||[Apr. 12th, 2017|09:38 pm]
Sitting in the bar of the Pride of Bruges, on the Humber, typing offline ready to post when I'm ready to claim my half hour of free wifi -
After a mad frenzy of packing and preparation, wrangling last minute client demands, topping up my mobile phone for the first time since I bought it several years ago (which we did at the big out-of-town Tesco, though next time - if we ever reach a next time - will be easier)... Well, yes, after everything else and setting off later than we meant to, a very pleasant and easy drive to Hull.
Roger (whom in another place you may know as durham_rambler, but who has not yet rambled to DreamWidth) had downloaded the Radio2 Folk Awards to his phone, so that we could listen to it through the car audio: I am so impressed at his mastery of the technology, and it worked very smoothly, apart from an interlude when his bluetooth hearing aids hijacked the signal, so I never heard Nick Lowe paying tribute to Ry Cooder, but we got it straightened out in time to hear Ry Cooder explaining how much he owed to Tom Paley, so that was all right.
And we had folk music (within Radio2's understanding thereof, but I enjoyed the interval sampling of the finalists for the Young Folk Award) driving through spring in northern England. The fields are very green, except where the rape is coming into bloom, where they are eye-searing yellow. The hedges are mostly green, though the blackthorn is a tattered lace of white. The verges are studded with yellow which surely can't be cowslips, not in those numbers? There's the odd clump of primroses. Remind me again why we are leaving England right now?
But of course if we were home,we'd be working, not going out enjoying all this. Likewise, in a properly organised world, we'd have taken time to sample the culture which Hull currently offers: instead, we headed straight for the ferry, drove on board with hardly any queueing, and here we are in the bar, I have had a cup of tea and the pianist is playing Name That Tunee' (we've just had Hotel California).
Later: Dinner in 'The Kitchen' buffet restaurant, and a bottle of La Sauvageonne, a Gerard Bertrand rosé, described on the menu as biodynamic and on the label as 'en conversion' (in the process of becoming organic): I have no idea whether these two things are compatible, but it was a pretty pale pink, maybe a touch sweeter than I would choose for drinking alone, but this gave it the weight to stand up to the various random items we selected from the buffet.
As the light faded from the sky, we watched Spurn Head slide away behind us.
This entry cross-posted from Dreamwidth: comments always welcome, at either location.