Merry Christmas!

"The days are coming," declares the Lord,

"when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch,

a King who will reign wisely

and do what is just and right in the land.

In his days Judah will be saved

and Israel will live in safety.

This is the name by which he will be called:

The Lord Our Righteous Saviour."

Jeremiah 23:5-6

Christmas Eve!

A Visit From St. Nicholas

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

The stockings were hung up by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter,

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.

 When a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer!  Now, Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet!  On, Cupid!  On Donner and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch!  To the top of the wall!

Now dash away!  Dash away!  Dash away all!

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes - how they twinkled!  His dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

Clement Clarke Moore

There’s no Christmas like a home Christmas

So sung Perry Como, and I think he's pretty spot on with those lyrics.

We’ve been hard at work since blogging Back to TQ12 in October, getting one thing after another sorted and slowly turning our house into our home.  The sparkies came in and made safe the electrics, fitted a new fuse box and took out that delightful burnt-out wire in the airing cupboard (hmmm, burnt wire, dry linen, I can spot a potential problem…)  The plumbers have been in, ripped out the bathroom and replaced it with a brand new suite, installed a proper shower, tiled and laid a new floor, whilst also putting in a brand new boiler and removing the old water tank from the loft.  The aerial chaps have put a new TV aerial up for us and laid a new cable to replace the one that was leaking water into the lounge.  The garage door folks dropped by and fitted a nice new up-and-over.  We've taken delivery of a tumble drier, a fridge-freezer, a dishwasher, a sofa bed, an armchair, a dining table, bookshelves, cabinets and a fish tank, whilst all the while painting, painting, painting!

There’s still a lot to do, of course, but our efforts have aligned perfectly with the Christmas break, and we’re both looking forward to celebrating in our new home.  The usual decorations have made their seasonal re-appearance, spearheaded by my colourful cast of nutcrackers (sorry Lizzie!)  I started collecting these a few years ago when I picked one up in York, and since then I’ve acquired soldiers, counts, toy-makers, jesters, pirates, and one particularly interesting guard who looks like he's come straight out of a fantastical arctic kingdom. 

In the dining room, meanwhile, Christmas has arrived in Legoland, with a winter wonderland street scene of carollers, ice skaters and market-goers.  It’s a Cockington-meets-Cologne sort of place, capturing the bustle of Christmas Eve and the good-natured community spirit of old, where the townspeople would enjoy a carousel, and gather to watch as the star was placed lovingly upon the town square tree.

Talking of trees, the main event is standing proud in the lounge.  We’ve bought our first ever tree, a six-footer, and hung up many of our old favourites – some pre-dating both of us, others from childhood, and a few that we’ve bought at Christmas markets since.  I love tree decorations as they really tell a story and have a strong power to evoke memories.  The ceramic star from Salzburg, a nativity scene from Grandma, the home-made choirboys from Mum – visions of Christmas past, when as kids we used to love hanging charms on every branch, and remember (almost fondly) the year the tree toppled over and flung soil onto carpet, sofa, curtains and all.

So, Christmas has arrived at Number 3, and it’s shaping up to be a very merry one indeed.  I’m really looking forward to a few days off after a manic period at work, to indulge a little in some good food and drink, catch up on some festive films, and start working my way through a mountain of books.  And in the company of good people, what more could you possibly want?

The Lego imagination

It has been a bit quiet on the blog front recently, the result of a house-move, too much to do, and not enough hours in the day to write it all up!  But in amongst the madness and the mayhem of getting the house ready in time for Christmas, we managed to put a day aside to get up to London’s ExCeL Centre, and step into a world of bricks, blocks and minifigures – Brick 2014, one of the great pilgrimages of the Lego fan.

This blog has already established the limitless possibilities of Lego, but it was interesting to read Justin Parkinson’s article on BBC News Magazine last week, entitled Has the imagination disappeared from Lego.  Too many big pieces, too many instructions, too advanced, too... Prescriptive?  Parkinson debates both sides of the coin, without really drawing his own conclusions or opinions (good writing, I think.)  So, has Lego lost its imagination?  Read on for my take…

Top of the visit list at Brick 2014, the Fan Zone, where exhibitors (admittedly mostly adults) have shown what imagination they still have, in creating everything from skyscrapers to mountain hideaways.  Some of their work is seriously impressive, but what always astounds me is the minute level of detail that these builders go to.  A bubbling Jacuzzi.  The cooking of a pirate on a Polynesian island.  A tiny penny-farthing propped up on a Victorian street scene.  Lego makes an impact in the macro, but what remains in your memory is always the micro, and for me, this is where the toy really comes into its own, where it always steals a lead on its market competitors.  Lego’s attention to detail is terrific, a quality that has clearly not gone unnoticed by its legions of followers.  Even as a child I poured over the catalogues, looking out for the witty little scenes (I even remember seeing one slightly naughty scene going on at the side of the railway station – clearly one for the mums and dads!)  In those days, you could sometimes collect a poster for your wall, and these provided hours of entertainment, where there was always something new to spot.

I suppose there are two reasons for my visit Brick 2014.  Firstly, I like the models, their scale, their sense of fun, but also their architectural brilliance.  But secondly, perhaps more pertinent, is the nostalgia.  I like to see what other people have done with the sets that I used to own, to reconnect with those “I used to have that” memories.  Early 80s children may well remember the Fabuland series, the Lego world inhabited by animals, and the associated story books.  Here at Brick 2014, laid out across several square metres, was Fabuland itself – every house, every car, and every creature, calling you back, ringing those bells of childhood and screaming “hey, remember me?”  Yes, I remember Fabuland – how could I forget the bulldog policeman, the florist lamb, the grocer rabbit, and their idyllic, simple little world?

Lego, I think, will always inspire children.  Through building their own worlds they will learn about the world – about history, science, society.  One builder had set about the painstaking task of recreating the Battle of Rorke’s Drift, from the Anglo-Zulu War, an event that even I had to look up when I got home, proving that the power of education isn’t just limited to children.  Give a child a toy, with a theme, and surely they’ll naturally pursue an interest.  Building Airfix kits got me interested in the Second World War.  My mum’s old jigsaw puzzle of English counties sparked an enthusiasm in British geography.  And I know that having Lego knights, forest men, monarchs and bandits was at least a contributing factor, setting me on the road to a love of history I’ve held since I was a boy.  Kids are not stupid – and if they’re anything like I was, they look for the context in things because it gives an even richer, more fascinating playtime.

I think it’s unimaginative to suggest that Lego is unimaginative.  For the roads that lead out of this plastic brick toy will take you anywhere if you allow it, and if you yourself have an imagination.  In fact, I’d go as far as to say that, in the age of 24-hour mobile technology, where computer games are on-tap and kids’ TV beams preconceived ideas straight into young minds, Lego’s need in childhood is greater than ever.  How else can you create a whole cityscape in your own bedroom?  Journey to an exotic island on a pirate ship?  Storm a castle with a catapult and steal away the king’s treasure?  Just accept that the carpet is a vast, endless ocean, believe that the bed is a huge, treacherous mountain, and you'll find it all there for the taking, there if you have the imagination to begin with, whether you follow the instructions to the letter, or create your very own off-the-wall creations.  Maybe the girl with the Lego castle will grow up to be an archaeologist.  Perhaps the boy with the pirate ship will one day join the Navy.  It may be that they’ll never touch Lego again; but it might just prove to be one of the biggest influences in their young lives.  Has the imagination disappeared from Lego?  Nah, I don't think that's possible.

Remembering

For Remembrance this year, I'm looking at a simple pleasure I derive in life, and how much I would miss such small things if they were so drastically and suddenly replaced.  A gardener - a tomato grower - has enlisted to fight the Great War in France.  Leaving his young tomato plants in the care of his mother, he looks forward to his return, when he will pick the ripe fruits, and marvel at the wondrousness of life.

The Gardener

“All over by Christmas”

That’s what the newspapers wrote

My adventure awoken

So I journeyed to France on a boat

Gazed out over the Channel

And scribbled my mother a note:

“How are my tomatoes?”

My tomatoes grow tall and grow strong,

In the warm Springtime sun.

We travelled to Cambrai

We dug into this dank, dirty trench

With mud on our faces

And no end to the damp deathly stench

Our hearts full of Blighty

But we learned the land like we were French;

My mind full of tomatoes,

My tomatoes bear little green fruits,

In the new summer sun.

Now the fighting was vicious

Like nothing we’d witnessed before

We lost so many faces

Guns, shells, mines; all the armour of war

People riddled with bullets

And a man’s mind can take nothing more;

But my lovely tomatoes,

My tomatoes are plump, and they blush!

In the late summer sun.

I’m remembered at Pozieres

Though no soldier my body could find

So they marched back to Calais

Leaving all of us Fallen behind

Now the poppies grow on me

Like they grow on the heart and the mind;

As for my tomatoes,

My tomatoes, they wither and die in the shy

Autumn sun.

Back to TQ12

Ten months have passed since this happy blog post about moving into our new flat.  Ten months of fun, ten months of frustration, and ten months of hard work that confirmed what we knew all along – that our wonderfully-located city-centre flat, with its faded Georgian opulence, was our temporary stop-gap to getting on the property ladder. 

Fast forward from that late November weekend, and Lizzie and I have just become homeowners.  For me, it’s a move back to the old home town of Newton Abbot, whilst for Lizzie it’s a foray one step deeper into the Westcountry, where the accents are slightly more pronounced, and the pace of life is just that little bit slower.  We’ve made a balanced decision, the cost (financially and mentally) of the daily commute weighted up against an otherwise higher quality of life that we think we’ll enjoy in our new home. 

Dodgy bedroom

Dodgy kitchen

So, what have we got?  An ageing bathroom (complete with defunct shower), a tired boiler and some questionable electrics, none of which is ideal, but all of which will soon be sorted as we take our first steps towards making this house our home.  And if you can look beyond the imperfections, there are certainly worse places to live – the lounge-diner is spacious, the bedrooms are a good size (and there’s three of them!), there’s a garage (although the door has just fallen off its hinges) and, of course, an exceptionally interesting garden.  A lick of paint here, a touch of work there (or was that a complete refurb here, some major rewiring there?) and we’re going to see this house completely turned around into a place we’re thoroughly going to enjoy.  For both of us, this is a really exciting prospect.

Dodgy lounge

Dodgy garden

So, from here on in all blogs will be coming directly from our new home.  I hope you’ll all stay tuned for room-by-room updates!

Our new home!

Blest Isle! With matchless beauty crown’d

Rule Britannia!

When Britain first, at Heaven’s command:

Arose from out the azure main; (arose from out the azure main,)

This was the charter, the charter of the land,

And guardian angels sang this strain:

Rule, Britannia!  Britannia rules the waves,

Britons never will be slaves.

The nations, not so blest as thee:

Must in their turns, to the tyrants fall; (must in their turns, to the tyrants fall,)

While thou shalt flourish, flourish great and free,

The dread and envy of them all.

Rule, Britannia!  Britannia rules the waves,

Britons never will be slaves.

Still more majestic shalt thou rise:

More dreadful, from each foreign stroke; (more dreadful from each foreign stroke,)

As the loud blast that, loud blast that tears the skies,

Serves but to root thy native oak.

Rule, Britannia!  Britannia rules the waves,

Britons never will be slaves.

Thee haughty tyrants ne’er shall tame:

All their attempts to bend thee down; (all their attempts to bend thee down,)

Will but arouse thy, arouse thy generous flame,

But work their woe, and thy renown.

Rule, Britannia!  Britannia rules the waves,

Britons never will be slaves.

To thee belongs the rural reign:

Thy cities shall with commerce shine; (thy cities shall with commerce shine,)

All thine shall be the, shall be the subject main,

And every shore it circles thine.

Rule, Britannia!  Britannia rules the waves,

Britons never will be slaves.

The Muses, still with freedom found:

Shall to thy happy coast repair; (shall to thy happy coast repair,)

Blest Isle! With matchless beauty crown’d,

And many hearts to guard the fair.

Rule, Britannia!  Britannia rules the waves,

Britons never will be slaves.

The goodness of people

Many months ago, I logged on to the Find a Grave website as part of family history research, to see if I could find the war grave of my Grandad’s cousin, Wilfred Roy Major, who was shot down in a bomber over Germany in the Second World War.  I knew from the excellent Commonwealth War Graves Commission that he was buried at Durnback War Cemetery, Bavaria, and so put the details in, and lodged a request – more in hope than expectation –that should any photographers be passing, they might see his grave and send on a picture.

I forgot all about this service until last week, when an email popped up in my inbox, to tell me that my request has been fulfilled – somebody called “BobP” had actually taken the time, whilst at the cemetery, to find Wilfred Roy’s grave, and to upload a photograph for me.  I don’t know BobP - I don’t know who he is or where he comes from - but his act of kindness in helping to locate this important family monument will not be forgotten.  It reminds me that, in the age of the selfish, there is still goodness in people and a desire to help for nothing more than the sake of helping.

Dakota Days - Memorable days (going home)

Day Thirty.  Tuesday 17 August 2004

"A day in which I think I worked fairly hard.  We finished digging our grid today.  The highlight was taking my dog skull to the lab to be cleaned and photograph.  It is cool, easily my best find.  After this, we more-or-less finished.

This evening we went out to Walmart - what an enormous store!  The most interesting aspect was the self-checkouts they had, so you can buy without a cashier.  Tristan did it, but did it wrong and had to get a cashier over to help him anyway.  I went to a cashier first and paid about ten times quicker than him!

Weird to think that tomorrow is our last day in Mitchell - time has gone so quickly."


Day Thirty One.  Wednesday 18 August 2004

"I suppose it would be considered a sad day today, our last day at the Archeodome.  It has been a pretty good month, the dome hasn't been bad really and people have been very welcoming there.  Today they gave each of us a grab bag to take home.  it included:

• a jam jar
• a bag of popcorn
• a fridge magnet
• postcards
• sweets
• a notebook with addresses.

Unfortunately, they spelt my name wrong, and I am now Nicolas but never mind, it was a lovely gesture.  We bought Debs some flowers and Alan gave Adrien an Exeter paperweight, plus we all signed a book for Alan.

So our last day.  Our last Holiday Inn meal.  Our last swim in the disgusting motel pool.  I'm nearly packed now and ready for travelling home, but tomorrow is going to be a long day - six hours to Minneapolis, nine hours to London, then four hours to home.  

Will I ever come back here?  I don't know.  I suppose I can see myself wandering through here in 30 years or something, probably by accident, or visiting the Corn Palace on a day excursion (does anybody visit South Dakota by accident?)  But who knows what the future will bring.  Three months ago, I didn't think I'd be in the States!"

An Afterword.  25 September 2004

"I suppose a note like this would be considered an 'afterword' if my diary was some sort of published work.  I sit on my bed, it's 2.22am, and I have just flicked through the diary for the millionth time in the last month.  Date wise, it's two months ago that we took the journey west into the Badlands and beyond.  In fact, minus the six hour time difference, it's pretty much to the minute that we were in the pool at the motel, celebrating Vicky's birthday.

This kind of thing is supposed to be a reflective thought on the America trip, but I'm not really sure what to say or where to start.  Since returning to England I have frequently wished I was back in the motel room, the Holiday Inn, the Black Hills.  Especially, and most frequently, I remember Hot Springs, a town you can really fall in love with.  Looking back, that area, so far west of Mitchell, felt like the end of the world where everything was so relaxed and peaceful.  All troubles were a lifetime away, it was something I've never really felt in a place before.

That excursion was the undoubted highlight of the trip.  The Badlands were so fantastic and the scale was extraordinary - I would certainly like to visit again.  It was the landscape under the blue sky and those beautiful clouds.  It was the heat.  It was the air - the smell and taste of it.  I know I'm privileged to have been there.  And this is not to discount the Black Hills, especially the scenery around Mount Rushmore, which will stay in my memory forever.

Of other highlights, I will never forget the sunset over Lake Mitchell, which words cannot do justice to.  I also often think of the Blue Grass music in Sioux Falls.  I remember thinking, at the time, that I would always remember that experience, and so it seems to be the case.

I can imagine going back, perhaps on my own, for a longer period of time to explore properly. But in the meantime, it's now less than a week until I move back to University, to my student life in Exeter, which I love.  But I shall never forget South Dakota and those memorable days out west."

Dakota Days - Foods of the World!

Day Twenty One.  Sunday 8 August 2004

"One of the best days of the trip.  Tris and I went to the Middle Border Museum today.  It was closed until the afternoon, so instead we wandered into town and looked around the antique mall.  There was a soft toy of Mr Peanut, who I remember seeing from my Bolton Wanders mascot meet.  At $28 he is too expensive, but I really liked him!

We returned to the museum after stopping off at a weird KFC, where Tris ended up having mashed potato and coleslaw with his chicken.  It turns out that KFC here doesn't seem to sell fries - I had potato wedges with my burger.  We both agreed that Dairy Queen was better... and cheaper.

The Middle Border Museum was very interesting, with the focus on Indian life in the area, the farmstead expansion, and prairie life.  There was a good exhibit on the Great Depression, whilst outside there were a few old buildings - A church, a school, and the biggest building of all, the Beckwith House, moved to the site from Downtown Mitchell, both beautiful and creepy.  There was also an old railroad station moved from Dimock.

In the evening we all went out to the Twin Dragon Chinese restaurant to celebrate Heather's birthday, which is tomorrow.  It was a really nice evening - Vicky managed to spill her drink and Tris got huffy with the chopsticks.  I had the 'Shanghai beef' and also tried some of Tris' duck, which was ok, but not my favourite meat.  Afterwards we got our fortune cookies.  My fortune read "Beautiful words are not always truthful; Truthful words are not always beautiful."  All in all, a really good day!"

Day Twenty Four.  Wednesday 11 August 2004

"The weather was cold this morning... a bit like my spirits.  I had a funny night last night.  Firstly, I woke up when my deodorant can fell off the cabinet by the bed.  Later, at about 5 o'clock I woke up again, turned off the aircon that we had left on, then went back to sleep.  Then Dan got up, which woke me up again.  Finally, our alarm clock went off at 6:45, and for some reason I seemed to leap upright out of bed.

Nothing notable happened at work today, but by the evening, my mood had vastly improved, and I laughed harder than I have laughed for years.  At the Holiday Inn, Adrien was giving us a slideshow.  He was continuing with the slideshow until our food arrived but, unbeknown to him, the waiters were waiting until he finished before delivering said food.  It meant we were actually waiting for over two hours for our dinner, and it was hilarious.  At one point (say about an hour and a half in) the doors opened and we felt a rush of relief from hunger, but all that was delivered were bottles of ketchup.  Anyway, the whole evening was farcically funny, and I really saw the Fawlty Towers in it.  The Holiday Inn's food is actually getting worse and worse, and I long for a nice roast dinner - mmmm, how lovely that would be!"

Dakota Days - Bikers and back ache

Day Eighteen.  Thursday 5 August 2004

"I am now stupidly bored of digging.  We get up early, go to the site, dig for hours, then come back to the motel.  My back seriously hurt today, it feels all knotty and tense, probably the result of bending over and scraping dirt for hours.

I got our trench's first significant find today - the end of a bone tool!  But much more interesting things are happening across the site, where human finger bones and teeth may have been found in Tris' trench.  Alan and Adrien are acting more-and-more suspicious, and Tris reckons there is a human burial underneath it all - he's sure they will be asked to stop digging soon.  It's all a bit hush-hush, and if it turns out there are human remains here, the whole site will need to be shut down until formalities are completed, including the dead person's tribal leader collecting the remains for a proper burial.

There are a lot of bikes in town recently, all passing through towards Sturgis, for the big Sturgis Bike Rally.  It's quite interesting seeing all the bikes and the bikers, and there was a bright pink one outside the motel this morning.  Lots of bikers seem to sleep at this motel, must be because it's so cheap.  I don't know when the Sturgis Rally begins, but the number of bikes suggests it's getting closer.  I tried to get some photos earlier, but kind of feel cheeky taking pictures of other people's bikes... And the bikers are so scary, wouldn't want to cross them!"

Day Twenty.  Saturday 7 August 2004

"A lie-in was blissful, and I went to work today feeling a lot more awake, fit and healthy!

But what a shite work day. Ok, it started off alright with doughnuts for breakfast, but it got worse and worse.  We stayed until 8pm because of the Harvest Moon Festival.  Rich people, who had donated money to the site, had a chance to look around and have wine, buy art and so on.  We were the other attraction - and it felt like being in a zoo, all these people looking down on us as we pretended to carefully dig when actually, most of us could think of somewhere else to stick our trowels.  I listened to the speeches going on above us.  Adrien, who didn't like the whole idea anyway, was the only person who mentioned us.

The only thing cheering me up was that Torquay had drawn their first match of the new season, away at Bristol City, 1-1.  It's a great result because we've only just gone up, and City are probably favourites to win it this year.

After a shower in the evening, I felt better, and headed out with Tris, Angie and Dan to the cinema.  We saw 'The Village', which was quite a good film, with a clever twist when you realise that the people aren't really living 100 years ago, but are actually in the modern age.  It's just that they're isolated in the woods, and only the elders know.  A day off tomorrow, so we're going to toe Middle Border Museum, if it's open..."

Dakota Days - Weathering the storm!

Day Fourteen.  Sunday 1 August 2004

"A day off today - the first lie-in since we reached America!  So I got up at 11 o'clock, it was so good to rest and catch up with some sleep.

Today was punishingly hot.  I spent the day in Mitchell town, escaping everyone else after lunch at the Dairy Queen to spend a couple of hours alone.  I went to the Corn Palace gift shop and bought some things, then went into the Corn Palace itself.  The interior is decorated with corn, just like the outside, and there's a definite aroma of popcorn.  Half of the space has stadium seats, and I think the local university uses it as a venue for basketball.  There was another Corn Palace shop in there too, so I bought some postcards.

After that, I went for a wander.  I found an interesting church and the cinema (not much worth watching though)...  I had a map of the town with me, although it's hard to get too lost on a grid-street system, so I wandered a different way back to the motel.  At one point, the road went under a railway.  A train with three engines was resting on the rail - it was great, really long!  On the way back to the motel, the sun was so hot and I probably sweated more than ever before (I passed some crazy guy going the other way who was out for a run!)  Anyway, it was great to finally get out in a strange town with just myself and a map!"

Day Sixteen.  Tuesday 3 August 2004

"We had a big storm whilst working today.  It was scary but also amazing.  I wrote about it onsite:

10.05am - in the Archeodome

The severe thunderstorm hit.  It was eerie.

The sirens sounded when Angie, Lins and I were outside sieving.  They were terrifying by nature.  At first I thought it was a car starting up.  Then a second siren sounded - people here have likened it to a nuclear holocaust siren like in the movies.  We rushed in with the wheelbarrows.  It was about two minutes after the sirens that the storm him.  People didn't know what to do, and fascination drew people to the windows.  As the storm approached during these two minutes, I got two photos of the sky.  

In the lab now.  Angie, Tris, Heather, Dan, Lins, Vicky, Alan and me.  The storm is slightly easing, but the thunder claps are getting louder.  And the rain still lashes down, but it's absorbing to watch!"

Dakota Days - Sunset on Lake Mitchell and Bluegrass in Sioux Falls

Day Ten.  Wednesday 28 July 2004

"Bruce's last day with us today.  He had five copies of his book to sell.  Although I didn't get one on the day, I have one on order - he is signing them all too.  Bruce is off tomorrow to a remote part of Canada to relax and go fishing, presumably with his wife.

We all went to a house on Lake Mitchell this evening for dinner.  I don't know whose house it was, or if the owners were even there, but it seems the done thing over here for people to just invite you over for things.  In my experience so far, the Dakotans are a pretty friendly group of people... Unless you're an animal activist... Or an atheist...  Anyway, I took some photos of the most beautiful sunset over the lake, and Bruce cooked loads of steak which was pretty tasty.  Some people even went swimming in the lake, although they all came out green after a few minutes.  I stayed on the side with Tris and Angie, who commandeered a two-seater and were generally looking really British in the sunset."

Day Eleven.  Thursday 29 July 2004

"An excursion to Sioux Falls was made today!  Breakfast was bought on the road - Bruce told us not to tell out parents that it was "cookies, chips and soda," haha!  

This morning we were at the US Geographical Service, EROS which, for some reason, a few people in the minibus thought was going to be a strip club.  EROS was interesting, although daunting as we needed to present our passports in order to enter the site.... Although why anyone suspicious would want to target a mapping centre, I don't know...

I spent a bit of money this afternoon in a mall in the city.  I bought some jeans (kind of black, very nice), the diary of Lewis and Clark, and a piece of pottery for Mum.  The mall was huge, loads of shops that was something of a treat after quiet little Mitchell.  The girls working in one of the bookshops had seen our dig on the TV too, so they seemed pretty interested in what we had to say... until, whilst still chatting, I walked backwards into one of their book displays and knocked a few things flying - well done me!

In the evening, we went to a barbecue in someone else's house who we didn't know.  We had live music supplied by a Bluegrass group, who were pretty good.  Funny moment of the evening goes to the smelly old basset hound that was wondering around the garden - cute, but it absolutely stunk!  Had a happy attack on the drive back to Mitchell this evening - it really has been a good couple of days!"