Blessing, humility and suffering

On the morning of 22^nd November 2023, the whole of the UK woke up to a glorious sunrise. The cloud formation was such that the sky was coloured in different shades of red, orange, blue and purple. I took the photo attached to this post from my bedroom window looking east. Social media was awash with photos from around the country of this amazing sight. Many captured the colours and grandeur far better than I have achieved.

I was reminded of those early mornings and late evenings when I was on watch during sailing trips. There would be amazing sunrises and sunsets where it was difficult to distinguish the sea from the sky and the panoramic scale of the view was vast. If we were under sail with the engine off it would be a wonderful, undisturbed sight, with the sky constantly changing. If my two fellow crew members were getting some rest, I would be the only person in a vast empty sea to witness the vista. It was a moment in the vast universe only for me, unlike the 22^nd of November which was witnessed by so many.

We are about to head into Advent and the Christmas period. I have enjoyed writing these last few blog posts, where my main aim was to extend the word count and put a bit more thought and effort into the text. A self-imposed weekly publishing deadline had two purposes. First, it would give me focus and a target to produce something. Second, it would give readers confidence and expectancy that a weekly post would appear.

I have written about subjects that have interested me: sailing, music, and languages. There are other subjects about which I am passionate, such as family, faith, community, photography, wildlife and running. I have touched briefly on these subjects in the last four blogs.

I have been grateful for the feedback I have received in the form of “likes” and comments on my social media. Please do add comments. I will be asking myself some questions as I reflect and review over the next few weeks.

What, if anything, have you found interesting and helpful over the recent series of posts?
I have restricted my use of photos compared to previous blog posts. Have I got the balance right? Should I use more photos or less?
Is the length of the posts right? Should I aim for a higher word count or lower.
Is the frequency of posts right? Should I aim to increase the frequency to twice a week, or reduce to once a month?
Should I attempt to write posts in Spanish, or French?

If you have a view on any of these questions, please do let me know.

In my career Christmas and New Year were always extremely busy. For the first part of my career, I worked in the London insurance market. 31^st December was the end of the accounting year, and a great deal of bookkeeping activity would take place in the run up to year end, posting ledgers and preparing reconciliations. Then in January there would be a great deal of work preparing financial statements, tax computations, consolidations and getting ready for audit teams to prepare their reviews.

Most of the insurance contracts that my firm dealt with renewed on 1^st January, so there would be a great deal of activity supporting those renewals. Senior managers would also want to approve a budget in place for the following year. These needed to be well documented so that any deviation from budget could be tracked and identified.

Now that I have retired those year-end pressures, activities and routines are gone. This has created space for other activities and routines. So, this will be a time to focus on family and faith, language and reading. A time for relationships, celebration and thanks, prayer, and reflection. I will enjoy sunrises and sunsets and breathing in and out. There will be activity and busyness – probably a few arguments. And it will be joyous.

One of the names of Christ that is specifically remembered at Christmas is “Imanuel”, meaning God with us. This is a name that is full of hope, forgiveness, and acceptance. Peace with God. Our world is full of conflict, disagreements, misunderstandings, and arguments. There is suffering and heartbreak. But we are offered God with us. Not an angry deity wanting to punish us when we step out of line. But Christ who suffered heartbreak and abandonment, so that we don’t need to. We are offered blessing, forgiveness, and peace.

One of the biggest song hits during the covid lockdown was a song called “The Blessing”. There was a UK version sung by many people each singing only one or two lines, with the whole song just calling blessing on its hearers. And it was a commercial success because it is a message that we all want to hear. Ultimately, we want a blessing on our lives and the lives of our community, friends, and family. Like Jabez (1 Chronicles 4:10), all we need to do is ask God, without demanding what that blessing look like. That is my own prayer and for anyone reading this, that you will receive God’s blessing too.

Beyond Jabez prayer, the Bible offers two other sources of blessing. Psalm 1 states that blessing is received by those “whose delight is in the law of the Lord, and who meditate on his law day and night”. Then in Matthew 5 at the start of the sermon on the mount Jesus pronounces 8 blessings, known as the beatitudes. After expounding and explaining these blessings, Jesus finishes his sermon in Matthew 7: 24-27 by contrasting wise and foolish builders. Those who hear his words and put them into practise are likened to wise men building their house on solid rock foundations. Those who hear his words and don’t put them into practice are likened to foolish men building their house on sand.

So, there you have it – three clear directions for obtaining blessing:

Asking for blessing.
Meditating on God’s Word.
Hearing Jesus’ teaching and putting it into practice.

I have been reading “My Rock; My Refuge: A Year of Daily Devotions in the Psalms” by Timothy Keller on my Kindle. But there are plenty of devotional resources available, such as the reading plans in the YouVersion Bible App. Another place to start might be to re-read the opening chapters of Matthew or Luke’s gospel over the advent and Christmas period.

One of the most loved Christmas carols is “Silent Night”. It was written by a young Austrian priest named Joseph Mohr. It was written for a close-knit community that was struggling and had suffered from natural and man-made catastrophes. He wrote the lyrics and asked his friend, Franz Gruber to set it to music. They performed it for the first time on Christmas Eve, 1818. From this humble beginning it spread worldwide. Its message was important and was sung during the Christmas Truce of 1914, at the height of World War 1, when German and British troops on the front line in Flanders laid down their weapons on Christmas Eve and together sang “Silent Night”. It is a carol that continues to juxtapose with suffering. Simon and Garfunkel memorably sang Silent Night against the background of the 7 O’clock news back in 1966.

Our current circumstances can be very noisy and distracting. Let’s listen for a deeper, longer lasting truth in the lyrics of “Silent Night” and ask for God’s blessing on our lives, our families lives and our communities.

Silent night, holy night!
All is calm, all is bright.
Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child.
Holy infant so tender and mild,
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.

Silent night, holy night!
Shepherds quake at the sight.
Glories stream from heaven afar
Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia,
Christ the Savior is born!
Christ the Savior is born.

Silent night, holy night!
Son of God love’s pure light.
Radiant beams from Thy holy face
With dawn of redeeming grace,
Jesus Lord, at Thy birth!
Jesus Lord, at Thy birth.

This is a link to a brass quartet playing Silent Night

Pardon my French

I’m not a linguist. Over the years, I have had a go at learning several languages: French, Spanish, Russian, German, Italian and Koine Greek (New Testament Greek). The results have been mixed at best.

My first trip to a foreign country was when I was in my early twenties. We were going to stay for a week in Frankfurt with a close friend of my wife. She was living with a German family and had arranged for us to stay with a couple she knew. We wanted to clarify some details, and this was in the age of landlines before the explosion of personal mobile phones and devices. So, I called the German family and waited for the phone to be answered. It was, and I launched into a sentence that I had been practicing over and over, “Ich mӧchte mit [name] sprechen, bitte”. (I would like to speak with [name], please). I particularly focussed on the pronunciation of ‘mӧchte’. English doesn’t have an umlaut, so I wanted to get this right.

But then I ran into a problem. Instead of going to going to get my friend, the voice at the other end spoke – in German – and I hadn’t got a clue what it said. Straight away I capitulated and reverted to typical English behaviour of expecting everyone to speak English. “What did you say?” I asked. The voice responded in perfect English, “I said, “I will go and get her””. And there we have my recurring problem with languages. Any slight progress in learning is always overwhelmed by what I still don’t know.

A few years later, In the mid-1990s, we did a 3-week family tour of western Europe and made it to the lakes of northern Italy. After erecting our tent, we made our way to the campsite café. After speaking English very slowly and very loudly with a lot of arm waving, we were given a table and some menus. We wanted to order three pizzas, which we were going to share between the 6 of us. I tried to explain this to the waiter who we gathered spoke Italian and German. I tried in my best German to explain that we wanted 3 pizzas cut in half. I felt very pleased and proud of myself for having coped so well with my mastery of the German language. After a brief wait our order arrived – 6 pizzas. The waiter had doubled the order instead of halving the pizzas.

There had clearly been a miscommunication and I think it was down to the language rather than applying the correct mathematical function. Both the waiter and I were working in a second language, but I think we can agree that I can’t lay any blame on the waiter.

On the same trip we travelled from Germany through the Black Forest into Switzerland. We arrived at a campsite in Interlaken. I parked the van and walked into the reception to check on the availability of places for an overnight stop. I was amazed to discover that the guy who talked to me was fluent in about 6-8 languages. I started to use my very poor German, but he detected straight away that German was not my first language. When he figured out that I was English, he said in perfect English, “OK, let’s start again – in English.” I have always been so impressed by people who switch from one language to another, but again I felt discouraged that my ability was so poor.

I thought I was destined never to be able to learn a foreign language. There was something in my genes that prevented me from learning. And it wasn’t until relatively recently that I’ve been able to challenge that assumption.

Retirement, covid lockdown and a free language app made me realise I was doing it all wrong and treating language learning like a maths problem. I was expecting a eureka moment when I would breakthrough and suddenly, I would be fluent. But language learning isn’t like that. Sure, there are rules of grammar which need to be learned. However, it turns out that small consistent steps are what it takes to learn a language. Gaining familiarity over time and building vocabulary. I understand that it takes a vocabulary of 10,000 words to reach fluency.

I had been too easily discouraged. Instead of celebrating my small steps of progress, and using that to propel me into further learning, I had focussed too much on my failures and allowed that to put me off.

For me it was the app that was the game changer. Using it every day for 3 years slowly built my confidence. There were days when I could have cheerfully thrown my mobile phone out of the window in frustration. But I kept coming back the next day and the next.

My strongest second language now is Spanish. According to a recent test, I have attained a CEFR level of B1 – intermediate. The Common European Framework of Reference for Languages (CEFR) is an international standard for describing language ability. It consists of a 6-point scale from A1 – beginner to C2 – proficient. I got to this level primarily by completing the Duolingo tree on the app. I started in the September before the covid lockdown and finished it about a year ago. I was hoping to have made more progress toward fluency if I am honest. But there doesn’t seem to be a clear path from the intermediate plateau to the lofty peak of proficiency. The advice appears to be to just keep using the language daily. Follow the process and let the result take care of itself.

I have started to ascend the Duolingo French tree. It’s early days but I appear to be making faster progress. I’m up to a CEFR level of A2 – pre intermediate, so still a long way to go. My motivation here is that my two younger boys are both at early stages of French at school. I thought that if I worked at it at the same time, it would encourage them. Something appears to be working, as my older son came home from school very pleased to have earned an accolade for his French. I’m not totally au fait with the award system, but I believe an accolade sits somewhere above a merit and an e-praise point.

I still get moments of discouragement. I was talking to someone recently about hobbies and mentioned my interest in languages. I said I was studying French, at which point she launched into a French dialogue in a perfect French accent. I hadn’t a clue what she said, and I felt embarrassed. But I didn’t let that stop me from going home and doing my French exercises for that day. And then keep showing up.

It is slow, but its about familiarity, keeping going and trusting the process. My latest language is New Testament Greek. I am two-thirds of my way through an introduction to Greek grammar. But as I write I must admit that I have lost momentum and am struggling to complete the book. Much of what I have written above is reminding me to trust the process of taking small consistent steps. I have been able to read and translate short passages of the New Testament, which has brought these passages to life in a fresh way.

This short series of blogs is about things that I am passionate about and interest me. I am finding that as I write about these things, I am reminding myself of these subjects and why I find them fascinating. But beyond that my writing is rekindling the passion and the interest. So, where I have lost momentum, as with the Greek, I am challenging myself to pick this up again.

It is also making me think about the future. I am finding myself thinking about travel again, maybe another trip to Europe. The last time I travelled overseas was about 7 years ago – pre covid. It would be a fun way of putting the language learning to good practise. The paperwork will probably be a bit more involved, post Brexit, and border crossings may be a little more tedious and time consuming, but on a cold, wet, grey November morning it sounds quite appealing.

Now, where did I put my passport?

Sailing setback

This is the 3^rd blog post of a new series. It’s part of a new focus on extending the word count, going into a bit more depth on the chosen subject and being more disciplined on publishing a post once a week. The first post set the scene and direction for the series and the second focussed on my passion for brass bands.

Yacht ownership – a dream too far?

Another passion has been sailing. I pursued my sailing dream when I bought my own 30’ wooden yacht a few months later. I bought her from a doctor in Falmouth, Cornwall and my wife and son crewed for me as we sailed her back to Poole, my home port. Over the years we have explored the local area from Portland in the west to the Solent in the west, restricting ourselves exclusively to day sailing. But then life got busy, and we spent less and less time with the boat. Covid was the final straw and for the last few years she has been on hard standing in a boatyard.

A few weeks ago, the boatyard contacted me to say that the boat was looking a bit neglected. As I drove down to the check her over, I felt anxious about what I would find. Sure enough, she was looking in need of some care. Two of the port stations had collapsed inwards and in doing so caused damage to the deck. What was worse however was when I opened the hatch and investigated the cabin. Rainwater had been leaking through the damaged deck and there was about 2’ of water in the bottom of the boat above the floor. I was shocked at the extent of the damage. Initially, I started to plan out a project of restoration. I pumped out the water but as my head began to overrule my heart, I realised that the damage had gone too far, and I did not have the time or resources for a restoration.

Dinghy sailing in Docklands.

It all started in 2002 when I booked myself and my 14-year-old son on a RYA dinghy sailing course in the Docklands area of East London. Over 2 weekends we did the RYA I and RYA II course. In the first week we used wayfarer dinghies and in the second week we upgraded to a bosun.

For the most part we had good weather, until the last Sunday when the temperature dropped and there was thick, grey cloud cover. It was this day that our instructors chose to teach us how to respond if we capsized. We first had to purposely capsize our dinghy. With a 2-man crew, one person had to be next to the upside of the boat and the other person went round to the underside. The person on the underside positioned themselves on the daggerboard and heaved on the ‘sheets’ (ropes controlling the sails) using their weight to bring the dinghy upright. At the same time, the other crew member was to position themselves to roll into the boat as the submerged side of the boat came up out of the water.

Ideally the instructors wanted us to do this exercise twice with each crew member taking their turn in each position. However, after our first successful recovery I looked at my son. He was shivering uncontrollably with the cold and his lips and complexion had turned grey. With the instructors’ permission, we restricted our capsize exercise to just the one recovery.

Yacht sailing – training and trips

When I was in my late 40’s and early 50’s I went on sailing courses where I got hands on experience of handling a 30’ yacht. I also covered theory and passed the yacht master theory exam. My sailing experience was mainly around Poole harbour and the Solent.

I remember one training session in Poole harbour. I slept on board the training yacht with two other would be sailors, both of whom had a military background and were looking to develop a skill for when they retired. Our trainer was an experienced sailor who had written a few books on sailing and was a respected trainer. We woke to strong winds and rain. As we waited for our trainer, we speculated on what training we would undertake. Our guess was that we would focus on something like tying knots or some activity that could be undertaken whilst moored up. Surely, we wouldn’t be taking the boat out in this weather! How wrong we were.

Our trainer arrived just after we had finished clearing up after breakfast. He instructed us to set the sails, fully reefed. We were off to Swanage. This meant leaving the calm waters of Poole harbour out into Weymouth Bay where the winds were strong, and the sea state was rough. I looked at my fellow trainees to gauge their reaction. But they were impassive and if they felt nervous, it didn’t show. We dressed in our sailing gear, prepared the sails, and headed out. We left Poole harbour past the chain ferry, into the Swash Channel and headed toward the famous “Old Harry” sea stack. As we rounded “Old Harry”, the wind grew stronger still and the sea state was turbulent. The wind was head on from our direction of travel and we could only progress by making a series of tacks. It was hairy and my first exposure to such conditions. We were the only yacht out on the seas. I felt a rising anxiety and looked at my two fellow students and our instructor. They continued to remain calm and exuded confidence. My job was to keep the tension in the main sail by pulling in or releasing the kicking strap. My instructor turned to me on one occasion and asked whether I wanted to capsize. I said “no”. “Well release the kicking strap, then.” There was no anger or frustration in his voice. It was just an instruction. I released the strap slightly and the yacht returned to a more upright position. It was only a small adjustment, but it increased my confidence that we were in good hands.

It was a hair-raising experience that pushed me way out of my comfort zone. But it was also exhilarating and confidence building. It was an experience that I would later draw on.

I got the opportunity to crew a couple of yacht deliveries. The first was for a Swedish couple who had bought a yacht in Hamble on the south coast of England and wanted it delivered to their nearest port in Sweden. It was a journey of about 1,000 miles along the south coast to Dover, then across the North Sea to Hanstholm in Denmark and the final leg to Mollosund in Sweden. It was April 2011 and quite cold, but we had prevailing south westerly wind for the whole trip. The weather worsened as we got to Dover, so we pulled in for an overnight stop in the harbour. The following day we set out again and the conditions felt like those I experienced on the Swanage training trip. I took the helm as we sailed out and headed past Goodwin Sands. On one occasion I looked behind the boat only to be faced by a wall of water swelling and following us. I had no fear, only respect for the conditions but I was so grateful for what I had learned earlier. My two crew mates and I built a strong rapport and trust. We established a good routine of 3 hours on watch and 6 hours off. And we all took turns cooking meals.

The second trip was from Lagos, Portugal to Lymington on the south coast of England. It was a similar distance to my first yacht delivery, but this time I would be crewing on a 46’ yacht. It was much ‘stiffer’ than the 30’ yacht and didn’t roll quite as much. It was a few months after the Sweden trip, and we were a lot further south; it was a lot hotter. Again, there was a crew of three. We didn’t develop quite the same rapport as the previous crew. The skipper would have moments of rage, which kind of spoiled the enjoyment. But it was a memorable trip. On two occasions we were accompanied by a pod of curious dolphins. They jumped out of the water alongside us and ahead of the bow. It was the first and, so far, only time that I witnessed this behaviour. I still feel joyful at the memory.

So, is my sailing dream over? I have wonderful sailing memories. It is hard to envisage a future without sailing. The dream is still alive, but for now it is hard to see past my current setback. I need to process my guilt, disappointment and loss. I remember in my teenage years attending a course led by Selwyn Hughes. It had a session entitled “turning setbacks into springboards”. My notes from that course are long gone, but clearly, I still need to draw on the teaching.

Music and harmony

Music has been important to me since before I first picked up a second-hand trumpet at the age of 13. I used to listen to my parent’s classical music collection. Whilst my peers were getting excited by the Beatles, Buddy Holly, Johnny Cash, etc. I was listening to all nine of Beethoven’s symphonies. I think times have moved on. Different genres are now considered cool and there is a lot of overlap between different styles.

I worked my way through the ABRSM grades achieving grade 6 by the time I left school. If I had achieved grade 8 maybe my career would have gone in a different direction. When I left school, I didn’t take any more grades, but I continued to play. Eventually I found a brass band in my 50s and could not resist playing more regularly and being a more disciplined player. I really enjoyed playing with the band.

I played in the brass band for about nine years up to the end of 2017, when other priorities meant that I couldn’t continue the commitment of weekly rehearsals. During the summer we played on outdoor bandstands in local parks, entertaining people out enjoying a picnic or just the music. We played a mix of marches, classical, and music from film and theatre. Later in the year, we played at Remembrance Day services and then we were into our Christmas season with concerts and carol services and playing carols at retail locations.

One of the most rewarding performances was at the bandstand in Bournemouth Lower Gardens one Sunday evening. It was an evening performance rather than afternoon and the bandstand was rather grand. It was fully enclosed but the whole of the front would fold back, opening the bandstand to the gardens below. We accessed the bandstand through a back door. As the band was settling to play to only a few people in the gardens, I went to close the door. A rather scruffy man came up to me, clearly homeless. “Please, don’t close the doors! The other bands do that, and we can’t hear the music.” he requested. “We want to listen.” He turned and pointed to a row of homeless men seated on the bench behind the bandstand. I think they were embarrassed to go into the gardens in front of the bandstand but were happy to sit behind where they were less conspicuous. I left the door open and took my place, humbled by the request. At the end of each piece there was enthusiastic applause from behind us.

A brass band consists of cornets, flugelhorn, tenor horns, baritones, euphoniums, trombones, and basses. I started playing cornet and eventually advanced to the front row. Then we lost our bass player and I switched to play the Eb bass. Instead of playing the melody line I now played the bass line. The switch wasn’t too difficult. The fingering for both is the same, although the Bass has a 4^th valve to help keep the notes in tune in the lower register. I loved the switch. At first, I played quite quietly. I wasn’t used to producing the volume of air required for these larger instruments. Gradually I got louder and more confident. What a great instrument! The band gained a couple more bass players, so I could have switched back to my cornet, but I was having too much fun.

A couple of highlights from 2016 was when the band was invited to make a summer tour of Vendee in France. We played two or three concerts and added a French flavour by including Marche Lorraine in the repertoire. Then later in the year we entered a brass band contest and won some silverware. We were the new kids on the contesting scene, and I think the judges gave us an award for being plucky enough to turn up.

At the end of 2017, other commitments meant I had to curtail my brass playing. The band went on to even greater achievements after I left. But then covid hit and lockdown made things very difficult for a lot of bands. An interesting development was zoom and virtual band performances. Technology enabled band players to record their parts remotely using a metronome and headphones to keep in time. These recordings would then be collated and mixed to create a full band recording on YouTube.

Gradually over this past couple of years, I’ve been working on getting back into shape. My old band have lent me one of their Eb basses and I already had my old cornet. I have also purchased a cheap, 2^nd hand tenor horn. With just those three instruments I have been able to create my own virtual brass band making use of digital technology to record four-part harmony. So far, I have mostly kept it simple, recording hymn tunes lasting between 30 seconds to 1 minute.

However, the most ambitious recording I attempted was the march, Slaidburn. It is a standard march written by William Rimmer. It’s a well-known piece in the brass band world. Virtually every brass band in the country will have this march in its repertoire. Rimmer’s recommended tempo was 112-116 beats per minute. So, I set my electronic metronome to 112 and had that beat playing in my ear as I attempted each part. I restricted myself to just 3 instruments: cornet, tenor horn, and Eb bass. The result was quite a stripped back version and not entirely error free, but recognisable. I would have loved to include the euphonium and trombone parts, but I don’t have those instruments available to me and I can’t play the trombone – I can make a sound, but I’ve never learnt where to position the slide.

Recently I’ve had some advice on how to improve my playing in just one week! I’m usually sceptical if anyone offers me shortcuts to achieve progress, but I thought I would suspend my scepticism and give it a go.

Three things were suggested: first, play long notes. This is sound advice and I remember being told this from my playing days. Two or three ten-minute sessions of playing long, quiet notes every day for a week will see improvement it is promised. Second, breath intake and control. Breath is where the energy comes from to produce the sound. The aim should be to produce a long column of air. This is done by expanding the stomach, not the chest, when breathing in and filling the lungs from the bottom up, without hunching the shoulders. This is how energy and power are produced and is clearly linked to the first point of playing long notes. Finally, practise needs to be practise. This means techniques like long notes and scales. This needs to take precedence over simply repeat playing of tunes that are familiar.

I have given this a go over the past week. I have found these three steps to be helpful. The tone I produce has improved as has the confidence that I can hit the note I am aiming for first time.

My local church has recently asked me and others to play carols with a group pulled together just for this one performance. They plan on switching on the lights for their Christmas decorations. I have done this for the last two years. Its quite straight forward, but none of the band has time for any rehearsal other than possibly an hour before the performance. I have made one or two attempts at convening a rehearsal, but everyone has busy lives. So, each player must prepare on their own and we’ll see how it goes on the night. It’s not as though we don’t know the tunes.

So, music will continue to be a passion for me and a way of connecting with others. I am grateful that I can still play and that I am still improving.

Promise and hope

The autumn sun is shining through the window. A slight breeze is causing some of the uppermost branches of a nearby tree to sway. It’s 3 o’clock in the afternoon and the house is empty other than for Pippin, our spaniel, and me. Pippin is curled up on the sofa next to me with one eye on the driveway longing for Jacki’s return.

I usually write in the morning, first thing before anyone else is up. Sometimes I am joined by one of our boys if they wake early, but most times I get to jot down a few thoughts. My routine is to record my feelings and reflections followed by three things I am particularly grateful for. Finally, I read a passage from the Psalms. I have been using Tim Keller’s book ‘My Rock, My Refuge’, a daily devotional that takes the reader through the Psalms in one year. I am on my second year.

I am challenging myself to write a bit more. I have a blog which I post photos of wildlife, and I would like to extend the length of the text. From recent research I can see that there has been a change of opinion over recent years about the minimum word count for a blog. 10 years ago the advice was that 500 words was an acceptable minimum. Now this has been extended to 1,500 – 2,000 words. Whilst acknowledging that most readers will only skim read, the suggestion is that a word count of 500 hundred only permits a writer to scratch the surface of the subject they are writing about. The extended minimum allows the writer to go into a bit more depth. It requires a bit of research and a little more thought and preparation.

I recently used my blog to record my training for running a half marathon, my first in about 7 years. I set myself a challenge of getting ready for the race in just 8 weeks. There were several motivating factors. The first and primary motivation was my wife’s recovery from breast cancer and heart failure. I wanted to use the run to express my gratitude to God for answering my prayers and the prayers of family and friends. I set up a JustGiving page which provided supporters a way to offer their support to others who face a similar set of circumstances.

The blog worked well and required more text than normal but fell short of the recommended minimum. I continued to use photographs, as they help to illustrate ideas and offer a visual impact. I was particularly pleased to exceed my fundraising target. I think giving friends and family regular training updates helped me to take them with me as I prepared myself for race day. It certainly helped me maintain my focus and motivation.

I have been running my blog for a few years now and it seems appropriate to stand back and reflect on what it is that I am hoping to achieve with it. The post that received the most views and was by far and away the one that seemed to capture substantial interest was a post from 2019. I had taken my boys on an afternoon visit to a local reservoir, Longham Lakes. I had given them both a camera to record what they saw. To my amazement virtually the first bird we saw was a yellow and black bird, about the size of a finch sitting on top of the reedbed. It turned out to be a Yellow Crowned Bishop. It was a long way from its sub-Saharan home. Apparently, they migrate north and are summer visitors to Portugal, still a long way from a reservoir in East Dorset. At the time I posted it, it aroused a little interest, but in July and August 2021 was viewed 239 and 445 times respectively. This may not seem high but compared to the normal monthly viewings of under 5 it was a massive jump.

Looking back at the statistics most of this traffic came from Facebook, but not from my Facebook page. Someone with a large following must have discovered my blog and posted a link which their followers then followed. It would be interesting to bird watchers – evidence of a migrating bird discovered outside its usual habitat. Twitchers love that sort of thing.

Whilst it is rewarding to see increased interest, that has not been my primary goal. Initially I was looking for feedback on my photography, as I was new to digital photography. My skill set was quite rudimentary. I had a digital camera with a telescopic lens. For the first few months the settings were on auto, and I only had the camera set to capture JPEG formats, not RAW. Gradually my knowledge and experience allowed me to use some of the manual settings and both my shooting and processing improved. I switched to capturing RAW files, which gave me greater control over the processing of the images. I also discovered post-production software and was able to manipulate the resulting images with an increasing array of tools.

I was aware of the triangulation of settings within the camera of ISO, shutter speed and aperture. My preferred setting initially was to fix the shutter speed and ISO and let the aperture vary automatically. Later I switched this to aperture priority, which gave me greater control over image quality.

When taking a shot now I will adjust the ISO based on the prevailing light conditions, I then adjust the exposure compensation for each photo. If there is a light background with a dark subject, I increase the exposure; if the background is dark and the subject is light, I decrease the exposure.

Photographers will tell you that it’s not the camera that takes the photo, but the person behind the lens. To a certain extent I agree. It would be very expensive to keep up with the latest technology. The person taking the photographs has a vision that precedes the photograph. When I take a photo, I have an idea of what I am trying to achieve. But there comes a point at which the equipment holds you back. That has been my experience. There have been key moments over the last five years when I have made step changes in image quality with carefully chosen equipment upgrades. I now use a full frame sensor instead of a crop sensor. I have a higher specification telescopic lens for wildlife and a wide-angle lens for landscapes. I also have a “nifty fifty” for street photography.

But technology is several steps ahead of me. I haven’t yet upgraded to a Mirrorless camera, but there may come a time when I need to do this. This will be when I feel constrained by my current kit and currently this is not the case.

I think for the next phase of the blog I will continue to use photographs, but maybe fewer – just one or two per post. And I will put more effort into the text and see where we go. This is pretty much the approach I took with photography – I just wanted to improve the image quality and learn how to take wildlife photos. I want to improve my written communication of ideas and themes. These will probably be related to wildlife and photography, but other interests may creep in. I would like to develop a two-way communication with readers through the comments section, so I invite you to add your comments and feedback.

I will try and be a bit more disciplined in updating the blog and establish a regular weekly posting routine to help readers engage. Hopefully, there will be something of interest and thought-provoking.

I have restricted myself to a single image for this post: a rainbow representing promise (remember God’s covenant with Noah and all mankind – as recounted in Genesis chapter 9). It was taken locally this past weekend. There was a break in the rain and so we headed out with Pippin to stretch his legs. It’s one of our favourite places to walk where I have taken photos of various bird species including stonechats, Dartford warblers and nesting skylarks. On this occasion it was the rainbow that caught my eye – so bright against a dark sky. I could see clearly where it touched the ground but there was no pot of gold. It was a double rainbow. You can just make out the second to the right of the main one but its very faint. So, there I will leave things for the moment – promise and hope. A promise to produce posts regularly and hope that you will find it engaging.

Jurassic Coast

Old Harry bathed in sunlight from Durlston Castle, with Bournemouth pier and seafront in background

In August 2023 I walked the 8 miles from Corfe Castle to Swanage. It was a wake up call as I struggled up the climb to the Obelisk.

The climb to the Obelisk (just visible) – the location of my August struggle

It was halfway up the 220 steps that I was brought face to face with my lack of fitness. In the intervening 8 weeks I have trained for, and last week ran in, the Bournemouth half marathon.

This week I returned to the Isle of Purbeck. Temperatures were more autumnal and it was mainly sunny, only breaking into a rain shower after we had sat down on the grass to eat our sandwiches. The rain was refreshing and quickly passed.

Our route was an 8 mile circular walk starting and finishing at Durlston Castle, just outside Swanage. We followed the South West Coast Path to just beyond Dancing Ledge, where we headed inland to join the Priest’s Way footpath and looped back to Durlston Castle with stunning views of the Isle of Wight and Poole Harbour. The following photos are some of the wildlife along the way. We were at the wrong time of year to see Puffins, but there are recorded sightings of a small number in May at Dancing Ledge. Note to self to return next spring.

Finisher!

I did it! It was a hot day and I faded in the 2nd half, but I finished.

My time was 3 hours 10 minutes, which is slow, but this wouldn’t have been possible just 8 weeks ago. My training got me through. That and the support of my wonderful family and friends. I was shuffling along in the 2nd half looking convincingly every day of my 65 years! But then the finish came into sight and I made a concerted effort to look a bit like a runner as I crossed the line.

The red hair dye was fun, but red sweat dripped down my face and into my eyes.

Thank you to everyone who donated to Macmillan Cancer Support:

Jane, Daniela, Turner family, John and Linda, Doug and Diane, Millie, Joy, Mark, Peter, the Tyndall family and two anonymous donors.

Your gifts really did give me encouragement. Macmillan Cancer support offer support to people at a very vulnerable time. I am so grateful for my wife’s recovery this year. This run was an expression of my gratitude to God for his love, care and support through a challenging chapter.

If you would like to donate, it’s not too late. This is a link to my JustGiving page.

Bournemouth Half – Ready to run

Since signing up for the Bournemouth half marathon in mid August I have pulled on my running shoes on 28 separate occasions. I have run 205 kilometres in all kinds of weather – thunderstorms, blistering heat – and at all times of the day. I have run down Oliver’s Road countless times, tapping the green tub at the bottom before turning back up. I have lost nearly 5kg / 11lb in weight. And now I am in the final week. I will be lining up on the start line with thousands of others at 11am on Sunday 8th October, 2023. The weather forecast is for clear skies and temperature of 17-19 degrees celsius. I am excited, but nervous. My time looks like its going to be somewhere between 2 hours 15 mins and 2 hours 45 mins.

Donations to Macmillan Cancer Support are currently at an amazing £315. Thank you to everyone who has contributed to this total. This is the link to my JustGiving page for anyone who would like to add their support to this worthy cause. My target is £500, so your contribution however small will help me to reach this.

The course runs from Hengistbury Head and finishes at Bournemouth Pier. If you are in the area, why not pop down and enjoy the atmosphere and amazing views across Bournemouth Bay and cheer me on?

My favourite training spot for hill repeats

Tapering and puddles

Bournemouth half marathon is just over two weeks away. This week’s weather in the UK is being affected by the remnants of hurricane Lee out in the Atlantic. This is set to be followed by hurricane Nigel later in the week. (There was an intermediate hurricane Margot, following the alphabetical naming convention, but that dissipated and was downgraded to a cyclone). My long run at the weekend was in a thunderstorm. There were progressively less and less people about as the puddles deepened and those with any sense headed indoors. At first I tried to dodge the puddles, but eventually I gave up and just waded through.

My concern was to keep going before I embark on tapering sessions 10-14 days ahead of race day. The theory of tapering as it has been explained to me is that there is nothing one can do in the last two weeks to make one run faster. The aim is to arrive at the start of the race fit and uninjured. Therefore the intesity of the training sessions needs to reduce and the length of long runs likewise need to reduce. Also by maintaining the same diet, with reduced exercise, there will be a natural period of carbo-loading.

That’s the theory. So I will do my last tempo run on Friday and my final long run on Sunday before scaling things back.

What other obstacles might get in the way? Poor race strategy. It has been suggested to me that the half marathon should be treated like 4 back to back Parkruns. The first two parkruns should be run at a steady pace, without getting carried away with the adrenaline and excitement. Then the effort should be maintained or increased in the third parkrun. (Bournemouth has a hill at mile 8, so I’m hoping my hill repeats will help me here.) Then the advice is to throw the kitchen sink at the final 3 miles/5k.

My time will not be fast, but barring injuries I will finish. I just hope that the rain won’t cause my rebel red hairspray to run.

Have you run a half marathon? How did you get on? Have you got any advice for how to approach the last two weeks? What worked for you? Would you do anything differently with the benefit of hindsight?

Thank you for reading and for the support.

Bournemouth half marathon training

It’s not all about the numbers. Three weeks to go until race day. The mileage is going up and the weight is coming down. Training is quite intense at the moment and its hard not to obsess about the little things.

I was doing my hill repeats this week. I do these on a quiet road not far from home. The road drops away quite sharply and there are stunning views across the Stour valley looking toward Canford Heath. I can run up and down a short section to my heart’s content and only see one or two vehicles and maybe the odd dog walker. There are a few houses on either side of the road, but only occasionally will I see one of their occupants.

I was on my 7th repeat out of 8 and struggled uphill before turning back down for the final climb. One of the occupants of a house on the right hand side of the road was in his driveway. He saw me and stopped what he was doing. I thought he was going to tell me to go and find another hill to run up and down, but he didn’t. He raised his right hand and gave me a cheery wave signifying approval of my exertions – I’ve never met the chap before. The effect surprised me. I reached the bottom of the hill and turned to climb again. My step was lighter. I picked up speed and gave it just a little more effort. I didn’t see the man as I passed his house on the left, but that didn’t matter. His simple gesture of encouragement raised my spirits and made me try just that little bit harder.

I’ve replaced my old trainers this week. And I have selected my hair colour – rebel red – which I’m hoping will wash out in my post race shower. There is a possibility, I guess, that its going to take more than one wash, in which case I may go through various stages of pink, before returning to my normal gray.

I’ve mentioned previously that I will be running with friends and family, so this is a shout out to those I am aware of who I believe will be there at the finish line: Doug, Debbie, Amy, Phoebe, Edd and Matt.

This is a link to my Just Giving page for anyone who would like to support me – Macmillan Cancer Support.