The past on the doorstep

According to the office of national statistics I live in a neighbourhood of maximum deprivation. Ask around in Plymouth, however, and you would likely find consensus on that it gets worse if you venture even further west from city centre, into Stoke and Devonport. According to some of my less subtle colleagues the people in my neighbourhood are already hardly human, which is a slightly harsh comment, but when I go for a run in Devonport I sometimes end up in areas where I think I might want to keep running for reasons other than my running shape.

Why would people who don’t live there want to go to Devonport? Maybe because of its past.

In the old days there was no such town as Plymouth as it is now. You had Plymouth, also known as Sutton Harbour (I hope I got that bit right), and Stonehouse and Devonport were separate villages or towns. In 1914 these were all united into what we now know as Plymouth, connected by Union Street, which I initially mistook as named after labourers’ organisations. Even though I live there I don’t know much about Stonehouse, but I know both Plymouth and Devonport have a strong history in sea trade and military activities. Both the army and the navy had barracks and bases all over the place. Devonport still has a large naval base.

Some people know such things in detail. And such people, and the people that aspire to it, would naturally gravitate towards the Plymouth & District Archaeological Society. And these had organised a guided walk through Devonport. So on a windy and cloudy Monday night I joined a fairly large group of history enthusiasts, thereby immediately lowering the average age considerably. These historically interested are quite punctual, though, and they had already started.

These were just random boats passing by, but they fit the ambiance

Mutton Cove harbour, with roofed slipway and stationary king

I missed information on what I think was the only roofed slipway in the far surroundings, and a big statue of some king or other, that had once festooned a prestigious ship. Later we came past what had been the ropery, and the Royal Laboratory (for making extra splendid gunpowder and the likes, it seems), and the actual dockyard, and the old Devonport town hall, and a column that should have had a statue of the king on it but didn’t. And then lots and lots more. There’s lots to see in there if you know what you’re looking for! Our guide, who worked for the Plymouth Museum, did. Luckily he also had a strong voice, so it didn’t get blown away by the strong wind.

On the left the bleak neoclassicism of the old Devonport Town Hall, and on the right the column that commemorates the unification of "the three towns" into Plymouth, and which lacks a monarch on top.

This odd-looking building once was very serious: it has been a prestigious school, and a library. Look here for a 19th century view. This style was fashionable back in the days...

Not only the wind got in the way; it also got dark a bit earlier than he anticipated, so he pointed out the last interesting structures to the chilled crowd by the light of street lanterns. In a way I thought this was the way to experience Devonport; battered by the elements, with the statue of Scott looming menacingly above you and the seagulls screaming. I had a good time, learned a lot, and also learned there is a longer Devonport Heritage Trail that I intend to follow some later day! 

Yet another former library (left) and school (middle), this time in two buildings and under blackening skies

If you've lived in Norway you can hardly help but feel more reverence for Amundsen, but don't think I begrudge Scott his dramatic monument.

From Mount Wise, where Scott stands, you can see the sun set beautifully over the Royal William Yard

From Richmond Walk, a footpath outside the fortifications that allowed civilians to go from A to B in spite of all that inaccessible military terrain, you have an even better view on that. Here one also sees the Devonport Jetty and the remains of the boathouse of the Governor of Plymouth.

By the time it got this dark we went back to the starting point and dispersed... it had been beautiful!

Riots

Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose. When the riots started in England they came unexpected, but in the aftermath of it all, when a nation was trying to come to terms with what happened, a sense of inevitability was felt. With the moral decline of the younger generation this was waiting to happen, wasn’t it? Never before had a generation been so sure of survival, and so dependent on material goods for a sense of identity and a purpose in life. The former could prevent one from making an effort, while the latter would fire up the desire to possess.

Is this true? I think in a way it is. I think it’s only been a few decades that whole generations, from the poorest to the richest, can grow up without having to be afraid of deprivation and starvation. And if you know you’ll have something to eat anyway, you can just as well create some trouble. If nobody will hire you because of your misbehaviour, you can just live off the state, right?

The desire for the material, and the perceived moral decline (I say perceived, not because I claim it’s not there, but because I don’t want to go too deep into it here), is probably something an older generation will always see in a younger one. Plus ça change… and I was reminded of just that when I, instead of running around downtown with a scarf over my face and kicking in windows of electronics shops, was quietly reading some Dostoyevsky. Where he describes society I don’t see late 19th century Russia, but London 2011… judge for yourself!

For the Dutch

Zo te zien is Pluk naar Plymouth verhuisd!

Death row for plants

Ending up in my window sill must be one of the things potted plants fear most. Provided they know fear. I’m not very good at caring for creatures that do not voice their needs. I remember the cunning ways in which my cat, back in the days, would persuade me to feed her. Very effective! She lived to a ripe old age. But most plants wither in my care.

About a year ago I bought some plants for both the office and the house. And they’re still all there! But three of them won’t make the full year. I discovered two of my plants at home have been attacked by some fungus or mould of sorts, and I’ll chuck them, and one of my office plants, which needs lots of water, couldn’t cope with my INQUA-inspired absence. All are still alive, but I think I’ll commit euthanasia. The good news, though, is that the other 6 are still alive, and most of these are even positively thriving!

These white spots don't belong there! On neither cactus.

And this poor bugger just suffered from thirst.

The academic year will start soon, and I assume there will be another plant sale on campus. I’ll go and get me some more victims… perhaps I should buy more of the plants that have proven to be Margot-proof!

This is more like it; see the light youg leaves! This one thrives!

Freecycle

I'm really English! I have much more stuff than I should. It seems to be quite an British thing; the BBC claims the UK has as many self-storage facilities as the rest of Europe added together. I don't have stuff in storage, but I do have too much: I already blogged about my attempts to get rid of some stuff, by both throwing away and selling on eBay. The latter was not such a success; you have to indicate what the postage will cost, and there's no way of knowing that until you know where you're mailing your things to. But then I heard of Freecycle.

Freecycle is a sort of local eBay for free. If you want something or want to get rid of something you post that, and when some match is made between a giver and a taker they arrange exchange, and Bob's you uncle. I tried it with a book, and it all worked out well. I may do more of this! The only problem with freecycle is that it's not just a message board. You get every single email of someone offering something, of someone wanting something, something having been claimed, and something having been received. Instead of cluttering you house it clutters your mailbox! One day I'll find an equilibrium in all this...

Second 10K race: Saltram!

Aren’t we easy to please? I like running, but I like running better if there’s people in reflective vests clapping and shouting encouragements at me. Last Saturday I ran about 10K after work. This Saturday too, but this time it was a race. I stumbled across it on internet, and figured this would be quite splendid. So close by I could go there on bicycle, a route through pretty park land, and starting at 6PM. What more do you want!

I had gotten distracted at home before leaving, so I was getting a bit nervous about making it in time, but I got to the table where they did registration, and beholding the scale of things I figured all was going to be OK. It was the first 10K race in this park, and it may not have made a name for itself. So I registered, paid, pinned the number to my shirt, locked my bike, dropped my bag under a tree (there were no facilities for luggage, strangely enough; maybe they figured everybody would come by car. How English), went to the lady’s room and was ready to go.

All fresh and chirpy at the start

There were only ~80 runners, and the start was downhill, so very soon the runners were quite spread out. The route was nice, the weather good, and after a few kilometres I had found a nice rhythm. Not a very constant one; there were quite steep bits in the route, including a flight of stairs to go up, and some thunderous slopes down. But it was fun! And the marshals with the vests that showed the way were very encouraging. And such things make me happy, so at the finish I already got comments on my Cheshire cat smile all along the way…

The forecast was rain.

The steps along the route; not popular with everyone!

Me running up these stairs; looking quite sweaty by then... and my ponytail has disintegrated and my earphones won't stay in place. But who cares!

The route was two laps; I liked that, as the second time I knew what to expect. And they, quite unlike the Totnes 10K, had a sign every kilometre. (In Totnes they had one every mile! Tsk.) So I knew when I could run myself empty. The finish, like the start, was downhill, so I came hurtling down the last few hundred metres. And a few more; I was stamping so hard I lost my camera, and I had to run back to retrieve it. This was the second time that happened, but within sight of the finish it’s a bit more spectacular. And even with dropping it twice I was still 5 minutes faster than I had been in Totnes: 51.33! Not bad at all, if you ask me. I’m liking this! When’s the next race?

The finish! Even if that's unreadable...

This is getting a familiar sight on this blog: me with a medal!

Work, drugs and cleaning

There is such a thing as Providence. And I don’t mean the pub a few minutes walking from university; I mean some higher power that looks after us. Coming back from Scotland I was faced with the unnerving proximity of a conference, a daunting mass of lab work I should have finished long ago, an elusive bloke, and a backlog of maintenance on things such as outdoor equipment. Handling all that, and maintaining an acceptable running shape, requires some dedication and tenacity.

I already mentioned my struggle with one of my water bladders which was taken over by algae. I ordered a new nozzle for it as the old one had been bitten through and was now leaking, and added a cleaning kit with brushes of which I hope they are more effective than my chamois leather solution. And on a day I was working late, trying to get ready for the conference, they arrived.

I got an email saying there was an odd-shaped package for me in the post room. Odd-shaped? What would be so odd with the items I had ordered? I opened it and found that the bulk of the package was not my order, but a promotional gift. A veritable bucket of a mug!

I’m still working long days, including weekends, in order to try to keep up with life, and this mug might very well facilitate such behaviour. What starts with a dirty water bag ends in gallons of coffee in the office! And I blogged before about my attempts to consume less caffeine, but I think that thought has now gone down the drain…