Judith Johnson
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Things that made me smile today

25/5/2012

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The brightness of this mid-May morning, emerging from rainy yesterday
The enormous venerable copper beech at the top of Southborough Common
Two chestnut-coated tiny new calves at Moorden
The hairy buttocks of a BT Engineer kneeling at the bottom of a telegraph pole at Chiddingstone Causeway
Hearing the bees buzzing on the ceanothus
Walking with my friend Petra by Bough Beech
Birdwatcher acquaintance telling me he loved rock and roll   
Rooks wheeling in close harmony over their high roost at Winkhurst Green
Two patient green/blue feathered drakes by the pond at same
Kestrel hovering at Chiddingstone Hoath while a crow watched from the hedge
Beefy young man walking a tiny dachshund at Speldhurst
Honeysuckle blooming on our garden fence
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Southborough War Memorial talk

21/5/2012

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PictureSouthborough Branch of the Royal British Legion
I had a warm welcome this evening from the Southborough Branch of the Royal British Legion - a very friendly bunch. They had invited me to speak about my book on the Southborough War Memorial, and the ongoing record on which I am working of those who died in the World Wars and since. I explained how I am still collecting material for my website on the stories of the war dead, of those not mentioned on the Memorial, and of those who survived the conflicts but who were irreparably damaged by them. On the way home this evening I was moved to hear the recording of Brian Hanrahan reporting from the Falklands War, and sadly, men and women around the world are still dying daily in armed conflicts.  I think it was Albert Einstein who said that one cannot simultaneously prevent and prepare for war.

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London Day Out

19/5/2012

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I lived in our capital city for twelve years, and whenever I go back for a visit, my heart always beats in excited anticipation as the train winds through London's shabby outskirts and into the approach to Charing Cross.  Today I was on my way to hear friend and poet Caroline Carver at the Poetry Cafe in Betterton Street, Covent Garden, but as this wasn't until 7pm I thought I'd go and see something I'd always wanted to see but never got round to - a bronze relief by Charles Sargeant Jagger at Tate Britain. Unfortunately, it was in storage, I was told. I embraced the opportunity to practise the art of acceptance! Instead I hired a bicycle and enjoyed a ride up to the British Museum along Whitehall - the first time I've cycled in London since we moved away 25 years ago.

It was one of those happy days when everyone looked like a friend or family - maybe reflecting my own determination to be in the moment and enjoy it - and, as always, there were delights everywhere. I popped into St Martin in the Fields where a rehearsal was going on for a concert of Vivaldi & Handel, and met on the way out a marvellous old lady, 87 years and full of life, originally from Naples, who had lived in London for 55 years.  Walking through the gardens by the House of Lords I found a Memorial erected by a distant relative.

I first moved to London in the mid-1970s, and while it's great to see new places, people and things (the Apple Store in Covent Garden bright and buzzing with enthusiasts of all ages), it's always somehow comforting to see those that haven't changed in those nearly 40 years: the umbrella shop near the British Museum; the Pizza Express in Coptic Street, whose Italian waiters were always so kind and welcoming when we were new young parents; Food For Thought in Neal Street, mecca for wholefoodies.

And so to the poetry reading - Caroline Carver, who lives and works in Cornwall, was reading from her 4th collection, Tikki Tikki Man (Ward Wood Publishing, 2012). I find her a writer of great integrity and sincerity, and hearing her read these poems, telling the story of how two children deal with the after effects of child abuse, was a powerful experience. It's always an added benefit to hear from the poet how a work came into being, and, as a fellow listener pointed out, this difficult subject was conveyed in poems of great delicacy and beauty. Well worth the rail fare from Tonbridge!

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First steps in Poland - snapshot of Wroclaw and Poznan

12/5/2012

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When I was offered a place on a short familiarisation trip to Poland, I jumped at the  chance. I have had visiting Eastern Europe on my wish-list ever since I was at school, and this would be 3 days in a country I'd never set foot in. We would be flying to Wroclaw, then travelling on by train to Poznan. I had two slight connections to these cities. Wroclaw, known for some time as Breslau, was the birthplace of Anita Lasker-Wallfisch, whose book Inherit the Wind includes an account of her time as a member of the women's orchestra in Auschwitz. I heard her speak to a group of Sixth Form girls once. Needless to say, that was a powerfully moving experience.  Poznan (formerly Posen) was the birthplace and home of my grandmother's first cousins, Alfred and Lucy. Their mother Lucy Katharine Wakefield (daughter of my great-grandparents John Howard and Maria Wakefield) was married to Count Hugo Radolinski in July 1863 in London.

Wroclaw

We arrived at Wroclaw's ultra-modern looking airport in the morning and checked into our hotel, situated between the Academy of Fine Arts and the old Prussian fort, currently being excavated. Opposite was the Panorama Raclawicka, a truly prodigious feat of painting by Jan Styka and Wojciech Kossak (and many assistants!) in 1893 and 1894, and depicting the battlefield of Raclawice in 1794. The perspectives and 3-D effects of the painting are quite breathtaking.

We then had a guided tour of the Cathedral Island (gas lamps are lit nightly by a traditionally-dressed lamplighter, taking two hours to light and, later, two hours to put out). 70% of the city was damaged in the Second World War, including the Cathedral, but like so many other parts of mainland Europe, has been lovingly reconstructed since. Walking on further,  and through the old town, the Stare Miasto, with its Town Hall and Main Square, the ghosts of past occupants, whether Austro-Hungarian, Prussian or Nazi, seemed still present.

The old covered market, or Hala Targowa, on Piaskowa, was built in 1908. Its interior arches were reminiscent of the Modernisme-designed workers' co-operative building I'd seen in Cambrils in Spain (see Travel page). We only had time for a look at the ground-floor stalls, ranging from a row of butchers with unfamiliar joints of meat and healthy-looking fresh fruit & veg to honey and tea stalls, but upstairs were enticing glimpses of various tiny shops.

Wroclaw,  like Poznan, is a lively university town, and our whistle-stop tour wasn't going to be able to give us more than a glimpse of this, but there were plenty of busy, lively-looking cafes, restaurants and bars in evidence. We enjoyed various Polish dishes during our visit including zurek(soup with eggs and white sausage, served inside a small round loaf of bread!), pierogi (large ravioli-type filled envelopes), and plenty of red cabbage (our last dinner in Poznan delicious roast duck with cranberry-stuffed apple and Poznan-style steamed yeast dumplings at the Brovaria Restaurant in the Stary Rynek).

We whizzed by various museums and art-galleries, and I definitely plan to go back to get a closer look at the area's culture and history. One fascinating stop, on our last morning, was the stunning Centennial Hall on the outskirts of the city, designed in 1911 by Max Berg and completed in 1913. It was built after an appeal by Frederick of Germany to commemorate the stand against Napoleon, and had the biggest span of roof in concrete of its time. Over the years since, amongst other things it has been a venue for Cold War party conferences, trade shows, opera and rock concerts. Nearby are the old Film School buildings.
 www.wroclaw-life.com
Poznan

The ghosts of the past here include the lost Jewish community. Pre WW2, this was 20% of the total population. Now, we were told, there are only 15 Jews resident in Poznan, and the synagogue, though the exterior is still standing, was turned into a swimming-pool after the Holocaust.  For those who are interested in an account of a Polish Jewish community that didn’t survive the War years, I can recommend Konin by Theo Richmond.

But back to the present. We stayed in the stylishly modern 4* Hotel Andersia.  I got up before breakfast for a solitary swim in the pool on the 2nd floor and met some felt-hatted young men in the lift who were on their way back from a night's merry-making!

On this wet weekend, we had another fairly fast guided walking tour around this city. Being a history-head, I hankered after a couple of interesting looking museums we passed, which I would like to go back and see, including the Museum of the 1918-19 Wielkopolska Uprising, and the Museum of Musical Instruments. There are many more here! We did see the Cathedral (as with Wroclaw, situated on an island), site of the beginning of Christianity, in 966 AD, in Poland, and burial place of its first kings, the Malta Lake, where people from the city go for watersports, walks, picnics etc, and the Old Breweryshopping centre. Our guide explained that the latter has become a meeting place for all age-groups, and the modern art on display is worth seeing. There is a popular jazz club in Poznan, The Blue Note, opened in 1998, where the music is apparently excellent, according to our guide, who was also an afficionado of the local football team Lech Poznan, very well-loved by its loyal fans.

Poznan has introduced a half-price weekend once a year, when hotels, restaurants and attractions offer everything at half-price to encourage tourists to come for a city break and get a taste of the city. Go for it!
www.poznan.pl/mim/public/turystyka/index.html?lang=en
 www.poznan.pl/comeandenjoy/en/

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Planet Earth

12/5/2012

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Just joined up with my American cousin on Facebook, and saw a beautiful u-tube on his Wall of our planet - it inspired me to go and find my Scrapbook, and a wonderful poem, by a 12 year old schoolgirl, that I pasted in some years ago. Can't find her name on Google, Facebook or Twitter, so if you're out there, Leonora, I hope you don't mind me sharing this. If you do and contact me, I will of course delete it if you'd rather!

The Earthsick Astronaut
He is yearning for his earth senses.
He wants the smell of burning wood to swirl up
And tickle his nose
Like a coarse, rough feather from a bird on the earth;
He wants the sight of a fire,
The flickering fish tails
That make his eyes see nothing else;
He wants to taste bacon, the real bacon,
Tingling on his tongue to evoke
The smell, the sound, the flavour ...
He wants the touch of cold air on his skin;
Air, a free spirit, teasing, running;
A brush-past kiss on a warm cheek is
His memory;
And then ... the sad things;
Gravestones like babies' teeth, yet
Decayed with lichen and moss.
But still he is yearning,
Yearning for air, for fire,
For Earth.
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Kevin Crossley-Holland

7/5/2012

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PictureMediaeval Christmas Fair in Siegburg
As I've got older and find more and more books I want to read, I've always reserved some space on my Book Pile (tottering as it is!) for new children's literature. In my last job there was a superb library with an exemplary librarian, blessed with a generous budget, so there was always an exciting shelf on the library counter with New Books displayed on it.  That's how I came to discover the joys of Kevin Crossley-Holland's marvellous Arthur trilogy, starting with The Seeing Stone, later followed by Gatty's Tale. These are the sort of books you treasure, that will never be in the de-cluttering bag, though from time to time I do spot them in the charity shops. When I do I snap them up, ready for giving to young people I come across who love reading. And, because I want to support the author and help keep him in bread and butter, I also buy new copies from time to time for birthday and Christmas presents.

If you haven't read them yet, I do heartily recommend them, for  "children of all ages", as it used to say in the Puffin books! And for those poets and poetry-lovers among you, he also writes beautiful poetry. 
http://www.kevincrossley-holland.com

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World Book Night - A Tale of Two Cities

2/5/2012

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23 April is St George's Day, the birthday of William Shakespeare, my father, and my niece Kelly amongst others. This year it was also my second World Book Night, this time as a giver of A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens. I managed to give away a good few copies of my box of 24 beautiful new paperback copies,
donated/sponsored by the BBC and the book publishing industry. We were asked not to give copies away to Book Club buddies and suchlike (all of whom have enormous book piles and patronise libraries, bookshops and charity shops already!) but to try and give them to people who may not normally buy books. I gave them to every likely looking person I came across on my way home from yoga that rainy night, and later in the week, including a delivery driver to the Chinese takeaway on Camden Road, youngsters filling shelves at the Halal supermarket and Tesco Express, a young Polish woman hurrying along with shopping bags, a guy in a hoodie in High Brooms, the barmaid at the High Brooms Tavern (two customers at the bar firmly but courteously refused copies!), a nice young man serving in Marino's Fish Bar, a waiter and customer in the Indian restaurant, two men leaning contemplatively out of a ground-floor window taking the night air (one of whom asked me if I was married!), a bus-driver at Speldhurst, and the friendly DHL deliveryman and postman at work, both of whom enjoyed last year's offering. 

I said to all of them that the language could be Victorian and old-fashioned, but please to persevere with this favourite work of Dickens himself - it's a cracking story of the heights and depths of humanity, and anyone who can finish it without a good few tears must have skipped a lot, is all I can say! And a big thank you to World Book Night - it really does give you a huge warm glow to be lucky enough to give books away like this and see the look of delight on people's faces!


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    Lifelong bookworm, love writing too. Have been a theatrical agent and reflexologist among other things, attitude to life summed up by Walt Whitman's MIRACLES.

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