Good evening SRs,
Prelude to American holiday write-up
Iāve almost recovered from jet lag and forgotten just how unpleasant it can be. Morning flights are definitely preferable as they reduce the risk. Still, the night flight was only a small price to pay for the time away and the happy memories and experiences I hope to be able to look back on in the future.
I didnāt really use the laptop much whilst away except to upload the photos from the trip and to keep my e-diary up to date with the basic details of each day such as how we spent the time; what the weather was like; the people we met; and what we ate for lunch etc. I tended instead to spend most of the spare evening time reading as holidays are when I catch up with the books I collect during the year on my personal reading pile. I read three books on the trip. These were firstly A Kestrel for a Knave by Barry Hines, which I imagine every SR has read at some point, and as I did years ago as a class reader in English. It is a vivid book and just as I remembered it, about the last few months of a teenage boyās time in secondary school in a deprived area of the North of England before being almost certainly destined to follow the same life course as the rest of his family and the working class men of the area as a pit worker. The early starts on cold winter mornings, inadequate clothing, impoverished breakfasts, dysfunctional family background and lack of any real career prospects that the central character Billy Casper faced still filled me with the same strong sense of foreboding as when I was teenager myself. In fact, on reflection, it was probably a clever idea of my English teacher to cover this novel because the almost certain bleakness of adult life for Billy and his peers served to act as a motivator for me to want to do as well as I could at school; and to avoid at all costs a life spent under ground. Billy was only a few years older than us and I think my class saw what they thought was in store if they didnāt apply themselves at school even though in reality there was no chance of going down any mines as there were none in Surrey. I enjoyed re-reading the book again, as part of a summer reading programme at work: we were all invited to read an educationally themed book then write up a book review for colleagues.
The second book I read was a quirky little compilation of verse and line illustrations called The melancholy death of Oyster Boy: and other stories, by the film maker Tim Burton - which were essentially mini cautionary tales. The final book and my favourite was Her fearful symmetry by Audrey Niffeneger which was absolutely gripping. It is strong on plot, description, content and dialogue. Her fearful symmetry is Niffenegerās second novel published some seven years after the Time travelerās wife, which I havenāt read yet but promptly bought straight after completing her latest one. By coincidence Her fearful symmetry is half set in a suburb of Chicago called Lake Forest which I happened to be reading about as a potential place to visit when I was doing my preparatory holiday planning reading, whilst Niffeneger herself lives in another Chicago suburb called the City of Evanston which is actually where we stayed on the first four nights of the holiday. Evanston is a quiet leafy university town with small shops, water fountains in the town square and avenues of trees which are home to thousands of cicadas which sing at night, so loudly at times that they drown out what traffic there is on the road. Towards the opening of the book Niffeneger writes about a set of twins (who are the main characters) leaving Lake Forest and travelling by plane from Chicago to London ready to start their new lives in Highgate as part of their inheritance of their auntās estate. To go along with my other phobias such as dogs, the dark at night, and heights I have an annoying fear of flying, which I have just about managed to overcome so far or I would never by able to go abroad except by boat or train. Reading about the two girls Julia and Valentina Pooleās trouble-free flight over the Atlantic at the same time as my own flight in the opposite direction helped to calm my nerves and was certainly serendipitous. Highgate cemetery plays a central role in the plot and there is fascinating detail about the running of the cemetery, which Niffeneger came over to England to research even becoming a trained tour guide to help immerse herself in the story. The themes of the book are essentially relationships, possession beyond the grave, the afterlife and life in a London neighbourhood - all things Iām interested in.
There were many highlights from the holiday and some of them will be certain to lodge in the mind forever, the vivid ones that I made a conscious decision at the time to remember. Boarding the California Zephyr was one of these. I was struck by the sheer size of the train built on two levels, rather like some continental trains I have been on and covered in gleeming steel for design and strength so that it could withstand the 2,400 mile journey through challenging terrain including the Nevada desert. As soon as we boarded the Zephyr in the early afternoon in Chicago we went straight to the observation car that is positioned next to the dining car in the centre of the train where there are floor to ceiling windows and the most comfortable seating in the train. Apparently at one time the observation cars were open to the elements but these days they are enclosed which is a good thing because of the extreme temperatures and weather conditions: at one point our train was delayed by five hours due to electrical storms in Iowa which brought a huge tree down on the line and which required a team of tree surgeons to be brought in on another train to chop it up and remove it from the line. The conductor tried to present the delay as a positive as it meant passengers would go through Nebraska in the daylight rather than at night when the Zephyr normally passes through the state. To us Nebraska did not really offer any special sights of interest - only cornfields, grain silos and the odd small town otherwise in the middle of nowhere. Still I suppose there was novelty value for the few non US passengers who had never seen the Midwest plains before; and we won a competition for being the most distant visitors from the US narrowly beating the only other UK couple who lived in Derby. Our prize was a book about the Zephyr route from Grand Junction to Salt Lake City written by one of the rangers. Rangers board the train for certain stretches of the journey which are of most interest such as the American Rockies and provide a commentary on the route. The part of the commentary which most people seemed most interested in was the Donner Lake and going over the Donner Pass - which was where the Donner-Reed party settlers were snowed in for one winter in the late 19th C and some ended up resorting to cannibalism to stay alive (though the ranger did not mention this last part) - which is mentioned at the beginning of The Shining as Jack Nicholson and Shellay Duval drive to the Overlook hotel at the start of the film.
Other personal highlights for me were sitting on Baker Beach in San Francisco which looks across to the Golden Gate Bridge and seeing American Gothic in real life in the Art Institute of Chicago. Grant Woodās naive painting is one I took to early on in life when looking through my fatherās books on art. AIC is certainly a great gallery in terms of the number of iconic paintings in its impressionism and modern art collection and is now my favourite alongside the Pompidou in Paris. Meeting Mary a fb friend was something else I enjoyed and discovering what wonderful creatures ferrets are - they are so compliant, far more placid than cats, as Mary keeps three of these creatures as pets. I met Mary online when I was going through chemo and she was recovering from menigitis so there is a similar connection as with the SRs.
There were lows too such as the swollen ankles which have gone down now and reading that Cat has a secondary diagnosis.
⦠having written the above Iāve now forgotten all the posts. Too tired to read back - but thinking of you all.
Victoria xx