she sings and sighs as the shuttle flies

My Indefinite Leave to Remain document has just been delivered. So that's that. 10 years of permission to remain and no restrictions on what we can do. 

We will apply to become citizens next year, because you never know when UKIP might gain power and retrospectively strip settlement rights from nasty foreigners what the future holds, and also because we believe in being committed to the community in which you live, if you're allowed. 

I though this timely piece in the Guardian captured for me very nicely the pernicious uncertainty in the whole process (though as ever, don't read the comments). Ridiculously privileged though we are, this uncertainty has touched most of the past 7 years. I'm really going to enjoy living with the knowledge that we can keep building our little lives here. 

I spent most of July either in Australia or in a book. Besides which, let's face it, the weather in July this year was pretty rotten. So the August sunshine has been very well timed, and beloved and I have tried to make the most of it. Saturday afternoon we had a long ramble up the Thames to Port Meadow, across the Meadow (which is now dry in the centre!) to Walton Manor, through North Oxford to Parks. Here we found nothing so lovely to do as to lie in some dappled sunlight eating strawberries and listening to the obligingly rustle-y leaves of a nearby tree. Eventually the sun began to slip behind some clouds and we meandered home via G&Ds, where we acquired some mango sorbet.

As we walked along the river I was once more reminded about how often I'm inclined to play about on the river in something with oars. Don't get me wrong, punting is clearly the superior means by which to propel oneself up and down the Cherwell. However last year half a dozen of us took out some rowboats on Grassmere, and had a smashing time: I wanted to try it again. Maybe it's the excitement in Ratty's little speech I find so enticing:

'Nice? It's the only thing,' said the Water Rat solemnly, as he leant forward for his stroke. 'Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing - absolutely nothing - half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. Simply messing,' he went on dreamily: 'messing - about - in - boats; messing - '

So today we went to Magdalen Bridge and DIDN'T take out a punt. We took out a little rowboat. First up we discovered the disadvantage of the rowboat:  you take up much more river width. So when the August Sunday afternoon has turned golden and glorious, and dozens of clueless tourists and summer students decide to try punting/rowing/peddaloes, you are rendered unable to manouvre, because they are in your oar space. However once we were south of the Botanic Gardens, the extra river width and the distance from the boathouse combined to give us much more freedom, and we rowed happily past Christ Church meadow, watching light glint off the water and making the meadow grasses glow. 

We had a midriver picnic of strawberries, pimm's and goat's cheese with crackers, and then braved the Thames! Then back up the Cherwell and home, this time taking the Hilda's branch, which was less crowded. exactlyhalf rowed most of the way our, and I rowed along the Thames and back. Combine this with today's gym visit and I'm beginning to feel my muscles creak. However after four months of driving every day and not having time to exercise, I'm enjoying the feeling of tired muscles and achey joints that signify I'm moving again.

Give me a dodo and call me Thursday - I'm off to Swindon for a training job.

*is happy*

We have had a magical night.

I remember when I first saw Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds play live, and was amazed to 'see' how the music was put together (for example, the striking of a long metal pipe to produce the high, ringing notes of doom in Red Right Hand). Tonight's concert was another such experience.

We went to the Royal Festival Hall for a long awaited concert by Tindersticks. Other than a one-off concert in 2006, the band has hardly performed live since the release of 2003's Waiting for the Moon. Since then there have been solo projects and rumours of dissolution, but half of the original band have now returned to the studio, with some new artists, to produce The Hungry Saw. Tonight was our first Tindersticks gig, and though we knew this was not entirely the same band who produced some amazing albums, anticipation was nevertheless high.

After a surprisingly bad trip to London (52 minutes to get from Gloucester Green to the park and ride? What?), and a frenzied dash through the underground to Southbank, we settled into our seats (in row 8!), me with a glass of rose in hand. The guest act was very good (Sarah Lowes), with some whimsical numbers and a multi-talented instrumentalist to accompany her. Then the main event began.

The number of chairs on stage had me dancing with excitement in the warm-up. Tindersticks' music is full of complex orchestration, and amongst the line up changes with this album was the loss of Dickon, the violinist. Without his lush, aching strings it would hardly be the same. So imagine my joy when no less than 8 bow wielding musicians slowly made their way onto stage. David sat at the keyboard and began to play a short melody. Two violinists joined in. Thomas and Dan (the new faces) on drums and bass, Neil on guitar and finally Stuart arrived slowly on stage and piece by piece the sound grew, changed, took on layers and depth. Cello, saxophone, trombone, glockenspiel. The band was here.

The set was mostly comprised of new material - the album was only released on Monday - and this was an amazing way to hear an album for the first time. The stage held 13 musicians, whose opening number showed the incredible intensity of the music they could produce, but this was a show of measure and restraint, now breaking out into freedom, now reining in. Sometimes it was just the drums and bass, providing a thrumming heart beat below the whispered intimacy of Stuart's voice. At other times the strings would join in to swell the melody, then in came brass as the frenzy and despair wrought itself. Trumpet and trombone added high, top notes of desperation, fading to a low moan as the energy ebbed.

Tindersticks is heavy stuff, but not without humour. An unexpected choice of old song to play was 'My Sister' - a woe-filled spoken word tale of the singer's sister who is blinded at five, orphaned at 12, crippled at 20 and dead at 32 - with some wicked dead-pan delivery. This is not one of my favourites (there are many competing for that spot), but I was astonished by the musical complexity behind the narrative that was brought to my attention by having it so in front of me.

And then, there was the incredible energy, the physicality of the performance. There is an exuberance to this band, even when singing about having the devil cut our your heart, or searching the world for the lost voice of a lover. A driving energy is provided by every single musician, so much so that I found myself short of breath after some songs. In others I was holding it, wondering just how long this song could hang suspended, held only by the gentle heart-break of a violin and the murmur of Stuart's voice.

When it was over, we walked to Victoria through a surprisingly balmy London night with the Carr sisters, who regularly worship at this alter. First or fiftieth concert though, we were all wowed, and somewhat saddened that this was no longer in the future for anticipation.

A glorious weekend, in which I
- had a most bracing walk throug the ice puddles to Godstow lock, learning on the way that the Perch 'aims' to reopen in summer
- Finally saw Serenity, while enjoying Wife Soup. Yay River!
- Enjoyed defeating dracula (even if by the end I was getting impatient to start watching Serenity
- Went to the gym twice
- Got my meringue making mojo back just in time for the banquet (mmm, chocolate pavlova roll...)
- Made the most awesome lasagne ever (I roasted my own peppers! I bechameled the hell out of a sauce!)
- Enjoyed the above with just enough cider and wine and good company
- Learned (if you can stretch 'the weekend' to '1pm on Monday) there will be a new Tindersticks album. Album AND tour. Am giddy with glee over this.

Now, back to work!

ETA giddy glee slightly tempered by learning DH has left the group, which means I'll never see him sing 'sweet memory'. *small sob*

Highlights of a day in London
- Seeing a real estate agent called Hotblack Desiato and nearly falling over laughing. Hotblack Desiato! Refrained from going in to ask if the manager was in, or still dead for tax purposes
- Donuts at the Camden stable market. mmm. Custard filled.
- Crazy old journals and newspaper clippings in same.
- Ordering a flat white and not being asked what that is.
- Drinking said flat white and finding it not only delicous, but adorned with a perfect rosette.
- Drinking a beer with Australian friends at the beer wharf on Australia Day.
- Finding my keys were actually at home, and not lost in London.
- Cellaring the dandelion wine to be savoured with the Norman Conquests.

Lowlights
- There range of Docs available in Camden is disappointing!

I did a quick head count in the one calm moment when everyone was sitting for the play, and there were fully 60 people in the Bayne room! Suddenly, the plan to perform our reduced LOTR for a second time at short notice seemed perhaps unwise. More than one thespian looked a little pale...but, bless them, the people seemed to have fun. Our first rehearsal with the full cast that afternoon had been a little worrying, as our cues were long forgetten, and our pace sodden. However when we heard the first giggles, then roars, from the audience, there was a lot of grinning backstage. We had to pause for laughter to settle before delivering our lines! Most enthusiastic they seemed.

All in all, quite a success. Extra special hugs and thanks to cuiaalfheim, who journeyed far to reprise her stellar performance as Gandalf/Galadriel/The MC, and to freya_9, who did the lighting, and didn't complain once through two very chaotic rehearsals. Stars, both.

It has become increasingly apparent that autumn is here, and so I am excited. The sunniness of the last few weeks has been accompanied by a delicious crispness, particularly in the morning air. The chestnuts have begun to change. I've never seen leaves shrivel on a tree so. Autumn was always my favourite season at home, and I'm looking forward to enjoying it amongst the many deciduous trees. This is exactlyhalf's first September in England too, and it is nice to experience a 'first' together.

We had a most autumnal weekend. It began with a very long walk on Saturday, and the gathering of conkers, for to string them and fight each other (and everyone else who might like to play). Sunday we enticed like-minded others out for a spot of autumn punting, which, with leaves falling on the Cherwell, and Magdalen radiant in the afternoon light, was simply delicious. There was also the playing of cards in a punt (appropriately, a game of 'up and down the river'). Then to a friend's home to conquer a difficult crossword over tea, and back to the Castle for gardener's pie (vegetarian shepherd's pie). There is something so comfortable about sitting in the lounge and reading, while dinner cooks in the oven and fills the room with good smells.

Other nice thing that happened was a chance to catch up with one of my old consultant's from Melbourne - The Very Clever Professor who recommended me to my current employers. He was in Oxford for a conference, and so we caught up for coffee, careers discussion and talk of Australian health care/politics.

All of which just about covers up my latent worry about what it will be like when the dark comes.

You know it's your last chance to join the international frolicking and so....

Our man in Christ Church has booked the Bayne room for revelry from 8pm on Friday night - it's booked under the Taruith name. Here we can have some revelry before braving the bookshops. In a more ambitious time I had imagined games, snacks (themed, of course) and general merriment. The tragic reality is that I will be working right up until 8pm, and am due back in the salt mines at 8 the next morning. So I can't promise carefully planned merriment, but I'm pretty sure any ideas would be cheerfully entered into! (All those on holidays might have time to come up with some!)

Thanks to those who have indicated an intention to be there. Since it's out of term and many people are away, and since chief lembas maiden Tora and I will be making some snacks, it would be great to have a vague idea of numbers, but don't feel bound to commit, or unable to come without rsvp. (And if anyone wants to turn their hand to making cockroach clusters or fizzing whizbees, knock yourselves out!).

Oh, and if anyone has a cunning idea about how you mull mead without a stove or microwave, would love to hear it!

In summary - friday night, 8pm, Bayne Room till about 10, then onwards to the Book shops of Broad St.