cyclists flew over the handlebars. How I laughed. I was even laughing after I flew over the handlebars of my own bike in Lewes this week. My biggest regret was not catching the moment on camera.

It was, you'll be pleased to hear, my fault. Well, I was in a hurry. I wasn't early enough to catch the bus from Ringmer, so I was pedalling frenetically down Southover Road and then stopped too quickly. All of a sudden I was flying through the air and doing an impromptu handstand while my bicycle caught up. "Are you alright?" asked a concerned passer-by. Much to my surprise, I was. I continued to my meeting, had a strong cup of tea (for medicinal purposes only) and cycled home.

Unfortunately the combination of tea and adrenaline eventually ran out. An uncomfortable ache in my left hand became evident. Torn between suffering the pain of my cycling injury and the pain of waiting behind dozens of more-deserving patients in Brighton's Accident & Emergency department, I asked my wife for advice. "Why don't you go to the Minor Injury Unit in Lewes?"

This was a revelation. What a wonderful resource. Although I knew the Lewes Victoria Hospital was there on Nevill Road, I'd not realised it was happy if you wandered in without an appointment. But wander I did. This time I travelled on the 28 bus, which turned out to be a wise choice. After a spot of form-filling at the hospital I was soon seen by ‘Sister’, who gently prodded me, noticed me flinch and sent me off for an x-ray. A few minutes of Bargain Hunt on the TV in reception passed the time adequately before my hand was irradiated. Back to Sister, who'd spotted a worrying line on one of the photographs. Perhaps a scaphoid fracture, she said, perhaps not. But better safe than sorry. She plastered my wrist and part of my arm, booking a consultation for me at the Brighton fracture clinic. They'd take a closer look, possibly with an MRI scan.

The reason for the caution, I was told, was that the damage could affect blood flow to the bone... which in turn could cause problems with my thumb. And, as Sister pointed out, it's our thumbs that set us apart from other animals. Too true, I thought, as I strolled back to the bus stop. Without a thumb I'd be no more use than a cat. And what chance was there of a cat ever writing this column?

First published on vivalewes.com 5th September 2013: http://www.vivalewes.com/the-cycle-of-learning/

Feline groovy

"Good morning, fatboy" says the teenager as he wanders downstairs for his breakfast. I'm tempted to reply with "It's not fat, it's loose skin" but instead I shrug and adopt an expression that suggests I don't understand. Well, I've been up half the night partying and would rather get back to my dream about goldfish. Oh, how I love goldfish. A bit like sushi, except livelier. Sorry, I'm being rude. I haven't introduced myself yet. Mark's busy this week so I thought I'd step in and lend a hand. A paw, really. I'm Rupert the cat.

I know what you're thinking. (No, honestly, I do. We cats are all telepathic). What's a cat going to write about? Much the same as your regular columnist, I'd say. Admittedly I don't see as much of Ringmer as he does - these days I've put away my cat-nav and limit my territory to the end of the street - but I still stay in touch via social media. Oh, how I love twittering. It's like hearing a dinner bell.

Anyway, as I was saying, Mark's tied up with other work. Not that I usually call him by his chosen name. To me he is The One With The Food. This grand title means he is accorded worship on the sofa most evenings. Humans will suggest it indicates affection. We cats know better.

So with my waiter and your writer distracted, I'm able to offer a few opinions about the local area. It's certainly a popular destination for single cats and mismatched cat couples. Not many feline families. I blame the folk down the road at Raystede for that. Yours truly popped in to visit their animal sanctuary when I was a kitten and left a few days later with the distinct sensation a couple of important components were missing. (Every so often I have a look underneath to see if it'll jog my memory. It doesn't.)

When it comes to retailing, we felines are well catered for in Ringmer. Cat-ered?  Pah, never mind. You'll find a cat convenience store (known by humans as the 'pet shop') and a cat healthcare centre ('v-e-t'). Various shops for people, too.

I can also confirm there's no rat problem in Ringmer. There's no mouse problem, either. There's not even a crunchy vole problem. All are found in adequate supply if you know where to look. (If you don't know where to look, try lurking by next-door's decking half-an-hour before sunrise).

Still, I've got to dash now. The old chap's returning to his computer. That means I need to stop dictating and must just sit on the keyboard nonchalantly. Yes, dictating. It has speech-recognition software. Well, how else did you think I could write all this?   Me. Ow.

First published on vivalewes.com 22nd August 2013: http://www.vivalewes.com/feline-groovy/

Pilot of the airwaves

Dearly beloved, I stand before you with my head hung low. There are things I have failed to do this week. Sins of omission, you might say. Becoming the new BBC Radio 2 'Pause for Thought' presenter was one of those things. Verily, it seemed a good idea at the time. All I had to do was write a two-minute religious reflection that would offer a thought for the day.

The 'Pause for Thought' contest was announced at the beginning of July, although I only heard about it three days before the competition ended on 5th August. A slight disadvantage but I reckoned this would help me focus on the challenge - which was (fortunately) not in the style of Big Brother or X-Factor but simply required me to write and record a thought-provoking message. "I could do that", I told myself.

To start with, everything ran very smoothly. I compiled a list of useful words from Victorian sermons, ensuring I would beseech my listeners to hold fast and hold forth to whatever it was I planned to tell them. Yea, and it was so. Unfortunately I then turned to the terms and conditions of the contest. One of the judging criteria was "Is the theological content in keeping with the basic tenets of the contributor’s stated faith position?"

Uh-oh. Not only did I need to decide what I believed in, I also needed to be consistent. This was going to be a problem.

Or was it?   Last month I visited the All Saints Centre in Lewes, which was a church until it was transformed into a community centre in 1980. (I was there to talk to the Lewes, Glynde and Beddingham Brass Band during one of their rehearsals; you'll find my interview on p25 of this month's Viva Lewes magazine unless my mother's collected all the spare copies, marked the page with a post-it note and given one to each of her friends). And only last week I took a short-cut through the churchyard in Ringmer.

I'd be the first to admit that those visits don't make me a regular churchgoer... but it did get me thinking. Much as I enjoy wandering round an old building, it's people who really constitute a church. I'd argue that churches are all about community rather than being places with a pointy roof - and it's people that matter. You could even say the All Saints Centre is as much a church today as it ever was.

Which, I suppose, is my 'stated faith position'. I like people and I like a good story. It's a bit vague, I know. It's also a bit late for the Radio 2 competition. Perhaps they'll run it again next year.

First published on vivalewes.com 8th August 2013: http://www.vivalewes.com/pilot-of-the-airwaves/

The son has got his hat on

Time once again for a cross-border adventure to see mum in West Sussex. It's a beautiful sunny day with a postcard-blue sky, so we head to a cafe on the seafront for lunch. I fancy a salad and a glass of water but I know this change from my usual routine would cause concern - apparently no man's wife can feed him as well as his mother - so I choose a toasted sandwich and a cappuccino. My usual fare. Well, I don't want her thinking the sun has gone to my head.

By the time our food arrives, the top of my scalp is beginning to feel as crispy as the bacon in the sandwich. The brie, which was supposed to remain with the bacon inside the bread, resembles volcanic lava on the plate. And my coffee is, as I feared, undrinkably hot.

I reach for my emergency hat, which is actually a paisley bandana. I imagine it makes me look rather like Johnny Depp. Mother’s expression suggests she agrees... but not in a good way. While we wait for our meals to become more temperate, we watch someone borrow one of the cafe's chairs from an adjacent table and move it next to a seafront bench. This is done with neither subterfuge nor speed, although it seems a bit like 'Taking Without Owner's Consent' to me. That's either a criminal record or bonus points depending on whether you're playing in real life or online.

Like a scene from a disaster movie, molten brie is now threatening the garnish at the edge of my plate. I wonder if Pierce Brosnan will arrive to divert the cheese before it reaches the slice of cucumber. Bubbles rise from the coffee.

After a few minutes a burly chef appears on the scene. Dressing in white wouldn't be my first choice if I wanted to look intimidating but this chap carries it off. Mind you, dressing in white wouldn't be my choice for working in a kitchen either. The person who originally thought that was a good idea clearly didn't do the washing. Anyway, chef glances around, spots his errant chair and strides across to its borrower - who much to my surprise hasn't also snaffled a couple of coffee cups and a handful of sugar cubes. There's much forced smiling. The word 'just' is used a lot. Chef returns triumphant with his chair, conjuring the spirit of Indiana Jones.

Meanwhile mum is bringing me up to speed with the major events in her life. Or, to be more accurate, the big events in her friends' lives. I nod knowingly and check my drink, wondering if the hot weather has got to everyone.

The cup is empty. My coffee has evaporated. Perhaps I need a glass of water to rehydrate it.

First published on vivalewes.com 25th July 2013: http://www.vivalewes.com/the-son-has-got-his-hat-on/

Accept your fête

The very first episode of Channel 4 television series 'Father Ted' contains one of the sitcom's most memorable scenes. Father Dougal insists on visiting 'Funland' on Craggy Island, where the world's least exciting funfair is taking place. One of the stalls is simply a cat rotating on the turntable of a record player. To avoid any doubt, a hand-painted sign says 'Spinning cat'.

That mechanised moggie is an image I often think of whenever village entertainment is mentioned – but local events shouldn’t all be written off as uninteresting. Our neighbouring village of Glynde recently hosted a couple of festivals that saw world-renowned musicians performing. There's the Ringmer Steam & Country Show in a few weeks and coming up even sooner is the Ringmer Shopkeepers' Fun Day.

This appears to have two straightforward aims. One is to raise funds for charity. The other is to encourage local people to visit the shopping precinct. Now, there's no denying our precinct is suffering from an economic downturn at the moment. I counted four empty shops this week, which is a sizeable percentage of the total. No trendy ‘pop up’ art galleries or discount luggage retailers have arrived to temporarily fill the spaces. Yet those remaining shops have managed to arrange live music, dancing, a dog agility display, a dog show, the attendance of East Sussex Fire & Rescue, special offers and free food. Pretty impressive, given the circumstances. Most intriguingly, there'll be free dog portraits as well.

For four hours on Saturday 13th July, we're promised fun for the entire family. It's easy to mock. It's easy to ask when the 'duck startling' begins and where the terrifying 'tunnel of goats' is. (Both are on fictional Craggy Island, since you ask). But I think there'll be charm and a real sense of community. You could almost say the Ringmer fun day will be more honest than larger events.

In fact, I'm already planning my visit. First, I need to disguise the cat by giving him a bone and walking him up to the precinct on a lead. Well, there’s a free portrait on offer. Unless… hmmm… I wonder if he’d sit on our old record player?

First published on vivalewes.com 11th July 2013: http://www.vivalewes.com/accept-your-fete/

Spies Like Us

According to the papers, it seems the American government - and possibly civil servants here in the UK - may have been reading my email and discovering which web sites I've visited. On one hand I'm not too bothered about the reality of this. My online activity is either work-related (boring, so our resident teenager tells me) or entertainment (slightly embarrassing, given my fondness for dystopian sci-fi and 1980s music). On the other hand, I'm less happy about the underlying assumption that I'm potentially guilty unless proven innocent. Anyway, if I wanted information about bomb-making I wouldn't search online; I'd borrow my wife's library ticket instead.

I'm also troubled by the apparent incongruity in the decision to charge 'whistleblower' Edward Snowden with espionage after he revealed the US security service was spying on just about everyone. If there was an Interpol of Irony, they'd currently be making arrests at the highest levels of government.

But all this has got me thinking about the many benefits of living here in Ringmer. There's been a lot of talk recently about people living 'off grid' to avoid being tracked by surveillance... and I reckon this village is a good place to choose. To start with, it's easier to get here than flying to Moscow. The 28 bus from Lewes runs every half hour and is happy to accept cash payments, so there's no worry about being tracked through your credit card receipts.

Being monitored via mobile phone calls can be a concern in some cases. Less so in Ringmer, where we're blessed with many mobile black spots depending on your chosen network. I reckon you could avoid receiving incriminating text messages for weeks just by hanging around at the back of the chip shop. And if you want to be completely self-sufficient, you can rent an allotment next to the electricity sub-station.

Yes, Ringmer is a perfect safe haven. If you’d like to become totally anonymous, it's the place to be. What could this mean to the free world? I need some time to think about my plan to promote Ringmer as the new Ecuador, so I head to the pub. As I arrive at the bar, I'm greeted with "Your usual, Mark?"

Oh dear. Perhaps it's not as anonymous around here as I thought.

First published on vivalewes.com 27th May 2013: http://www.vivalewes.com/spies-like-us/

Too good for words

Last week I went on holiday, complete with wife and family, to the fishing town of Padstow in Cornwall. As I sat by the edge of the harbour with a Cornish pasty, a logo on the paper bag reminded me that my lunch was actually a product with Protected Geographical Indication status across Europe.

That meant, amongst other things, it had to be made in Cornwall otherwise it couldn't legally be called a Cornish pasty. It needed to be D-shaped and crimped along one side, not with the crimping on the top like a stegosaurus or a Klingon warrior. Inside I could expect to find beef, potato, swede, onion but no other vegetables – begone, carrot! – nor any artificial additives. And indeed I didn’t.

Clotted cream and sardines also have similar protection in Cornwall. This got me thinking about some East Sussex delicacies. Our local bakery in Ringmer produces the Jack & Jill bun, which doesn't just contain fruit but is topped with icing and jam as well. Down in Lewes there are the fritters in Laporte's, a Bill's breakfast, the salads at the Buttercup Cafe, lemon drizzle cake at The Needlemakers, products at the Farmers' market... all these deserve wider recognition, I reckon.

For a while I thought about starting a campaign to turn Ringmer and Lewes into one of those protected areas for agriculture and food. Soon the whole world would know about the high quality of our local delicacies.

However, there's a catch. You see, although true Cornish pasties need to be made in Cornwall, they don't need to be baked there. They can be assembled within the county and then cooked somewhere else.

And that's why I think we should keep quiet about the benefits of Lewes and its surrounding villages. If we don't, there'll be Jack & Jill buns for sale around the globe. Our special treats won't be special any more. So the next time you buy particularly good local food, make sure you leave the shop cursing loudly. It'll drive the foodies away... and it'll be our own secret sign of appreciation.

First published on vivalewes.com 13th May 2013: http://www.vivalewes.com/too-good-for-words/