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Bletchley Park… it’s a secret.

| Mairead

22 7b

(The big house)

We’re in Bletchley Park (near Milton Keynes) the home of World War II code breakers and the birthplace of digital computers. Ciara and I are sitting in Hut 4, having lunch and resting after a guided tour. Denis is on his second tour… of the Computing Museum section. Bletchley is a very interesting place. Way back in 1937 the big house and about 500 acres went up for sale when the owners died. The estate was divided into lots and a local builder bought fifty acres along with the big house –  he wanted to knock the house and put up a housing estate.

22 7g

(Hut 1.. with part of its protective wall)

The secret service at the time were watching Hitler and considered war a likely possibility. They needed to be in a position to do secret things and not be noticed and Bletchley Park offered the perfect solution. It was forty miles from London so protected by distance. It was close to a railway station. It was halfway between Oxford and Cambridge – where the smart puzzle solvers were to be found. And I can’t remember why but it was in the perfect location for telephone communication, and people who were smart communication device builders (telephone engineers.) A compulsory purchase order meant that there’s no housing estate and the big house still stands.

22 7c

(An Enigma machine)

So the secret stuff began… when the British found a German coding machine called the Enigma. Also, three Polish secret service officers, realising they would soon be invaded by Germany, gave information they had uncovered about a very similar coding machine to the British and French governments. With that information smart puzzle solver Alan Turing took four months to break the puzzle of the Enigma and uncover how it worked. But that was just the first step….. they had to build a machine (with more help from the Polish secret service) that would turn the coded messages into German language messages and then into English. This was in 1940 and for most of the rest of the war all messages sent from the German military were coded using the Enigma, thinking they were secret. It gave the British military a big advantage.

22 7f

(The lake with the big house in the background)

By the end of the war there were 8,000 people working at Bletchley Park. Everyone who worked here signed the official secrets act and had to keep the secret of Bletchley and they did. Stephen, our guide told a story of a recent woman visitor whose mother had worked in the Japanese message-breaking hut. The woman told him that she had only recently discovered that her mother worked for the secret service and spoke fluent Japanese. Today Bletchley is run by enthusiasts and volunteers who maintain the grounds, the house and the huts, they also run the tours and make the sandwiches.

Take the first step, it’ll give you a big advantage, Mairead.

Ring, ring… River river… Lies and good manners.

| Mairead

22 7d

(Bath Cathedral)

We’ve moved into England, the journey that should have taken an hour and a half took four hours. There was an accident, traffic got backed up and so we were stationary for two hours. There was nowhere to go as we were on a motorway and when we took the next exit there was almost stand still traffic there too. It could have been worse, the car next to us had steam billowing out through the bonnet and water gushing onto the road. I can’t imagine how long she had to wait for a tow-truck and even when it did get there, where would it go?

22 7i

(Hot air balloons over Bath)

All this meant that we arrived in Bath just in time for dinner. We had booked an early table at a vegetarian restaurant, so we could take the Bizarre Bath Tour. It’s a comedy tour and the guide went to great lengths at the outset to ensure we understood that there would be no history. The tour consists of about twenty of us following him around the Bath streets while he told lies or performed some magic! There was the escapologist rabbit (stuffed) and the key that opens up a prize of £300 (we lost, he won) and the volunteer’s ring that accidentally floats up into the Bath night sky attached to a helium balloon. I thought it was really funny…  I’m sure our travel insurance will cover a new engagement ring.

22 7j

(Our guide about to perform the £300 trick)

On Saturday we took a bus tour and it turns out Bath is where English “good manners” began. Seemingly a gambler, called Richard Nash, got the job of Bath’s entertainment manager (it was called Master of Ceremonies then…) in the early 1700’s (the previous manager lost the job when he was shot in a duel). Nash promoted Bath as a place where you could come for the spa waters and the dancing and regardless of your social class you would be comfortable in the knowledge that the other classes knew their place….

22 7k

(Seen in the Jane Austin Museum… manners?)

I also learned that the river running through Bath, the Avon, is not the same as the one in Stratford-upon-Avon. Turns out there are lots of rivers called Avon in England and there’s a really good reason. The Romans when they arrived, pointed to the river and asked “What’s that called?” and the natives said “Avon.” The Romans assumed that was the name of the river, but Avon was the word for river, any river. So the river Avon is really the river River.

Don’t make assumptions, Mairead.

Hens are great teachers… listen to a hen today.

| Mairead

 

(The menu)

It’s very early in the morning as I write from our hotel in Swansea. I seem to have jet lag without crossing a time zone, probably the traffic noises, the pillow and the light peeping in around the curtain. We had dinner last night at an American Italian chain called Frankie and Benny’s. There were old black and white pictures all over the walls and on the menu of the original Frankie and Benny, who will be turning in their graves if they ever find out. It was an imitation of an Italian run American diner.

 

(The deals)

Our server worked hard entertaining us like an American server would and I was bothered when I realised we had no change to tip him. I left some euro. In this country the euro is fake money and next to useless, but it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it? Except I was thinking, “I have to give him a tip.”

(Hello real hen)

All this reminded me of my hair and the hens (most things remind me of the hens :)) How we humans imitate something (or someone) we think is great when all along there’s something great right under our hat. Sometimes we do the imitation so well we don’t even realise we’re doing it. We straighten our hair, we curl our hair, we comb-over our hair, we dress in a certain way, we act in a certain way, we step into a certain role and we pretend it’s us… We’re fooling no one and anyway the real us might just be a little more attractive.

(Hens get tired too and need to rest a leg)

The hens walk their own funny walk. They hug no one they don’t want to hug. They go to bed when they want to and they ignore all unwanted interaction. I’m on the hunt this morning for a hen-experience! An ordinary real Welsh cafe for my breakfast. One where my table might be a bit sticky to touch, might not be the same colour as all the rest, may even have a wonky leg… but the person serving me is real… and possibly a little cranky. And I’ll be paying attention to what it is I find attractive about that!

Be your own cranky self, Mairead.

 

Grow your own… dreams.

| Mairead

18 7f

(Ripening tomato)

There were a lot of things growing while I was in the Wilderness, tomatoes, courgettes, lettuce, weeds, to name a few. Each night as I watered the plants in the greenhouse I was able to notice their progress. At first I just noticed the one orange ripening tomato and little yellow flowers. Then I noticed a hidden green tomato. It was green so it blended in with the leaves. But then I started to notice the flowers as they turned from bright yellow into dull green… into tomatoes.

18 7a

(The yellow flowers turning as they become tomatoes)

Of course, I’ve done biology in school and I know that the bees and other insects pollinate the flowers and that’s how the fruit is created but seeing it happen in front of my eyes made me pause…. The same thing was happening outside with the courgettes. As the beautiful orange-yellow flower was dying it was being pushed forward by the growth of a little courgette plant. The courgette plants didn’t even have the benefit of the warmth of the greenhouse or the regularity of my watering (although the rain was pretty regular.) They just got on with the job with only nature to assist.

18 7b

(One of the flowers has turned into a tomato)

Each day as I wandered around outside, chatting with the hens or just experiencing the calm I noticed these growing things and I wondered what I was noticing. Was it the fading colours of young flowers turning into the nourishing strength of fruit and vegetable? Was it the power of nature that allowed the plants to do their thing? Was it the daily slow growth step by hidden step that resulted in bounty? Was it the cycle of planting a seed, feeding it, watering it, giving it light and heat, allowing it to produce?

18 7e

(The courgette… notice the little plant at the base of the flower)

Was it the intention of the grower, one day long ago who decided he really wanted to grow tomatoes and he took the first step and bought the seeds? When the grower returned to only one ripe tomato he told me that he had met a woman on his travels who had decided she wanted tomatoes. She took a lot less care than the grower and already within a very short time she was collecting and sharing lots of ripe tomatoes. She lived in a place with lots of sun. Growth is taking a little longer in Ireland this year… lucky us, we get time to enjoy every step of the cycle!

“….the best time to plant a tree is twenty years ago. The second best time is now…” African Proverb.

Plant your seed, Mairead.

Ode to the girls….

| Mairead

17 7a

(Contentment –  even with green hair)

I’m back home now and I’m hen-less and egg-less. Will go to the supermarket later for the eggs but we won’t be getting hens. Some people and animals come into your life for just a short time and then they leave. But not before passing on a message or a lesson. What I can remember best from the hens is their one step after the other approach to life…… Sure they were cautious, but once the danger (usually me) passed by or stopped and backed away, then they continued one step after the other.

17 7b

(Take the next step)

Another thing about the hens, they did their own foraging. Each day I presented them with a shovelful of feed and some “treats” but that wasn’t all they ate. They spent a lot of their time scratched around for tasty worms and insects. They could have so easily sat back and eaten the food provided but they took nourishment into their own hands, they maintained their independence and probably their good health.

17 7c

(Celebrate the mistake)

Although I let them out in the mornings (or in the afternoon if I wanted an egg) I didn’t put them back in their pen, they went back in themselves, in their own time. I locked the gate when I found them tucked up together in their house. And the eggs… whenever possible they left their eggs in a place of their choosing, where I never found them.

17 7e

(Find the beauty)

They remind me of Dr. Viktor Frankl who wrote Man’s Search for Meaning having survived life in a concentration camp. Everything can be taken from a man or a woman but one thing: the last of human freedoms to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way. Viktor E. Frankl.

He could easily have included hens, Mairead.

Wherever I go, there I am.

| Mairead

16 7a

(The girls up-close)

I drove to the local town this morning. Well it had been a while since’s my last coffee shop and I thought I’d better keep up the habit. Also, there might be an opportunity to talk to someone…. There was. I met a Spanish woman. She was from the north-west of Spain and was living in Ireland. As you can imagine I wondered how she was coping with the weather, so I asked. It rains as much in her part of Spain as it does in Ireland but it’s the cold wind she doesn’t like. Then I got talking to two lovely women in the second-hand bookshop. For little or nothing I got an English school book and two hardback craft books.

16 7b

(Another egg!)

Afterwards I came home and let the hens out. They were very happy to see me and stayed close so I could take a picture. I’m going to miss them when I leave. I’m also going to miss walking out in the garden and being surrounded by trees with only the sounds of the stream and the wild birds. That always calms me and it doesn’t seem to matter if its raining. I’ve been reading another book this week called The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin, where the author spends a year researching how she can become happier. She’s concerned she doesn’t appreciate what she has and gets quite short-tempered with her husband and her children. In the book for each month she choses a theme and then sets herself several tasks. For example, in January the theme is Boost Energy and one of the tasks is Go to sleep earlier; May’s theme is Be Serious about Play and one of the tasks, Find more fun. 

16 7d

(The first ripe tomato in the greenhouse)

Anyway, I haven’t finished reading yet but it’s quite an entertaining book and I’m sure I’ll refer to it again (she has a blog at http://www.happiness-project.com). In everything we read (or hear or see) our own message jumps out at us and here in the wilderness I have been in the perfect place to notice a message for me. I thought living in the middle of nowhere on my own would be very different to living in a town with my family. For starters I thought I’d get lots done, I thought there would be fewer distractions (turns out I adore distractions and create them when there’s none!) Of course, it is a very different experience, on the outside, just not on the inside. Wherever I go I bring my habits and patterns with me and a new location doesn’t change that.

16 7e

(A very graceful flower)

The message I got (so far) from The Happiness Project? It doesn’t matter where you are you can be happy (or not), you can be productive (or not), you can be distracted (or not) it’s up to you to choose. The location doesn’t choose for you. I also like the quote, from Enjoy now, one of March’s tasks, “The fun part doesn’t come later, now is the fun part.”

I’m back home now, Mairead.

Cats, one mouse, a fox and two hens – it all ends well… oh, not for the mouse.

| Mairead

(Our favourite position on the sofa)

I was sitting on the sofa this morning writing when I heard one of the cats meowing. It was a plaintive meow. As both the garden door and the secret cat window were open I ignored him, but he increased the volume and the other two cats who had been asleep beside me on the sofa shot out through the door. As this is a little odd I put down my laptop and followed. There standing on the threshold was the third cat with a mouthful of mouse. I have no idea how he managed to meow with his mouth full but fair dues to him. I had been warned that there might be a few gifts brought into the house so I reacted fast and shut the door (and closed the secret window too.) I like my gifts covered in chocolate or made from inanimate materials.

(Isn’t she beautiful?)

When the coast was clear (of cats and mice) I went outside to consider the weather. I like to walk when it’s dry but I’ll also give it a go in a slight drizzle. There was no rain and it was a little warmer outside than in so, decision made. But first…. I checked on the hens. We are developing quite a close relationship, me and the hens, it’s mainly one-sided but I have patience and hope to win them over before I leave. The only reason I was checking was that I saw what I thought was a fox yesterday afternoon in the garden. Don’t foxes only come out at dusk? He ran off through the fence and I found the hens happily pecking in another part of the garden. After that I went out to check them more often and even locked them in early last night… just in case.

(A little treasure)

Then when I got up this morning I considered leaving them in their pen but because I had locked them up early and I could see them waiting, looking in the direction of the house anticipating their freedom – I chickened out…. and opened the pen. It seemed cruel to keep them in when I wasn’t completely sure there was danger. So there I was checking them again… but I couldn’t find them. I searched every bit of the garden, no hens. Panic started to set in and I searched again for signs of a crime scene (feathers and fluids). Fortunately, nothing. Before yesterday I had no fear for the hens and never stopped to notice where they went during the day. I tried to remember where I used to see them but it was always in different places coming into view just as I rounded a corner. Not today.

(I didn’t get a picture of the fox but this is a deer I saw later… that orange colour, that’s the deer)

How was I going to tell their humans? How was I going to cope with the emotional fallout – mine, I mean. Then I remembered my goto person with hen experience and I called Denis. He was very reassuring, mentioned hiding places in the garden and fence-hoping for possible juicy worms outside the property. He suggested garden search first followed by road to neighbour’s house search, followed by boundary search while wearing wellingtons, rain coat and employing a special hen call – CHuck, chuck, chuck, chuck. So, I got dressed up and had hardly reached the greenhouse when I met the girls rounding a corner. Oh the joy! I cheered and ran towards them hoping for a hug… they stopped in mid step, one leg raised…  I stopped. They stared…. with a look I interpreted as Wait right there, we’re only here because you called, what have you got for us?

(Safe)

So I ran back to the kitchen and gathered what I thought would be treats for hens and laid them out in the grass in front of the girls. Not sure if my obvious loving demonstrations are causing stress in our relationship or possibly they don’t like sunflower seeds, carrots and porridge because they didn’t eat my offering, they just kept staring at me.

I am so happy but I think I’ll keep them locked up, Mairead.

Sunshine, water and an excellent lawnmower.

| Mairead

(Some blue sky)

Yesterday provided a few little challenges for me… or maybe I provided them myself. It was sunny again so I figured this was a perfect opportunity to cut the grass. Two days of rain followed by a day of sunshine caused a grass growth spurt and I could only imagine how much taller it would grow if left unattended. (Maybe that was my first mistake… imagining something bad.) So, I put down my reading and went in search of the lawn mower. It was a petrol one and I’d used one before so I pressed the button in the front three times, moved the safety handle to the main handle and pulled the string. It started first time, excellent. That was the last excellent of the experience.

(This tree is the cat’s favourite scratching post)

Although I did notice that the garden was big, I only noticed it in an appreciative way… what great space and what wonderful possibilities. I didn’t notice it in the square yardage kind of way. I had completed about a tenth of the area when I decide to take a break. Thinking I had been cutting for at least an hour I checked the clock… twenty minutes had passed. Even though that probably indicated the whole job could be finished in three and a half hours and not ten, I still felt disappointed… it would feel like ten hours! This might have been a good time to stop cutting the grass. Instead, I had a big glass of water along with a couple of pages of reading and then returned to the job.

(Seedlings in the greenhouse)

A few more twenty-minute slots (remarkably I always seemed to be ready for a break in twenty-minute slots) and I came across a conundrum. In order to water the plants in the greenhouse there was a garden hose running between it and the outside tap. It ran across the lawn. When I realised it was in my path I wondered what the best possible course of action might be. I wondered would I un-plug the hose and lay it beside the lawn until I had finished cutting. I wondered would I just ignore it – it lay in a shallow groove which could mean it had been in place for previous cuttings. I wondered would I lift the lawn mower over it, like lifting a buggy up over some steps. I wondered all this while continuing to cut the grass. (Notice I didn’t stop to make a decision…. I continued to cut which was also a decision) And before long I was cutting more than the grass. I cut the garden hose. It was spectacular and very wet (the water pressure here is excellent.)

(Great sprinkler… not so great garden hose)

I changed my clothes and then continued to cut the grass but my heart wasn’t in it. I was imagining how the plants in the greenhouse would die because I couldn’t water them. I’d seen two watering cans in the shed but what if they were the special watering cans used only for weed killer, there might be some weedkiller left in them, I couldn’t use them either. I was very glad of the distraction of a phone call from my friend. In a very unsympathetic tone she asked Why would you cut the grass? I’m going back to my Stop Thinking Start Living book, it’s possible I’ve been thinking too much….

Oh for the simple life, living in the country with some cats and some hens…. oh yea, Mairead.

Talking out loud to no one listening.

| Mairead

(Harvesting berries)

What a different kind of day – today the sun shone! It does seem to change everything or at least it changes my attitude, my frame of mind, like a frame changes a picture. So I was able to hunt and gathered today… well not really hunt. But I definitely gathered – raspberries and eggs. Successful on both fronts. The rain seems to have given the raspberries a bit of a boost because I hadn’t seen any yesterday and today there were loads… well, more than 100! They’re all in the freezer waiting for the jam maker. And I now have enough eggs for pancakes, I intend to make them tomorrow, possibly for breakfast, yum.

(Two!)

As I type one of the cats is sitting on my knee with his chin on my arm, not the most comfortable position for typing but very cute! He did the same thing yesterday so maybe this is something he does all the time with his humans. Sometimes when he puts up his paw to wash it I think he’s going to start editing what I’m typing. SO cute.

(Synchronised hen walking)

When I arrived here I noticed the peace and quiet and was very happy, but now I’ve started doing weird things. I’ve started turning on the radio (not too weird); when anyone rings on the phone (even a wrong number) I seem to be trying to keep them on the line a bit longer (kinda weird?);  and I’m talking to the cats and the hens (too weird?) The cats are ignoring me but the hens are beginning to follow me. Well to be honest at first they were running away from me, I’d sneak up on them pretending I was taking a picture but really I was just looking for a chat but they’d scatter. In case you didn’t know it, hens can’t run very fast and it’s kinda comical when they try because while their feet are lifting their heads are nodding. The two hens have a way of synchronising their movements so it looks like they’re dancing – probably to distract me because when I start laughing I give up trying to get near them!

(Can’t remember what these are?)

Maybe I’ll try talking to the fish tomorrow, they already look quite excited every time I approach their bowl…. oh maybe its time to feed them!

Hello! Anyone there? Mairead.