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Tales from the River
A storytelling journey along the River Trent, from the source to the sea
Day 21 – Scunthorpe to Alkborough, the end
Posted on September 26, 2012 by sophiacollins
Miles walked: 8.5
Weather: Rain, rain, rain until lunchtime. Then just clouds.
A journey like this is an odd thing. In a sense, you have a goal that you're heading towards – the end of the river. But it's not like you want to reach it. If what we wanted was to go to Trent Falls, we could have just got a bus there. What we wanted was to walk the river.
We've spent three weeks heading for Trent Falls, so there's a sense of excitement at nearing our goal. But now it's like the last day of your holiday. We've loved this adventure, we don't want it to end. We feel conflicted.
I woke up early and Trent Falls immediately popped into my head. I knew I couldn't get back to sleep, so I carefully slithered out to avoid waking Ross. Downstairs Sadie was fixing the kids' breakfasts and they were all getting ready for school. In the rhythms of family life, it felt like a companionable little haven. I cranked up the laptop and tried to catch up with blogging.
Sadie and Rob got in touch with us through couch-surfer, where we'd posted a plea for hosts along our route. They've been following our progress all the way and been lovely and supportive. It was great to be somewhere people got what we were about and what we're doing. It felt like they were part of it. But it did mean that every time I started a funny story, I'd suddenly realise half-way through that I'd put it on the blog and they'd probably read it. Normally people don't have to know how recycled your funny lines are.
Rob was going to come and walk this last day's stretch with us. Looking at the incessant rain, I felt kind of guilty we were dragging him out on what was clearly not going to be our best day's walking.
We were also about to walk off the edge of our OS map – I was too stingy to buy the last one, cos it covered so little of the route. 'How hard can it be to follow the river when it's this big?', I'd thought, from the comfort of home. Now I worried we were going to inflict our vagueness and ineptitude on a kind and blameless host. Ross says I worry too much about things. I call it consideration. After all, he thinks it's OK to leave the toilet seat up in other people's houses…
We agreed we'd set off walking at 10am from this side of Keadby Bridge, where Sadie had picked us up yesterday. It's about 15 mins away by car, but Rob's been reading our blog, he suggested we set off at 9.30am. Obviously we were ready about 9.45am, so we reached the car park by the bridge just in time.
A guy called Terry, who I knew from twitter, kindly came to meet us there and explained the best route to take. Terry's a keen canoeist and environmentalist. He's canoed the length of the Thames, the Severn and the Trent – the three largest rivers in Britain – and lives near the bank of the Trent just north of Scunthorpe. He canoes on the Trent as much as he can, picking up any litter he finds on his way. He told us he's 61, but I'd have guessed 50. Keeping active and doing what you love is obviously good for you.
Armed with Terry's directions and the last mile or so of Ordnance Survey map, we set off into the rain. There's wharves along the east side of the river here, so we were walking a bit inland, along the road instead. Fast, but cheerless.
After a bit, the road bent back to the bank, and suddenly we found ourselves just a few yards from the river. We realised with a start that it was days since we'd been this close to the water. Since Holme on day 17, we've mainly been walking on flood defence embankments or roads, both set a little back from the Trent. Here the embankment was much lower than it's been for days. We wondered what happens when the river's in flood. But maybe, it being so wide here, it takes a shitload of water to raise the river even a foot or two.
We got as far as Flixborough Wharf, but 'No entry without full safety equipment' signs persuaded us to detour round that. 28 people were killed here in 1974 when a chemical plant exploded, safety-consciousness seemed pretty reasonable. The Flixborough explosion was something the audience yesterday at Scunthorpe Arts Centre talked about, obviously a significant event in local memory.
It happened on a Saturday when the plant was lightly staffed – if it had been a weekday, hundreds would have been killed.
Two months prior to the explosion, a crack was discovered in the number 5 reactor. It was decided to install a temporary 50 cm (20 inch) diameter pipe to bypass the leaking reactor to allow continued operation of the plant while repairs were made.
Wikipedia, Flixborough Disaster
The temporary pipe ruptured. One woman said her aunt was a nurse at the time, and she remembers the bodies lying outside A&E, because there wasn't enough room to deal with all the injured. Another woman remembers how everyone in Scunthorpe heard the explosion, but they weren't sure if it was one of the steelworks or if it was the chemical plant. So many people had friends or relatives who worked at one or the other, they all headed out to try to find out what had happened. People were also all out for a Gala that day. The roads were chaos and the emergency services could only get to the site by screaming down the hard shoulder. She was just a kid, but remembers it vividly.
The wikipedia page makes sad reading, for the lack of safety-testing and expertise that lead to the explosion, and for the cover-up afterwards. 1,800 buildings within a mile of the site were damaged in the explosion. The 18 employees in the control room were killed instantly. The plant was rebuilt, in the teeth of local objections, but it closed down a few years later anyway. The price of nylon had dropped, so it didn't make money any more.
We skirted the site, but then cut through yet another industrial estate, heading for a footpath disappearing tantalisingly off the edge of our map. It amuses me greatly the way industrial estates usually have numbered roads, that sound (pace New York), incongruously glamorous.
We wandered, unglamorously, round the industrial estate, having to backtrack a bit due to my mistaken map-reading, until we found our way out the other side. I felt guilty some more for us dragging patient Rob on our rainy perambulations. Once we were on the footpath we nominally sheltered under a railway bridge and ate a sandwich. No time for cups of tea today. We headed up the hill, past Burton Woods in the rain, and eventually found ourselves in Burton upon Stather. Another pretty but real little place we'd never have had occasion to visit if we weren't following a river from one end to the other.
After some google mapping and guesswork, we headed through the churchyard and took a footpath that seemed to head along the ridge-top. Until google maps realises that you can walk along footpaths – or even seems to know they exist – it's a complete joke them pretending to have walking directions. No, I'm not making a 5 mile detour along roads when there's a footpath taking me exactly where I want to go. The footpath has been there for probably hundreds of years longer than the road, how come you don't know about it? Call yourself a map?
It stopped raining about now, and we strode through the dripping woods, feeling like Robin Hood (well, I was, anyway) and rescinding our cynicism about the Met Office's predictions. Terry, the canoe man, had driven up to Alkborough and walked back along the cliff top to meet us. He walked with us the last stretch.
Not long after we met Terry came a gap in the trees, and suddenly we could see Trent Falls ahead of us. It's not a waterfall or anything, so I don't really know why it's called that. It's just where the Trent joins the Ouse and forms the Humber Estuary. There isn't actually a River Humber per se. No, I didn't realise that either, before I started researching this. Bit of a swizz, eh? The Trent and the Ouse do all the hard work, and then the so-called Humber steals all the glory…
I'm not sure I can put into words how I felt. But obviously I'm going to give it a shot.
There was a real joy and a sense of excitement that the end was in sight. Being the closet romantic that I am, it felt mythical, like we were in an epic poem, or Lord of the Rings. Until now, we'd been just doing stuff, and however fun it was, it was just mundane, familiar stuff. Mainly, it must be said, walking and drinking tea. Suddenly I felt the urge to call up the elves, cast a spell, toss my raven-black hair* in the wind. I wanted an enchanted sword, and to start declaiming in cod-Olde English, 'Stout companions, the end of our quest draws near and we fain must soon part ways!'
I probably read too many fantasy novels as a teenager.
We couldn't quite believe we'd nearly done it. And we felt obscurely proud of the River Trent – our stout companion and trusty guide, these past few weeks. 'We knew you when you were just a little trickle, and now, see how you've grown!'
Terry told us that just before the confluence, the Trent is about 3/4 of a mile across. In Stoke-on-Trent it's a stream that wouldn't come half-way up your wellies most days. At Biddulph Moor it's little more than a muddy bit of a field. And look at it now.
We finally broke out of the woods and found ourselves by Julian's Bower, with the confluence and Alkborough Flats wetlands below us.
We made it, ah!
This was our Plan A venue for the last event, but although it had stopped raining, it still seemed a bit too wet. Plan B was the Paddocks Tea Rooms (run, gloriously, by a woman called Mrs Ogg), so we headed round the corner to there.
Ross's brother and his girlfriend had very kindly driven two hours down from York to see us do our last event. And Sadie had come to pick Rob up. It felt like a little get together. We ordered tea (of course), and Terry, to add to all his other kindnesses, treated us to bacon and egg butties. With all due respect to Bev Gibbs, I think this was the best bacon butty I've ever had.
We then began our last show. Quite a few people had come along to see us – mainly from the local WI and the local history group. But there were also a few people who'd just been in the tea rooms anyway, and some of them felt the need to carry on talking as loudly as possible throughout the show. Even though they were furthest away from us and could easily have talked to each other more quietly. To be fair, I suppose we were interrupting their dinner without asking.
There was also a toilet door just behind me that had a theatrically loud creak, an incredibly loud milk-frothing machine, and an unceasing crashing of crockery from the kitchen area. It was one of those spaces that's all hard surfaces, with no soft furnishings to absorb sound, so it must always be really loud in there. Ross, sound engineer that he is, has been explaining the acoustic properties of different spaces to me as we've gone along.
However, after three weeks of this, having endured interruptions from dogs, dinners, engines, ice-crushing machines, locks, rain and parental offers of pork pie, I am unfazed by such things, and carried on regardless. Ross managed his bit with aplomb – for the last few days he's been doing a story too, to help break things up a bit, now we don't have Dad and his songs.
I could see he stumbled slightly over the fact that he was telling a story about him and his brother when they were kids, and that his brother was right there, and not expecting it. But Ross carried on like a trooper. The old ladies loved his story. It's the twinkly eyes and mass of curly hair that gets them, I reckon.
They all shared their memories of the river afterwards, and said we were welcome in their village any time. High praise indeed!
Part of me wanted brass bands, champagne, the Mayor turning up and handing us bouquets of flowers. But this was appropriately mundane and tea-themed. Part of us still couldn't believe we'd done it. Even now (I'm writing this five days later, due to, you know, sleep and stuff) it seems incredible.
We set off in Sam's car up to Ross's Mum's house, feeling a mixture of emotions. Happy and contented, but sad it was over. We almost wanted to set off walking straight up the Ouse to York. After all, it was right there! As we drove, Ross and I were hatching plans for our next river…
*It's brown actually, but if this were a fantasy novel, it would be raven-black. Also my breasts would be bigger. And I sure as hell wouldn't be wearing baggy beige walking trousers.
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Day 19 – Gainsborough to West Stockwith
Weather: Mainly sunny, but cold and windy
One reason we were glad to push on to Gainsborough last night was there was an Aegir predicted for this morning. We'd been thinking that given our laggardliness, we weren't that likely to get up in time to walk from Marton to Gainsborough in time to see it. But even we could manage to see it if we were on site.
The Aegir is a bore – like a tidal wave coming up the river. It's named after the Norse god of the sea. The Vikings invaded down the Trent, and a lot of the place names round here reflect that influence. They used to say that the Aegir was when the sea god was angry. And that he would take three lives a year.
A big Aegir can be 5 feet tall, and travels down the river 'at the speed of a galloping horse' (thank you again, Mr Fort). It's caused by a big tide coming in, magnified by the funnel of the Humber Estuary. The Bristol Channel does the same funnelling for the Severn Bore.
I've read in lots of places that the Trent and the Severn are the only two rivers in Britain with a bore, but according to wikipedia, there are ones on loads of British rivers. It's just that the Severn and the Trent ones are the largest and most reliable.
The Trent Aegir varies in size and the Environment Agency has a handy prediction chart on their website. Aegirs vary in size from one to five stars. In the whole of 2012 there were only one or two star bores predicted. Today's was supposed to be a two star. The EA chart said it should come at 9.52am, but every local we spoke to said it would be an hour earlier than that.
We came down for breakfast at 8am, expecting an Aegir at 8.50ish. Ross finished eating quickly, and went upstairs to pack, planning to come back down for 8.50am. At 8.40am I was just mopping up my egg, when the guesthouse woman shouted, 'It's coming!' from her kitchen. I could hear a sort of rumbling noise. I ran through, and we both leaned over her sink to watch a swell of water travel upriver, sloshing and breaking at the bends. Locals 1, Environment Agency 0.
It was maybe a couple of feet high. Two things surprised me about it. One was that the front looked more like a swell, a rise in the water. It didn't break like a wave. The other was that the water behind the front, while not quite as high as the wavefront, was much higher than the water ahead of it. It wasn't like a wave travelling along the river, it was like a higher step of river barrelling upstream.
You could see how you wouldn't want to be out in a canoe on it.
Ross was disappointed to miss it. I tried to reassure him it hadn't been that impressive. We finished packing and frantically googled for places to stay in West Stockwith (where we were due to perform at 3pm), or a few miles further on from it. We discovered that the Waterfront Inn, where we were due to perform that afternoon, did B+B. We phoned and they said they had been doing up a new room and it might be ready in time. 'We're hanging the curtains now'. We felt like the Queen.
West Stockwith is only 5.5miles on from Gainsborough, so we had plenty of time. Of course this meant we could go for a cup of tea. We headed into Gainsborough, where Reeds Coffee Shop had offered to host an event. Sadly we'd already arranged West Stockwith when we heard from then, but I'd said we'd pop in on the way and do something little if there were people around.
There were no customers in the coffee shop when we arrived, but they gave us a lovely (free!) pot of tea anyway. The sun was shining (despite the cold wind) and they were so nice in the coffee shop, that we warmed to Gainsborough a lot. A few people came in and we eavesdropped on their chats about the Aegir. Mainly they discussed how the predictions this year are totally off, when last year's were really good. 'I bet they've got a new man doing it', was the diagnosis.
Heavy rain was predicted for the next couple of days, and Ross had left his waterproof at Mum and Dad's. We headed further into town to look for a charity shop. Gainsborough Market Square was a lot nicer than our wanderings last night had suggested. Although there were still a lot of dead pubs and derelict buildings. Several people we spoke to later said, 'You should have seen it ten years ago – it's so much better than it was.'
I found an amazing fringed cardigan in one shop, which I decided was appropriately storytellery, and light enough I could bear the extra weight of carrying it. I have a bit of a charity shop addiction. Ross found a semi-waterproof jacket, with bright yellow arms ('I look like I'm disguised as a wasp!'), and we had a nice chat with the staff about the Trent and the Aegir.
We set off to see Gainsborough Old Hall, pausing outside the shop to argue about the best way to get there. The woman from the charity shop saw us looking at the map and came out to help. She walked round the corner to show us the way and point out other sights of interest. People in Gainsborough were really so nice. Occasioning, of course, more smugness about the North from Ross.
Gainsborough Old Hall was a striking timber-framed Medieval manor house. We decided this was the perfect setting for Ross to play Greensleeves on his ukelele. There's a little video of him doing that below.
We set off, eventually, for West Stockwith, and strode along in the sunshine. We arrived at the Waterfront Inn at 2.30 and they immediately made us a lovely cup of tea. It's set looking out over a marina and feels like the seaside. We loved West Stockwith.
Karen and Stu, the couple who ran the pub, were so kind and welcoming. From the first moment we arrived, locals were coming in for a quick pint to catch up and have a chat with them. They were all interested in what we were doing and happy to tell us stuff about the history of the place and the life of the river in times gone by.
Ross immediately declared West Stockwith his favourite place we'd visited. Of course we later discovered it's actually in South Yorkshire – the only place we'd been that was in Yorkshire. He's such a Yorkshire snob.
It turned out that when we set up the performance time, they'd thought we would be going on somewhere else later that evening. In fact they'd have preferred us to do it later when more people were around. I can't properly remember the conversation we had when setting it up, it was a shame we hadn't all realised this then and could have scheduled things differently. We discussed it with them and agreed to do it later on when more people were around, but of course there wasn't a chance to let lots of people know.
We chilled out and wandered around, exclaiming at how nice West Stockwith was in the sunshine. About 7pm we started the show, to, admittedly, a small audience. One couple in particular though were really supportive and interested. They came to talk to us afterwards, and bought us drinks, and they were utterly lovely.
She used to be a local news journalist, we talked about how your balance your responsibility to journalism with your responsibility to your humanity. He was born in a Leeds terrace, but joined the army at 18, became an engineer, and did well for himself.
They're both retired now, and clearly still totally in love. She'd grown up in Lancashire, but moved this side of the pennines to be with him. They bickered about who'd swept who off their feet. They have a pet blackbird who they rescued as a fledgling from the neighbour's cat. 'People think I'm eccentric, but I don't care at all.'
Once again I thought what a joy it's been to meet some of the people we've met doing this. It's really been all about the people.
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Day 14 – Gunthorpe Village Hall
No walking today, just errands and a show in the evening. As we've spent all our money (mainly on tea I think, boringly), I had to go into Nottingham and try to take money out of my online savings account. Unfortunately, as it's a savings account that I very rarely interact with, I had to do this armed only with the cashcard and a smile. I didn't know the PIN number, customer number, or basically any of the security information.
I had this conversation with the branch manager that mainly involved him suggesting solutions which I then had to stymie with further evidence of my rubbishness. I ended up telling him about Tales from the River, to explain why it was no good him sending me out a new PIN to the address they have for me, why all my paperwork was in storage 300 miles away and why I kind of urgently needed the money. God knows what he wrote on the form, 'Customer is engaged on improbable long-distance trek.'
But he authorised an emergency transfer, bless 'im, and the teller, Leah, who did all the paperwork and sorted me out couldn't have been nicer or more helpful. I worked in a shop years ago and I know customers mostly only complain and never praise all the good service they receive. So I'd like to say, hurrah for Nationwide Building Society Nottingham branch!
That evening's show at Gunthorpe Village Hall was great. I'm proud to say that we were the first people to perform on their new stage. It's only a little platform about 18 inches tall, but still.
About 20 people came to see us, and several of them weren't even our relatives. There was one contrary man, who seemed to want to interrupt and criticise all the time, and show how much he knew, but who then refused to engage in the storysharing bit. I found that quite odd. I mean, here's a part of the event deliberately designed to give everyone a chance to say things, but you don't want to say things in it. However, you do want to say things when other people are talking on stage.
When he first arrived we were putting out chairs. He made a beeline for me, and pulled out a photo. It showed him standing with a foot each side of a small stream. I said, 'Is that near the start of the Trent?' He said, 'You reckon you've been there. Don't you know?!'
Perhaps this is a failing on my part, but one small stream looks much like another to me. I didn't stand at Biddulph Moor memorising each tussock of grass, in case someone set me a photo-based stream-identification puzzle later…
He told us, before the show, that he lived on the Trent, a few miles beyond Gunthorpe, and that we should pop in for a cup of tea in the morning, when we were heading towards Newark. I don't think he enjoyed the show though, cos the next morning he phoned me, basically to dis-invite us. He described exactly where his house was, then said, 'We'll look out for you and wave at you as you walk past.' It was most odd.
In the part of the event where people got chatting about their stories, he and his wife sat stony-faced, not talking to anyone. I set my brother on the old guy, circled round the other side and sat down next to his wife. I smiled and said, 'What Trent stories can you tell me?' She looked nervous and said, 'Oh, I don't have any stories.' and fell silent again. I asked what her earliest memory of the Trent was, and she started telling me about the pleasure boats, when she was a girl, before the war.
The boats went from Victoria Embankment in Nottingham, to Colwick (about 3 miles away), where there used to be an artificial 'pleasure beach'. They'd go on a Sunday and eat ice creams and build sandcastles. It was like a trip to the seaside, for people who couldn't make it to the seaside. They'd loved going to Colwick.
I'd had no idea about this. I was fascinated. But then the husband turned round and started telling me statistics about locks on the Trent and she went quiet again. It's funny, the things you learn doing this walk.
Day 12 – Nottingham to Gunthorpe
Miles walked: about 11
Weather: lots of rain, but not too heavy, and the sun came out on the last stretch.
Laurel and Leigh gave us an excellent breakfast of porridge – nothing better to set you up for walking, IMHO. And let us each have a go in their massage chair, bless them. We didn't want to leave really. But eventually we tore ourselves away from their hospitality and set off during a break in the rain.
The Trent Valley Way follows the south side of the river for the next stretch, but we decided to take the north side, so we could visit my brother in Burton Joyce on the way. It had to be either/or, because there are no bridges across the Trent between Lady Bay Bridge in Nottingham and Gunthorpe Bridge about 10 miles east.
There are footpaths most of the way on the north side, but it did mean we had to walk through a couple of industrial estates near the start. 'Tirra lirra by the river' this ain't. But that's one of the things I like about it – we aren't doing an edited highlights tour of the pretty bits, we're walking the whole river. Sewage works, factories and all.
Between two industrial estates we had the brief joy of Colwick Park. There we found a ruined church, filled with trees.
A ruined church, filled with trees
As we were going through Colwick Industrial Estate a man shouted over to us, and you can hear what happened next in the audio clip at the bottom.
We made good time, apart from all our tea and food stops. We were trying to make it to Nathan's house, and should have been there by three, but it was raining and we were starving, so we stopped for a baked potato at the Ferry Boat near Stoke Bardolph.
We sheltered from the rain under a railway bridge.
Good baked potato and ample salad with it, 8/10. We dived on it like starving people, so we forgot to take a photo (I know you are desperate for photos of our every meal and cup of tea…).
So, of course, by the time we got to Nathan's he'd gone out. Inconsiderate sibling. We were forced to have a pint in the Lord Nelson and wait. Not bad, but not as good as the Burton Bridge beer.
Happily, by the time we'd had a pint with Nathy and regaled him with our tales, it had stopped raining and the sun had come out. So we walked a happy last couple of miles, picking blackberries and singing as we went.
It's cool to think we've now done 110miles, but sad to think it'll soon all be over. We want to walk more rivers!
Gunthorpe is where my parents now live, and I know the river well here. Local legend has it that Dick Turpin used to cross the river near here, at a ford, to avoid the authorities who'd watch the main bridges. But I expect half the villages on this part of the Trent say that.
There's been a river crossing near here for thousands of years: the Romans had a substantial town nearby – Margidunum, whose site was near Bingham – to service people travelling north and using the river crossing. Sadly they've just built a big roundabout pretty much on the site of Margidunum, but to be honest there wasn't anything to see anyway.
Day 11 – still in Nottingham
Today was a day off from walking. Woohoo! Much as we like walking (we'd be really stupid to be doing this otherwise, eh?), it's good to get a chance to rest your legs occasionally. But as we'd got two gigs in Nottingham, we didn't need to walk anywhere today.
We woke up on the sofa cushions on Matt's sitting room floor, being snuffled by a friendly dog. After a fortifying cup of tea, we set off into town on the 28 bus. We marvelled at the efficiency and value of Nottingham's bus services, compared to Bristol's (have I mentioned how much I despise FirstBus?).
We ran round Nottingham doing errands. This is my home town and it was nice to be surrounded by familiar accents. And after a fortnight peering at maps all day long, it was also a joy to be doing errands somewhere you know where everything is.
Paul Reeves from the Environment Agency has been following our progress online, and invited us for a cup of tea, from their cafeteria machine. So, we headed back down to Trent Bridge. Our arrival in walking boots and backpacks amazed one of his colleagues. She'd thought he was joking when he said he was getting a visit from two people who were walking the length of the River Trent.
Paul works on several tributaries of the Trent (the Erewash and the Derwent, among others), improving the quality of the rivers. He advised us to eschew the tea in favour of a latte (which was acceptable) and he told us about his work.
You may have heard of the Water Framework Directive. It's basically a scoring system for rivers. Rivers get scores in lots of categories (phosphates in the water, fish numbers, etc) and they need to get the right scores in all categories to pass muster. Someone like Paul's job is to try to get their rivers up to scratch.
It made me feel a bit sad that these days even rivers are set tests and told they're failing. Although realistically, of course I think we should try to improve rivers and look after them. I just wonder what in the big picture gets missed when you focus on specific, individual targets.
Do you know what weirs are for? It came up in conversation with Paul and I was kind of surprised to realise I had no idea. I asked everyone at the event that night, and they didn't know either. Listen to the audio below to find out the answer…
Unfortunately weirs stop fish going upstream to spawn. Which means no fish. Which means no otters, herons, anything that lives on fish. One of the things Paul and his colleagues are doing is getting weirs taken out of rivers where possible. Or where that's not possible, putting in bypasses fish can swim up.
What I find fascinating is the tensions between different ideas of what 'improving the river' means. This has come up several times in conversation with professionals working with rivers. For example shopping trolleys are actually really good fish shelters. Taking them out improves the navigation, and the look of the river, but it's not the best thing to do for the ecosystem…
After saying goodbye to Paul, and arranging to meet up with some of his colleagues down river, we headed up to the University for a gig as part of a conference there. The conference theme was interdisciplinarity and we were there to show a bit of interdisciplinary public engagement in action.
This went brilliantly (imho). You can hear a snippet of it, and us discussing it, in the audio below. We did our show, and then got the delegates swapping their stories about rivers. We really enjoyed it, and James, one of the organisers said it was one of the highlights of the conference. Yay!
We then headed down to Lady Bay to meet Laurel, our hostess for the evening. It turned out that Laurel used to be a science teacher and had heard about the project from a science communication mailing list. I immediately felt at home – among my fellow geeks at last!;-)
It was a great evening – Laurel and her sister were very welcoming and fed us wine, an excellent coq au vin and even cheesecake. Ross then entertained us all on the ukelele while Laurel did her physio exercises. Then, when Laurel's husband Leigh got home, I told everyone a story.
This was singing for our supper, troubadour-style, just as we'd envisaged it. They even had a super-comfortable bed in the spare room, and sheets that smelt of lavender. And a massage chair!
We felt like this was the day everything went right. I was glad it was in Nottingham, Queen of the Midlands:-)
Day 10 – Sawley to Nottingham
Miles: About 12
Weather: Cloudy and damp feeling at times, but no actual rain.
After our slightly cheaty night at Mum and Dad's house, Dad, bless his cotton socks, drove us back to Sawley in the morning. Obviously we had to then stop immediately for a cup of tea at Sawley Marina. The cafe wasn't open, but the woman told us that they had a fantastic tea-making machine in the shop.
Your tea is now loading…
The shop tea-making machine was absurdly high tech. But I have to say, it did not make a good cup of tea. And it was UHT milk again. If I had my way that stuff would be banned… It did have the benefit of cheapness though. At 65p a cup it was the second cheapest tea we've encountered.
We walked on to Trent Lock, where we had a much better (but more expensive) cup of tea. Then on towards Nottingham. We walked through Attenborough Nature Reserve, which was lovely. Had lunch at the brilliant Boathouse Cafe in Beeston Marina. They've got loads of old photos of the local area all over the walls. And the fish and chips were only £4. There's a short audio thingy of that part of the day below.
The kind of history people near rivers remember…
Just after Beeston Marina, a dog-walking couple spotted Ross's ukelele and said, 'Are you those people who are walking the River Trent? We read about you in the paper.' That was bizarre. We felt mildly famous.
Then Ross's foot started really hurting. He sprained his ankle earlier in the year, and that seemed to flare up again. It got the the point where he could only walk really slowly, and the last mile took us an hour, with Ross hobbling and leaning on my shoulder. We should have got to Nottingham by 4ish, but in fact, we limped into the Trent Bridge Inn at gone 6pm.
We were very glad to see the pub. Even gladder to find they had wifi, ample plug sockets, and a range of excellent ciders on tap. And to cap it all, two pints came to £3.98. What more could one ask for in a pub?
After a bit of admin and a pint, we headed to the City Gallery, for Story Club. There was a small turn out, but as Dad said, 'You don't need a big audience, but an appreciative audience is nice.' Story club were a very attentive audience, and after we'd done our show, we got them telling us their stories to do with rivers.
My favourite was from an interesting guy called Lee. He told us the little snippet that when Gutenberg was showing people his first printing press (made from an adapted wine press), they mocked him. They asked how he planned to change the world with a wine press. Gutenberg replied, 'Yes, it is a press, certainly, but a press from which shall flow in inexhaustible streams, the most abundant and most marvelous liquor that has ever flowed to relieve the thirst of men!' I love that metaphor of knowledge as a flow of water.
The day had one extra treat in store – Matt, who runs Story Club, was our host for the night, and when we got back to his house he produced a foot spa. Just what we needed!
Day 9 – Swarkestone Bridge to Sawley
Posted on September 9, 2012 by sophiacollins
Weather: Glorious, 26degC and not a cloud in the sky!
We had an excellent night's sleep on Bridge Farm's very comfy bed. Then had an excellent breakfast, with proper (Yorkshire) tea. (Our tea obssession continues unabated). Hallelujah. It was our best cup of tea so far. What better start to the day?
We faffed about putting up blogposts and the like until 10.30am, then set off in the blazing sunshine, enjoying the luxury of the fact that the footpath we needed passed right by Bridge Farm's door. No trudging a couple of dispiriting miles back to the river for us today. No sirree.
The view of Swarkestone Bridge was impressive, and the Trent was glittering in the sunshine. We tripped along, full of the joys of an Indian Summer (and bacon and eggs). We followed the Trent for a bit, then set off on footpaths across fields to get to the Trent and Mersey canal. You can't follow the Trent for part of the way here because of all the gravel workings. (Lots of alluvium and gravel round here, mostly dumped by the mega River Trent when it was fed by melting glaciers at the end of the last Ice Age, fact fans.)
So we fair skipped along the canal – you can make good time along canal towpaths. Although we'd pause occasionally to stuff our faces with blackberries. We're getting half our vitamins from foraging, I swear. It's one of the great things about doing the walk this time of year. Well, that and the fact that it's rained all the rest of the summer.
We have been so incredibly lucky with the weather. If we'd done this in August it would really have been grim. As it is, the back of my neck now is the brownest it's ever been. That's the bit that's getting the most sun, so I couldn't claim to be an even colour, but still…
Anyway, we came to a big lock that had TWO narrowboats going through at once. We thought that was VERY exciting, so we stopped to watch, and Ross wanted to record the sound of it. If you've ever wanted to know what two narrowboats going through a lock sound like, then click play below.
Shardlow is a small town, a couple of miles before Sawley, and it's where the river itself is officially navigable from. We got there about 1pm, in plenty of time to get to Sawley for 3pm, decided to stop for a cup of tea. Of course.
The tea was a 5/10 – real milk, a complimentary chocolate and a fancy teapot, BUT PG Tips teabags (they are always weak) and, horror of horrors, they gave us pots of hot water and teabags separate. Where were we, America? Surely everyone in Britain knows the tea won't mash right if the water isn't just boiled when it goes onto the teabag? They had excellent wifi though, and by that and the design of the teapots we deduced we were in a Marstons pub. Yes, we have got to the point where we can spot the pub chain by their tea and their wifi – two things central to our lives on this trip.
Then somehow it was 2.30pm and we were only a few mins on from Shardlow. I think I may have spotted our timekeeping problem. Whenever we look like being in enough time for things, we think, 'Oh, we've got bags of time' and start faffing about, until the spare time is all gone. So it was a forced-march the rest of the way to Sawley (did I mention how hot it was?), and we panted into the pub, sweating profusely, at 2.52pm. Bags of time, see?
The show went OK. We did it outside in the beer garden, but that was quite big, and it was windy and not everyone could hear us. I tried to be as loud as I could manage, but it's hard to storytell at shouting volume – you lose the variation in tone and texture. Also, the sound of the ukelele doesn't carry that well, it being a small-bodied instrument. So all the little musical jokes we've put in were only working for the nearest tables. And to be honest, of those who could hear us, I think only about half were listening.
But a lovely man called John came up to see us afterwards. He'd read about us in the paper, and come from Gedling (about 20 miles away) specially to see us. I was really touched. He said my stories were wonderful, which was very kind of him. And that Dad has a fantastic voice, which is true. He also said I should become a teacher. I'm not sure that's a good review, but Mum and Dad were both teachers. You obviously can't escape heredity…*
As we'd failed to find anywhere to stay nearby, Dad drove us the 20 miles to their house. The car journey made Ross a bit carsick – we've got out of practice at travelling so fast! But wonder of wonders Mum and Dad have a bath, so now we are properly clean and our aching limbs soothed. And Ross's laptop is here. So we can both be on the internet at once – yay, togetherness!
It feels kind of strange and cheaty to be at home now and have familiar things everywhere. But we'll get the train back to Long Eaton in the morning, and carry on walking where we left off. Tomorrow night we should be in Nottingham, where we're doing two gigs, on subsequent days. Then we walk back here to Gunthorpe again.
It's kind of depressing that it will take us two days to walk what it's taken us half an hour in the car to do today. But hey, that's walking for you. At least we're not releasing (much) CO2.
*Don't write in, geneticists, it's a joke.
P.S. Me and Ross's feet look disgusting. Do not look at the following pics while eating your dinner.
Ross's blister complex is escaping out of the sides of his mass of compeed.
The great weeping sore on my heel, covered by compeed, which is then held on by zinc oxide tape. Compeed is the wonder substance. The sore wasn't even hurting today, once I'd got the compeed on it.
Categories: Recordings, The Journey	| 1 Comment
Day 8 – Burton to Swarkestone Bridge
Weather: Absolutely roasting
Stiles crossed: Far too many
Day 8 was sort of a day off, as we didn't have an event to do, so (apart from the walking) we got to relax a bit. As an experiment, we decided to do our report for the day verbally, so it's below, on soundcloud.
We stayed for the night at Bridge Farm, Swarkestone, which is really lovely and we thoroughly recommend it. We can't find anywhere to stay tonight in/near Sawley, so if you know anyone hospitable who lives there, we'll love you forever. We are very polite house-guests and we can tell them stories in exchange!
Day 7 – Barton to Burton
Miles walked: Only about 7
Weather: Glorious blazing sunshine
We had an easy day's walking. Although we were sad to leave the lovely Shoulder of Mutton, it was a nice day. It was roasting hot, and Ross has turned quite pink. I've turned a most impressive brown – on one side anyway. I suppose we need to walk the river the other way to get an even tan… We weren't expecting to get a tan at all walking an English river in September.
We got to The Burton Bridge Inn in plenty of time, and sat out the back having a lovely cup of tea (regular readers will have noticed our tea obsession) and running through the show, looking at the brewery behind.
They'd got barrels upon barrels of beer stacked up in the yard of the brewery. One regular told us he'd taken a mate to the pub for the first time, and when his mate saw outside, he said, 'Blimey, they get through a lot of beer in this pub!' The Burton Bridge Brewery actually serves eight pubs in Burton, so it's not as bad as he thought…
The event went great. A mate of mine from Bristol was up visiting a friend in Derby, so they came along, and it was nice to see a friendly face. Alison and Tony, our couchsurfing hosts for the evening came along too, so that was nice. Also, a man who'd come out on a date, but been stood up, so he thought he'd come and see us instead. He said it was the most original thing he'd ever seen, and he seemed to have a whale of a time. That made us happy.
Other highlights were a Chinese woman, who didn't seem to understand we were doing a performance, and kept trying to interrupt to chat to us. At one point, half way through Dad singing a heartfelt song, she loudly asked him how long he'd been playing guitar. I bet that never happens to Bob Dylan.
Also, I liked Geoff from the brewery buying us a round of drinks:-). But the absolute highlight was getting to tell the story of why Burton beer was the best, actually in a pub in Burton, while drinking some of it. What could be more appropriate?
So below is a recording of it. You'll notice it's enlivened by heckling and interjections from Mum and Dad. This really is Terry and June on tour at times.
I'd also like to say thanks to Alison and Tony, our lovely hosts for the evening, who were kindness itself. And even had a rabbit called Ross, which made me laugh. We were sorry not to meet their kids, who we heard all about – Adele is an opera singer and actress and Adam a sports journalist. You could tell they were in equal parts proud of and bemused by their offspring. I like to think our parents feel a bit the same about us. When they aren't feeling exasperated.
Day 4 – Stone to Rugeley
Weather: Cloudy and a bit of drizzle in the morning, then glorious sunshine
Miles: About 15 miles
We had a predictably cheerless breakfast at the motorway services. Is there anywhere with less atmosphere than a motorway service station? We opted for the soup and a sandwich deal though, which gave us a hearty bowl of leek and potato soup and a packed lunch for later. Canny, eh?
We found a much easier way through the fence than where we'd jumped into the ditch the day before. We'd have seen it the night before if there'd been more light… Then tiptoed through the cow field, but the cows weren't in evidence, so that was all OK.
We followed what should have been a footpath back to the Trent, but in several places there were crops all across the field and we had to pick our way through nettles down the side. One field was covered in slurry, and crossing this it started to rain. We were really cursing the farmer at that point.
We mainly ended up on the canal towpath again, for lack of footpaths. But handily we've decided we like towpaths. Narrowboaters all seem so chilled and friendly. And the walking is easy.
Our event was at the Wolseley Centre, which is where the HQ of Staffs Wildlife is. We arrived there in absolutely blazing sunshine, felt excited to see our posters up on their wall, and were directed out to a lovely 'star tent' they'd put up for us on the far side of their lake.
Not many people had turned up specially to see us, but we stopped people as they walked past and asked if they wanted a story. We told stories to little groups and pairs of people and had a proper chat with them. It meant we could also pick stories to suit the audience and it worked really well.
Sitting there by the side of the lake in the sunshine, with birds singing and chatting to people with no pressure made for a really magical afternoon. I made a six year old hoot with laughter with my impression of an elephant, which was great.
But the highspot of the day was Jackie and Tim, a couple who stopped and chatted to us, and the story they told about blagging in to see Michele Obama speak. Ross recorded it and you can hear it below.
After that we made our way into Rugeley, which seemed like a lovely friendly town. After a slightly panicked search for accommodation, we ended up at the Cedar Tree Hotel, which was just perfect. They couldn't have been nicer. After we missed dinner at the local pub, we ended up getting a takeaway, a bit worried they wouldn't like us bringing it in. Quite the contrary, when the woman at the desk saw it, she just said, 'Do you want me to get you some plates for that?' And most importantly, in the morning, we got the best (read strongest, we were both born in Yorkshire) cup of tea we've had on this trip. We loved them!
"That was the most original thing I have ever seen." - A bloke in the pub in Burton
What's the point of public engagement?
All about trying to get rid of my huge disgusting verruca
Day 1 – Biddulph Grange to Norton Green
Tales from the River, the background
Press Release: Tales from the River Trent
Which river do you think we should do next?
Sophia Collins talesfromtheriver@gmail.com 07970773791
Rivulet 5: Rivers are barriers
Announcement: Tales from the Tweed
Rivulet 4: We're now trying to change rivers back to how they were (as much as possible)
Rivulet 3: People have changed rivers
Rivulet 2: Bargees, barges and boatmen
Recordings (11)
The Journey (23)


text:
Armandisaurus explorator — це вимерлий вид ігуанід, які жили на території сучасного округу Санта-Фе, штат Нью-Мексико, у період раннього середнього міоцену. Викопний зразок — це добре збережений череп із нижньою щелепою та частинами семи шийних хребців, зібраний Дж. С. Бліком у 1940 році. Скам'янілі рештки свідчать про те, що A. explorator була тупою ігуаною середнього розміру, яка виросла приблизно до 61 см разом із хвостом.

Примітки

Фауна міоцену

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaWikipedia


5 Components to Having a Gospel Conversation!
What if I told you that God had an amazing adventure prepared for you? What if the adventure was way bigger than simply showing up at church next Sunday and serving in the nursery? What if it would require your total dependance on the Holy Spirit and would be the most rewarding and fruitful experience of your life? Would you be interested?


text:
Q: Howto dump loaded valid ssl cert's from running nginx, which was erased from disk by mistake? I knew about gdb.
I already dump memory of running nginx process.
I see all txt *.conf configs in that dump.
But! howto find, convert, etc... some of memory range from that dump to valid initial and erased ssl cert?
(Now I can not nither reload or restart my nginx - nginx -t WARN me, there is no ssl cert's)

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaStackExchange


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LinuxHPC.org sat down at SC05 with Bill DeSimone, who recently joined Absoft Corporation, which is headquartered in Rochester Hills, MI. Before Absoft, Bill has held Product Marketing and Management positions at Hewlett-Packard and Compaq. Has been involved with the HPC market for a number of years going back to the Floating Point Systems hay day. Absoft celebrated its 25th year in business in 2005 and has been at the forefront of the Compiler, debugger, and software development tools market during this 25 year period. Absoft is an IBM Premier Business Partner and is also a member of Hewlett-Packard's DSPP program and has direct relationships with its HPC Division. Absoft also has strong relationships with Intel, AMD and Apple.
Q. What are some of the key issues you see customers of HPC systems facing? How can Absoft help HPC customers?
A. When customers decide to invest in a High Performance Computing (HPC) system, they need to consider the software as well as hardware ecosystem. One critical aspect of the software ecosystem is inclusion of the tools necessary to allow HPC customers to efficiently reuse existing software applications written in Fortran or C/C++ for HPC applications or to write new ones. Absoft offers such tools in a very easy to install and support format. The Absoft High Performance Computing Software Development Kit (HPC SDK) is the premier software tool kit for building and running high performance computing applications on clusters. Absoft's HPC SDK includes powerful, pre-configured tools that help you immediately compile, debug, run, and optimize high performance computing applications.
Q. Absoft's reputation providing superior compilers and software development tools is well known. What is Absoft specifically doing to help customers configure an HPC system solution?
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Besides the SDK's, Absoft continues to improve and evolve its compiler and other Absoft tools. Absoft recently announced V10 of the Absoft Fortran95 compiler. This new Fortran 95 v10.0 compiler is optimized for Intel EM64T Xeon and AMD Opteron 32-bit and 64-bit systems running Linux. Independently conducted public benchmarks show Absoft's new v10.0 compilers produce executable code on both Intel and AMD based systems that runs as fast as or faster than all competing compilers ( for detailed performance comparisons see http://www.polyhedron.com ). The same benchmarks indicate that Absoft Fortran v10.0 produces code that runs more than 140% faster than v9.0, and up to 20% faster than other commercial compilers in some cases. Absoft's new v10.0 Fortran compilers provide the best combined performance on Intel EM64T and Opteron in the Fortran industry.
Q. When you say "key components", what do you mean by that?
A. Of course Fortran and C/C++ compilers are fundamental. But in addition to that, programmers need optimized math libraries, an MPI library for message passing and parallel computation, a powerful debugger, and performance analysis tools. For example, the Intel Linux Xeon-64 Basic SDK includes F95 Fortran compilers from Intel and Absoft, a C++ compiler from Intel, Intel Trace Collector, Intel Trace Analyzer, the industry leading Absoft Fx2 Debugging Solution, the LAM/MPI implementation, the Intel MPI Library, and the Intel Cluster Math Kernel Library. These tools are pre-configured for full compatibility and interoperability. Support for all the tool components is handled by Absoft. So customers need only make one call for support for any of the tools in the SDK - Absoft.
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Q.	What do customers think of Absoft's SDK's?
Q.	Why does the Intel SDK include more than one Fortran compiler?
A. Absoft compilers are included as a component of the standard SDK to provide source compatible compiler solution across multiple architectures and operating systems. As compatible as compilers are, there are often performance differences by application and extra feature differences which you may want to exploit. So having multiple best-of-breed compilers in the SDKs gives the customer a solution with more compatibility, portability, reliability, and performance across a wider-variety of applications.
Q. What other HPC SDK's for Linux does Absoft offer?
The Enhanced kits for IBM Power and Intel Xeon include additional advanced tools from IBM and Intel respectively.
Q.	Will Intel support Intel tools in SDKs which are run on Opteron, such as the HPC SDK Basic for AMD Opteron with Intel Tools?
A.	Yes. The Intel tools included are the Intel C/C++ and Fortran Compilers as well as Intel MPI. We are currently shipping two SDK's for Opteron based clusters and servers. One is the Intel-based SDK for Opteron; the other is the Pathscale-based SDK for Opteron.
Q.	What plans does Absoft have for the Windows HPC environment?
Additionally, Absoft may offer Windows-based HPC SDK's in 2006 as well.


text:
A further look into the den of the hardcore players
I the beginning of November I published a post where I briefly gave you an idea about the content of an interview with Kungen and Marilyn of Nihilum, published in a Swedish magazine. This interview was announced to be continued in the next issue and by a post commenter I was requested to report about that one as well. So here I am, once again, translating and referring, while adding a few thoughts of my own.
Bad timing
First of all I must feel a bit sorry for the magazine about the bad timing. The last issue hadn't been out in the shops for more than a few days before Nihilum announced the merge with SK Gaming and the birth of the new guild Ensidia. In this second interview this change is acknowledged, but it's apparent that the editor has thrown in a few lines about it in the last minute – the interview was probably made during the Nihilum era.
But that's not the end of the changes. One of the guys interviewed, Marilyn, isn't a member of Nihilum/Ensidia anymore. According to himself he was booted for starting a blog/website of his own, something that for some reason didn't work with the agreement within the guild.
You can read his side of the story on his own blog: Marilyn. Yes, Marilyn has joined the forces of WoW bloggers, and I've found the few entrances I've read quite interesting; he'll probably end up on my blogroll. (By the way the blog is in English, if anyone's wondering.)
Are they happy?
Now over to the article. What's in it that caught my attention this time? Well actually I didn't only feel admiration for those guys – which I still do – but I also felt something else - pity. There were things shining through in this article which made me wonder if they're always really happy about what they're doing. A few quotes indicated that there are times when they feel sort of caught. They've chosen a way to play the game which is extremely demanding and now there's no return. To be competitive raiding every night for many hours isn't enough. You have to raid all day too.
When Nihilum were fighting for the first kills in Black temple, all the top guilds started their raids at 5 or 6 pm, and when Nihilum pushed it and started at 2pm, others considered them insane. But in Sunwell SK Gaming started raids at 7 or 8 am and kept raiding until 5 am next morning.
- They raided 20 hours a day, which meant that they put a new standard of raiding times.
Nihilum couldn't get enough players being able to raid that much and they lost the first kills of M'uru and Kil'Jaeden. In WotLK this won't be a problem, Kungen says. If they need to start at 8 am, they will be able to do so. But it's not a development that he or Marilyn likes. It's just the way things are now.
- You don't feel well sitting in front of a computer, focusing hard over such a long time. I felt bad through the whole of Sunwell. It was a pain, Kungen says, suggesting that they should open the instances at a certain hour, so that all the top guilds could start at the same time.
- Then you would be able to see which guild was the best one in playing. Not only which had the players who played most time.
Kungen admits that he can feel the effects of getting older. If he sits in front of the computer fifteen hours a day he'll get a headache. A few years ago he wouldn't feel a thing.
They also seem a bit surprisingly uninterested in the game – or rather any other perspectives the game offers except for the fight for first raid kills. Everything else has lost its luster. "If we aren't raiding I'm not logged in for any more than a few minutes. I'll rather play DotA", as Kungen says.
Frustration at Eredar Twins
They talk a lot about the frustration they feel when players aren't performing the way they expect. The Eredar Twins fight is pointed out as extremely frustrating, when people failed at the same thing over and over again. "Every one has given all they had in four minutes, focusing, taking pots and giving pep talk to each other. And then the last guy seems to be asleep when he gets Conflag. Then you really get pissed off", Marilyn says.
At this point they had several other guilds close to them – every try counted and could be the one that made it. It took them seven to eight tries going down to 10 to 30 percent before they made it.
It was after Eredar Twins that Nihilum had some problems. They lost some players – or kicked them. Some players didn't turn up in raids and had to be replaced in last minute. The concept of unlocking bosses, which forced them to wait for weeks before proceeding, was one of the reasons that players lost interest and motivation. And in the end Nihilum lost the final first kills.
At the same time they seem to think that it's natural that this would happen sooner or later. After being on top for two and a half year you aren't as motivated as the ones that are coming from "below".
Easier for the casuals
There has been a lot of writing recently about how Ensidia is blaming Blizzard for making the game too easy. It shouldn't be possible to beat the new instances as quick as they have, according to their press release. In the interview, however, they give a more nuanced opinion about it.
- You can be critical, but at the same time you have to understand the motivation of Blizzard. They reach an audience that no other game has ever done before, in width and numbers. In the end everything is about money and if they get 20 million of players to play Wrath of the Lich King, well, then they have succeeded. And if there are two elite guilds sitting whining about "welfare epics" – big deal, says Marilyn.
And Kungen adds:
- You have to realize they haven't tried to make it easier for the top guilds, they have made it easier for the common players who play a few hours a day. They can have their epics now and – sooner or later – get access to the whole game. So I don't mind that development.
What he does mind though is that legendary gear drops are random. Before Nihilum got their first set of War Glaives they had killed Kil'Jaeden, while other guilds had up to five sets, which gave them an incredible boost. In order to kill M'uru they had to recruite new rogues with War Glaives. Then they could take him down easily after wiping for two weeks.
In stead of this randomness you cold do it other ways, Kungen says, mentioning Naxxramas, where you could make a legendary staff, putting 40 splinters together.
Naxxramas
Talking about Naxxramas, they think this is the best instance Blizzard has ever done, considering the wide range of bosses, the diversity in it.
- Just think about Heigan, Marily says enthusiastically. I don't get how they thought designing him, but it really was a success. The only thing you have to do is running around, surviving the crap coming up from the ground. I'm sure you can five-man that boss today, it was only about surviving the monster. But at that time everyone died at that boss. I think we had ten alive every time we killed him.
- Or take Loatheb where you only could heal once before you got a debuff making preventing it from doing it for a few minutes. Such unique events they haven't managed to make somewhere else. And then there were fights like Patchwork, with only tank and spank, which really is fun for a change.
They loose themselves into nostalgic memories from all the hours they spent on Four Horseman, which was "disgustingly difficult". But the worst thing was the timing. They released Naxxramas at the same time as the World Championship in football, and since the whole guild were football fans they were far behind everyone else from the beginning, cancelling a lot of raids. But finally they managed to catch up.
The new Naxxramas version isn't anything these guys care much about or focus on, it's something to "run through once", which they already have by now.
Grateful being Larísa
Well, that's the end of it. If you understand Swedish you could read the whole interview in World of Warcraft, issue 5/2008.
My thoughts? Most of all I feel sorry for them. I don't know what it is, but I find the tone in the interview a bit saddening - especially in the light of the later events, ending up in a guildless Marilyn.
I can't help feeling grateful for being Larísa of Adrenaline and NOT Kungen of Ensidia.
I'm casual enough to enjoy all the aspects of the game, from running around clueless in Winterspring to patting my latest and cutest non combat pet. And I'm serious enough to have the prospect of seeing most of the raiding content and get the challenges and boss kill kicks I need, although it will take me a bit longer than it did for Ensidia.
It really couldn't be any better. The den of the hardcore players isn't for me.
Your comments somehow reminded me of Monique's Confessions From a Former Hardcore Raider from Girls Don't Game in June. She is a former member of the top US guild Death and Taxes. The mention of raid start times just reminded me of that article.
Thanks for the translations.
Thanks for the update and for translating again!
I agree with you, after reading I am also sort of grateful that I am "just" a casual player able to enjoy all kind of different aspects of the game. :)
Gevlon said...
No wonder they burned out. They pushed world firsts ... for what? Just to be able to tell they are world firsts in a video game?
I have no doubt that I will clear the endgame just like them. Yesterday Sapphiron decided to give some shaman loot. I was sure it won't go down since people did not bother get frost res gear and got insane amount of frost damage. So what? The RL switched in another (FORTH) healer and he went down.
No doubt that he can also be two- or at least 3 manned. (tank+2 healers)
I will see and do everything in the game the Ensidia did (sometimes I wish I had at least struggle for it), without the rush, without the mandatory raiding, without all the problems.
Dragon's Den said...
They start at 8am and run a 15 hour raid?
These guys are nuts, sorry, but that's my view. Of course if it floats their boat, good luck to them.
But I find the interview incredibly sad. They've turned what is, after all nothing more than an online fun game, into a full time job.
Probably 90% of Wowers play as a relaxation from their jobs, uni and schools.
you can't help thinking that one day they're going to wake up and wonder what they've done with their lives.
Thanks for the insight Larisa, very interesting.
Captain The First said...
After all this time I still can't get myself to care about the ventures of nihilum / sk gaming / death and taxes etc.
After all, if you have enough time to burn what is there that you couldn't do?
But I'll stop rambling now, no one ever erected a statue in honor of a critic hehe.
LOL and there are guilds on my server who raid 7pm - 1am four five nights a week and call themselfs hardcore hahahaha.
Nice blog again.
More power to them. They found what they wanted in the game, and went for it.
Am not surprised about the burnout, tbh as a player I get bored when I am not raiding because the level of difficulty in a normal / heroic isn't there for me. I spent most of BT watching movies while tanking, last place I really paid attention was MH solo tanking it (afk warriors ftw). The game has an audience so wide it is hard to focus, but I think Blizzard are one of the few companies trying to make it work for everyone.
What really made my jaw drop was that Nihilum and SK Gaming merged; presumably so that they could have the hardcore of the hardcore.
The only trouble is, Blizzard lowered the standard of raiding rather than making it harder.
It is a bit like a triathlete who has devoted their life to being the best, only to discover that they are now having to compete in a school sports day, rather than an Olympics.
Where do they go from here?
@Loronar: well I don't think they're quite that bad affected by a burnout as Monique was. If you asked them I think those guys would deny it. But it really stroke me that they seemed a bit unhappy about the game in this interview, especially in comparsion to the pervious interview, where they were discussing vanilla WoW. Maybe they've reached wealth and fame to the price of playfulness? It has grown to something else than the game they loved from the beginning.
@Jarla: yes, I really AM grateful. I'm not just saying it because I'm envious and never can get there myself. I'm happy where I am.
@Gevlon: well I can understand people pushing extremely for world firsts - it's no difference to pushing to become the best chess player or dancer or mountain climber or whatever. We want to conquer it because... it's there. But the price seems to be a bit too high since they obviously don't enjoy it anymore if you judge from what they're saying in this interview.
@Dragon's Den: they have plenty of life left to live fortunately... They're speaking about themselves as too old, when they're in fact 23-24. Which according to me is pretty young. When I was in that age at least I didn't know much about life, really.
@Captain the First: I find the phenomena quite fascinating - the same way as the life of any other kind of star or celebrety is. I'm interested in things such as personal development and motivation and I think you can learn things from looking at what the ones that are at the top do - how they succeed and sometimes fail.
@Esdras: yeah, I guess we need another expression for the ones that are "hardcore hardcore". They're in another division than the "normal" top guilds on our servers.
@2ndNin: well we'll see what the coming big patches will offer, if it's possible to keep the interest of the most skilled players while still making the game more friendly to casuals. It's no easy task for Blizzard.
@Vlad: well you can wonder how the'll stay motivated after the merge. The competition between them must have been not only unhealthy but also stimulating and fun. But I guess there will come new harcore guilds from below, competing with them. The insance rush will go on... at least as long as there are sponsor real life money, which obviously has been one of the motives for the merge if you beleive what Marilyn and other former members now are writing on their blogs (with some pretty nasty accusations).
@vlad - I love the triathelete analogy.
People want all sorts of different things in this game - achievements, boss kills, loot, minipets, RP gear, a full friends list, etc.
These guys wanted world firsts, and they got them.
So now they just need to figure out if there's another way they can enjoy the game until there's a new world first to seek.
Draigg's right. These guys are nuts! And I thought I was hardcore (casual hardcore, but still)!
I play the game for relaxation. 15+ hour raids are not relaxing.
"If we aren't raiding I'm not logged in for any more than a few minutes. I'll rather play DotA", as Kungen says.
Exactly how I feel. I log on to do dailies and log off when not raiding =).
Maybe there is a game over screen for some of us.
I rushed to 80 to be there for the server first kills, not world first but its something. We got it and now after prolly farming the current content for a month or so I can see most of us taking a break till new instances comes out.
Flashbacks and resolutions
Tipping makes me uneasy
Time for preparation
The gift of imagination
Christmas thoughts
Open letter to an absent mage
Free your mind with re-customization
A love song to all commenters
The joy of being an ugly dwarf
Does game over exist?
Fashion for clothies doesn't make sense
I see gnomes everywhere!
Annoyed? It's your choice!
The soul of a guild
The humiliation of a noob jumper
My geeky WoW code
Time to dig for new jewels of WoW blogging
Farewell to privacy
Setting a course at 80
The beauty of a spell

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


After about three weeks of picking up leftover scraps that were clearly being eaten by birds and rodents , I returned to find the fruit finally missing . Nothing was left except for skins and stickers from the fruit . He was smart , he wasn't going to let an opportunity of free fruit go by . He was removing the stickers off the fruit before consumption . The banana's were being opened from the side , the mango seeds were clearly being sucked clean . I believe I was feeding a yowie but how could I prove this , I wanted to tell everyone but was aware of the ridicule that I would face .
I kept an audio recorder in the area which didnt seem to bother him and recorded him running , tapping rocks together and breaking branches . I also recorded my first two vocalisations which sounded like a chimpanzee .
I put my trail camera there and tried to trick him but nothing was working , he didnt like it and avoided the camera . I finally gave in and persued a true friendship , no recorders , no trail cameras , just what I'd hope was a mutual interest in each other . I got an immediate response .
I hopped out of the car the following weekend and was greeted with massive stomping noises on the ground . I froze , I experienced fear , excitement and adrenalin at the same time . A tingle went down my spine and the hair on my arms stood up . I just thought OMG ! he's communicating ! He was communicating alright but I had no idea what he was saying .
For me this was confirmation that I wasnt imagining things .
There was a lot of muddy patches on the trail into this area and I then wondered if he was leaving footprints . I checked the next time I went in there and sure enough , there were two footprints in the mud . Both were clearly not human .


text:
Rhawn Joseph, Ph.D
Sorcha Faal
Gratuitous Impiety
JFK, MLK, RFK
JFK Assassination Records – 2017
Sister Ciara
Thomas Troward
Rebuttal
[ January 19, 2020 ] Secret Service Removes Top Deep State Operative From White House While Leftists Threaten To Jail Anyone Voting For Trump	Sorcha Faal
[ January 18, 2020 ] Democrats Plot Horrifying "Hunger Games" Future For America And Its "Unruly" Citizens	Sorcha Faal
[ January 17, 2020 ] Opening Episode Of Season Four Of Trump Presidency Sees Bomb Fuse Lit On Dems And Leftist Media	Sorcha Faal
[ January 16, 2020 ] Virginia Governor Trying To Disarm His States Black Citizens Blindsided By Trump	Sorcha Faal
[ January 15, 2020 ] FBI Gets Head-Whacked By Barr As Dem Panic Grows Over Mysterious Sealed Criminal Indictments	Sorcha Faal
HomeAbraham LincolnLincoln's Yarns and Stories
Lincoln's Yarns and Stories
January 25, 2015 JAG Abraham Lincoln, Books, History, Independent Press
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iSpeech.org
The nomination was sent to the Senate and confirmed.
IDENTIFIED THE COLORED MAN.
Many applications reached Lincoln as he passed to and from the
White House and the War Department. One day as he crossed the
he was stopped by a negro, who told him a pitiful story. The
President wrote him out a check, which read. "Pay to colored man
with one leg five dollars."
OFFICE SEEKERS WORSE THAN WAR.
When the Republican party came into power, Washington swarmed
with office-seekers. They overran the White House and gave the
President great annoyance. The incongruity of a man in his
position, and with the very life of the country at stake, pausing
to appoint postmasters, struck Mr. Lincoln forcibly. "What is
the matter, Mr. Lincoln," said a friend one day, when he saw him
looking particularly grave and dispirited. "Has anything gone
wrong at the front?" "No," said the President, with a tired
smile. "It isn't the war; it's the postoffice at Brownsville,
Missouri."
HE "SET 'EM UP."
Immediately after Mr. Lincoln's nomination for President at the
Chicago Convention, a committee, of which Governor Morgan, of New
York, was chairman, visited him in Springfield, Ill., where he
was officially informed of his nomination.
After this ceremony had passed, Mr. Lincoln remarked to the
company that as a fit ending to an interview so important and
interesting as that which had just taken place, he supposed good
manners would require that he should treat the committee with
something to drink; and opening the door that led into the rear,
he called out, "Mary! Mary!" A girl responded to the call, to
whom Mr. Lincoln spoke a few words in an undertone, and, closing
the door, returned again and talked with his guests. In a few
minutes the maid entered, bearing a large waiter, containing
several glass tumblers, and a large pitcher, and placed them upon
the center-table. Mr. Lincoln arose, and, gravely addressing the
company, said: "Gentlemen, we must pledge our mutual health in
the most healthy beverage that God has given to man--it is the
only beverage I have ever used or allowed my family to use, and I
cannot conscientiously depart from it on the present occasion. It
is pure Adam's ale from the spring." And, taking the tumbler, he
touched it to his lips, and pledged them his highest respects in
a cup of cold water. Of course, all his guests admired his
consistency, and joined in his example.
WASN'T STANTON'S SAY.
A few days before the President's death, Secretary Stanton
tendered his resignation as Secretary of War. He accompanied the
act with a most heartfelt tribute to Mr. Lincoln's constant
friendship and faithful devotion to the country, saying, also,
that he, as Secretary, had accepted the position to hold it only
until the war should end, and that now he felt his work was done,
and his duty was to resign.
Mr. Lincoln was greatly moved by the Secretary's words, and,
tearing in pieces the paper containing the resignation, and
throwing his arms about the Secretary, he said:
"Stanton, you have been a good friend and a faithful public
servant, and it is not for you to say when you will no longer be
needed here."
Several friends of both parties were present on the occasion, and
there was not a dry eye that witnessed the scene.
"JEFFY" THREW UP THE SPONGE.
When the War was fairly on, many people were astonished to find
that "Old Abe" was a fighter from "way back." No one was the
victim of greater amazement than Jefferson Davis, President of
the Confederate States of America. Davis found out that "Abe" was
not only a hard hitter, but had staying qualities of a high
order. It was a fight to a "finish" with "Abe," no compromises
being accepted. Over the title, "North and South," the issue of
"Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper" of December 24th, 1864,
contained the cartoon, see reproduce on this page. Underneath the
picture were the lines:
"Now, Jeffy, when you think you have had enough of this, say so,
and I'll leave off." (See President's message.) In his message to
Congress, December 6th,
President Lincoln said: "No attempt at negotiation with the
insurgent leader could result in any good. He would accept of
nothing short of the severance of the Union."
Therefore, Father Abraham, getting "Jeffy's" head "in chancery,"
proceeded to change the appearance and size of the secessionist's
countenance, much to the grief and discomfort of the Southerner.
It was Lincoln's idea to re-establish the Union, and he carried
out his purpose to the very letter. But he didn't "leave off"
until "Jeffy" cried "enough."
DIDN'T KNOW GRANT'S PREFERENCE.
In October, 1864, President Lincoln, while he knew his
re-election to the White House was in no sense doubtful, knew
that if he lost New York and with it Pennsylvania on the home
vote, the moral effect of his triumph would be broken and his
power to prosecute the war and make peace would be greatly
impaired. Colonel A. K. McClure was with Lincoln a good deal of
the time previous to the November election, and tells this story:
"His usually sad face was deeply shadowed with sorrow when I told
him that I saw no reasonable prospect of carrying Pennsylvania on
the home vote, although we had about held our own in the
hand-to-hand conflict through which we were passing.
"'Well, what is to be done?' was Lincoln's inquiry, after the
whole situation had been presented to him. I answered that the
solution of the problem was a very simple and easy one--that
Grant was idle in front of Petersburg; that Sheridan had won all
possible victories in the Valley; and that if five thousand
Pennsylvania soldiers could be furloughed home from each army,
the election could be carried without doubt.
"Lincoln's face' brightened instantly at the suggestion, and I
saw that he was quite ready to execute it. I said to him: 'Of
course, you can trust want to make the suggestion to him to
furlough five thousand Pennsylvania troops for two weeks?'
"'To my surprise, Lincoln made no answer, and the bright face of
a few moments before was instantly shadowed again. I was much
disconcerted, as I supposed that Grant was the one man to whom
Lincoln could turn with absolute confidence as his friend. I then
said, with some earnestness: 'Surely, Mr. President, you can
trust Grant with a confidential suggestion to furlough
Pennsylvania troops?'
"Lincoln remained silent and evidently distressed at the
proposition I was pressing upon him. After a few moments, and
speaking with emphasis, I said: 'It can't be possible that Grant
is not your friend; he can't be such an ingrate?'
"Lincoln hesitated for some time, and then answered in these
words: 'Well, McClure, I have no reason to believe that Grant
prefers my election to that of McClellan.'
"I believe Lincoln was mistaken in his distrust of Grant."
JUSTICE vs. NUMBERS.
Lincoln was constantly bothered by members of delegations of
"goody-goodies," who knew all about running the War, but had no
inside information as to what was going on. Yet, they poured out
their advice in streams, until the President was heartily sick of
the whole business, and wished the War would find some way to
kill off these nuisances.
"How many men have the Confederates now in the field?" asked one
of these bores one day.
"About one million two hundred thousand," replied the President.
"Oh, my! Not so many as that, surely, Mr. Lincoln."
"They have fully twelve hundred thousand, no doubt of it. You
see, all of our generals when they get whipped say the enemy
outnumbers them from three or five to one, and I must believe
them. We have four hundred thousand men in the field, and three
times four make twelve,--don't you see it? It is as plain to be
seen as the nose on a man's face; and at the rate things are now
going, with the great amount of speculation and the small crop of
fighting, it will take a long time to overcome twelve hundred
thousand rebels in arms.
"If they can get subsistence they have everything else, except a
just cause. Yet it is said that 'thrice is he armed that hath his
quarrel just.' I am willing, however, to risk our advantage of
thrice in justice against their thrice in numbers."
NO FALSE PRIDE IN LINCOLN.
General McClellan had little or no conception of the greatness of
Abraham Lincoln. As time went on, he began to show plainly his
contempt of the President, frequently allowing him to wait in the
ante-room of his house while he transacted business with others.
This discourtesy was so open that McClellan's staff noticed it,
and newspaper correspondents commented on it. The President was
too keen not to see the situation, but he was strong enough to
ignore it. It was a battle he wanted from McClellan, not
deference.
"I will hold McClellan's horse, if he will only bring us
success," he said one day.
EXTRA MEMBER OF THE CABINET.
G. H. Giddings was selected as the bearer of a message from the
President to Governor Sam Houston, of Texas. A conflict had
arisen there between the Southern party and the Governor, Sam
Houston, and on March 18 the latter had been deposed. When Mr.
Lincoln heard of this, he decided to try to get a message to the
Governor, offering United States support if he would put himself
at the head of the Union party of the State.
Mr. Giddings thus told of his interview with the President:
"He said to me that the message was of such importance that,
before handing it to me, he would read it to me. Before beginning
to read he said, 'This is a confidential and secret message. No
one besides my Cabinet and myself knows anything about it, and we
are all sworn to secrecy. I am going to swear you in as one of my
Cabinet.'
"And then he said to me in a jocular way, 'Hold up your right
hand,' which I did.
"'Now,' said he, consider yourself a member of my Cabinet."'
HOW LINCOLN WAS ABUSED.
With the possible exception of President Washington, whose
political opponents did not hesitate to rob the vocabulary of
vulgarity and wickedness whenever they desired to vilify the
Chief Magistrate, Lincoln was the most and "best" abused man who
ever held office in the United States. During the first half of
his initial term there was no epithet which was not applied to
him.
One newspaper in New York habitually characterized him as "that
hideous baboon at the other end of the avenue," and declared that
"Barnum should buy and exhibit him as a zoological curiosity."
Although the President did not, to all appearances, exhibit
annoyance because of the various diatribes printed and spoken,
yet the fact is that his life was so cruelly embittered by these
and other expressions quite as virulent, that he often declared
to those most intimate with him, "I would rather be dead than, as
President, thus abused in the house of my friends."
HOW "FIGHTING JOE" WAS APPOINTED.
General "Joe" Hooker, the fourth commander of the noble but
unfortunate Army of the Potomac, was appointed to that position
by President Lincoln in January, 1863. General Scott, for some
reason, disliked Hooker and would not appoint him. Hooker, after
some months of discouraging waiting, decided to return to
California, and called to pay his respects to President Lincoln.
He was introduced as Captain Hooker, and to the surprise of the
President began the following speech:
"Mr. President, my friend makes a mistake. I am not Captain
Hooker, but was once Lieutenant-Colonel Hooker of the regular
army. I was lately a farmer in California, but since the
Rebellion broke out I have been trying to get into service, but I
find I am not wanted.
"I am about to return home; but before going, I was anxious to
pay my respects to you, and express my wishes for your personal
welfare and success in quelling this Rebellion. And I want to say
to you a word more.
"I was at Bull Run the other day, Mr. President, and it is no
vanity in me to say, I am a darned sight better general than you
had on the field."
This was said, not in the tone of a braggart, but of a man who
knew what he was talking about. Hooker did not return to
California, but in a few weeks Captain Hooker received from the
President a commission as Brigadier-General Hooker.
KEPT HIS COURAGE UP.
The President, like old King Saul, when his term was about to
expire, was in a quandary concerning a further lease of the
Presidential office. He consulted again the "prophetess" of
Georgetown, immortalized by his patronage.
She retired to an inner chamber, and, after raising and
consulting more than a dozen of distinguished spirits from Hades,
she returned to the reception-parlor, where the chief magistrate
awaited her, and declared that General Grant would capture
Richmond, and that "Honest Old Abe" would be next President.
She, however, as the report goes, told him to beware of Chase.
A FORTUNE-TELLER'S PREDICTION.
Lincoln had been born and reared among people who were believers
in premonitions and supernatural appearances all his life, and he
once declared to his friends that he was "from boyhood
superstitious."
He at one time said to Judge Arnold that "the near approach of
the important events of his life were indicated by a presentiment
or a strange dream, or in some other mysterious way it was
impressed upon him that something important was to occur." This
was earlier than 1850.
It is said that on his second visit to New Orleans, Lincoln and
his companion, John Hanks, visited an old fortune-teller--a
voodoo negress. Tradition says that "during the interview she
became very much excited, and after various predictions,
exclaimed: 'You will be President, and all the negroes will be
free.'"
That the old voodoo negress should have foretold that the visitor
would be President is not at all incredible. She doubtless told
this to many aspiring lads, but Lincoln, so it is avowed took the
prophecy seriously.
TOO MUCH POWDER.
So great was Lincoln's anxiety for the success of the Union arms
that he considered no labor on his part too arduous, and spent
much of his time in looking after even the small details.
Admiral Dahlgren was sent for one morning by the President, who
said "Well, captain, here's a letter about some new powder."
After reading the letter he showed the sample of powder, and
remarked that he had burned some of it, and did not believe it
was a good article--here was too much residuum.
"I will show you," he said; and getting a small piece of paper,
placed thereupon some of the powder, then went to the fire and
with the tongs picked up a coal, which he blew, clapped it on the
powder, and after the resulting explosion, added, "You see there
is too much left there."
SLEEP STANDING UP.
McClellan was a thorn in Lincoln's side--"always up in the air,"
as the President put it--and yet he hesitated to remove him. "The
Young Napoleon" was a good organizer, but no fighter. Lincoln
sent him everything necessary in the way of men, ammunition,
artillery and equipments, but he was forever unready.
Instead of making a forward movement at the time expected, he
would notify the President that he must have more men. These were
given him as rapidly as possible, and then would come a demand
for more horses, more this and that, usually winding up with a
demand for still "more men."
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Life of George Washington
The Great Conspiracy
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The FBI is facing the entire federal government in this case. It is why we are so quiet.
The problem is with the entire government. HRC is one component of that government. A Special Access Program (SAP) is an intelligence program classified above top-secret. They are held on closed servers at secret locations. The only way to get one is if you are specifically read on to a program, have a need to know, then you must physically go to a location and pass through several layers of security to even look at the program. A good example in non-classified terms would be the locations and operations of our intelligence operatives around the globe, or our missile silo locations. […]
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CNN's "respected" source: referring to Mexicans as "bastards" Cosman goes on to say that in Mexico rape is considered less serious than cow stealing and claims that most Mexicans specialize in "molesting girls under age 12, others age 5, others age 3." […]
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Fail: Washington Post Hoax On Trump's "Top Secret Time Travel Project"
The Washington Post bravely risks it all to reveal that by 2016, Donald Trump used his access to Gen. Michael Flynn to quietly direct DARPA, then in secret works with CERN in Switzerland, to commission the first time machine ever constructed. The result? An epic rap battle between Trump and Anne Frank.
uncle sam sayeth unto thee
Despite its failures, the truth is the press still can save us, and even the shadow elites admit it. In the meantime, don't count on it. Remember that there is no jailer more powerful than one who can imprison your mind, and that enslavement is the job of the news broadcaster dedicated to creating a fear-based reality and not reflecting life it as it really is.
Remember that citizen journalism works, and never rely on a single source.
Rare Candor from the Corporate Media
"There is no such thing… in America, as an independent press… If I allowed my honest opinions to appear in one issue of my paper, before twenty-four hours my occupation would be gone. The business of the journalists is to destroy the truth, to lie outright, to pervert, to vilify, to fawn at the feet of mammon, and to sell his country and his race for his daily bread. You know it and I know it, and what folly is this toasting an independent press? We are the tools and vassals of rich men behind the scenes… Our talents, our possibilities and our lives are all the property of other men. We are intellectual prostitutes." John Swinton,New York Times Chief Editor 1880
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text:
Guagua
We're sorry to say Guagua's performance has been canceled due to a bout of pneumonia in the band. We're terribly disappointed not to be able to bring this fantastic group to you but we hope to reschedule them later in the year. We apologize for the inconvenience and wish Geoff a speedy recovery.
Guagua is a Burlington based 'psychotropical jazz' band which performs Brazilian, Afro-Cuban and Latin jazz music. The 'psychotropical jazz' term comes from the euphoric effect of guitar, piano and horn melodies layered over their tropical African, Caribbean, and Brazilian polyrhythms. Their sound is uniquely exuberant and danceable. Seven Days says, "Each song is a treat, loaded with inventive melodies and rhythmic shifts".
Guagua's live shows go well beyond studio cuts, with an intercontinental dynamic range, a 30-plus original song repertoire and never-to-be-repeated arrangements and solos. If you're in the mood for Latin jazz that is original and joyous, Guagua is a band you'll want to hear again and again.
The band's lineup includes Geoff Kim on guitar & tres, Andrew Moroz on piano, Scott Dean on timbales, Keith Levenson on congas, John Thompson-Figueroa on bass, and Carla Kevorkian on percussion.
Guagua was born at the Radio Bean, a beloved musical incubator/coffee house in Burlington, Vermont. It was a cold Tuesday night in January '04 when composers Raph Groten and Geoff Kim invited what would become the core of Guagua to work out some of their original Cuban, Brazilian, and metaphysically-inspired compositions in front of the Radio Bean regulars. No charts, no set lists, not even a Real Book was to be seen that night. All they had to go on was their wide diversity of musical knowledge, some half-formed ideas and an ability to communicate with each other rhythmically and musically.
The fully-stoked sound of Guagua soon attracted attention outside of Radio Bean, and the band quickly grew tired of hearing "you guys should record some of this stuff"; and so their debut CD, pan frito, was released in August 2006. Pan frito was called the "local jazz album of the year" by Seven Days. They substantiated the label by saying, "What makes Guagua great is their sense of adventure. It'd be all too easy to serve up reheated bossa; instead, the band offers interesting new textures and melodic combinations, all while honoring tradition."
Guagua then followed with their critically-acclaimed CD Psychotropical. The new originals on this album have influences from around the hemisphere: the Cuban flavored tracks "Purple Oranges," "Newgalloo," "Son Nuevo", and "Bolero Cha"; the Brazilian-scented "Not Your Mama's Samba" and "FKB"; multicultural numbers like the Brazilian/Cuban flip flopper "Psychotropical"; the mixed-metric salsa number "En Siete"; the Druid-Santeria cocktail "Celtic Bembe"; the uncategorizable "KoreanFilm Society"; and even the band's vocal debut in "Afro Kimchi."
This event is a part of Vermont Arts 2017, celebrating arts in Vermont.
Tickets are $20 with a pre-concert dinner available for $25. Reservations are required for dinner and recommended for the show. Venue is BYOB. Call (802) 247-4295 or e-mail us for reservations or more information.


text:
Werner David Melchior (31. maj 1922 – 27. december 1987) var en dansk-israelsk politiker og journalist.

Baggrund
Han blev født i Tarnowitz, Polen (indtil 20. juni 1922 Tyskland) som ældste søn af overrabbiner Marcus Melchior og Meta Melchior. Han havde fem søskende, heriblandt Arne Melchior og tidl. overrabbiner Bent Melchior.

Liv og karriere
Werner David Melchior emigrerede til Israel i 1946.

I 1961 var han vidne ved Eichmann-processen.

Melchior var aktiv politiker i det israelske arbejderparti, hvor han havde poster som partiets parlamentariske sekretær og ansvarlig for information i den internationale afdeling. Sideløbende med dette var han korrespondent/reporter for Danmarks Radio og Radioavisen .

Bibliografi
 Israel hvorfor-Hvordan – 1967

Noter

Journalister fra Danmark
Politikere fra Israel
Ansatte i DR
Werner David
Jøder fra Danmark