I had asked my son, who has always been a keen photographer, to consult his digital collection of photographs to see if any of the pre-digital era family photographs had been scanned and had found its way into his collection. He did unearth four, two of which were seaside snaps and can be dated and were probably taken on a beach in the Gower peninsular, South Wales when we visited Meg’s cousin for a family holiday. But I was interested in one of Meg and myself atop a mountain and the question arises whether we could apply our collective memories to ascertain which mountain it was and a possible date. Putting our heads together, we have concluded that it could be Snowdon, Wales’s highest mountain and was evidently taken in mid-summer. I think we can discern in the background Lyn Glaslyn, the most prominent, high-altitude lake (Blue Lake) situated directly below the summit and apparently, according to the internet, now a favourite for wild water swimming. This particular lake sticks in my memory because my son and actually swum in it. The full story is that we ran into a couple of young German girls with whom we ascended Snowdon in one direction and we decided to stick together as walking companions on another route down the mountain. On the day in question, it was an incredibly hot day and when the German girls espied the lake they exclaimed that it would be a good idea if we all went for a swim (which was probably incredibly dangerous given how cold the water was) We explained that we did have our swimming trunks with us but the young German girls exclaimed that we should not bother with that and promptly completely stripped off and ran into the lake. My son and I felt obliged to follow their example but I know that Meg declined the offer and we certainly did not stay too long in the water as it seemed freezing cold. But to return to the family photograph, we think we can date it to the late 1970’s because of our hair styles and I have a bandage on my left knee. I had been involved in a bizarre accident on the Leicester Polytechnic campus in 1973 when a runaway car, whose driver had fainted, ran me over smashing up both of my knees and taking two of my students on its bonnet through some iron railings. Although I made a pretty full recovery, my left knee occasionally caused me some discomfort as it still does to this day so the bandaged left knee helps to date the photograph. But now I am not so sure as I search the internet for images of the cairns which are the trig points for both Hellvelln and Snowdon and our photograph matches neither. Although we have a lot of photographs still to be unearthed in our final assault on a ‘hobbit hole’, the vast majority of these are likely to show Meg and myself plus son in deep snow and dressed in cagoules and anoraks taken at Easter time which is the time of the year when we typically used to take a holiday in the Lakes. Easter was our preferred time because it was always so crowded during the summer months but it will be interesting to see what we manage to discover. Once this is done we will scan them in using our scanner which has always done a good job in the past and I will ensure that I always crop then to the same dimensions so that they can easily be displayed in the software (HTML code) that I was using very recently.
I decided yesterday morning, almost on the spur of the moment, although the thought has been in my head for some time, to attend the service at my local church for 8.30 on Sunday morning service rather than the service at 6.00pm on Saturday evenings. This turned out to be quite an inspired decision because I knew several of the congregation by sight and, as a bonus, at the end of the service they had opened the parish hall where those who wished to could assemble for a chat over a cup of coffee. I got into conversation with a man who was not only a keen walker but also very knowledgeable about American politics so we shared views with each other about the American body politic. I also got into a conversation with a young mother who was occupying the pew in front of me nursing her very well behaved seven month old baby so we thought we would probably carry on chatting next week. So I have decided to undertake a switch from the Saturday evening to the Sunday morning service if only on a Saturday driving to the church in the driving rain and then shooting in and out of the church in the dark means that here is no time to socialise. So given that my reasons for attending church are as much social as they are theological, I think that a switch of times will prove to be very beneficial for me. After I had returned home, my son called around as he indicated that he would and we discussed things like family finances with each other which was very useful. For the rest of the day whilst we have the Winter Olympics to occupy us, I actually prefer something a little more mind engaging. Yesterday evening there was a film about the life of Emily Brontē of which I only have scantiest knowledge so I suspect that this is one of the transmissions where I can be wrapped up in a warm bed and view it on the bedroom TV.
The political news that emerged during the day was the resignation of Morgan McSweeney, Keir Starmer’s chief of staff. Tt is true that many of the Labour Party backbenchers had been calling for his head and McSweeney himself takes full responsibility for advising the choice of Peter Mandelson as US ambassador. That having been said, the mood the House of Commons as a whole was that there needed to be scapegoat and it is probable that McSweeny went before he was actually pushed as even Keir Starmer appreciated . And whilst constitutional niceties still remain, it is the Prime Minister’s responsibility to take what advice is offered but then not only to act decisively but to take responsibility for decisions, even they turn out to be wrong, or at least misplaced. No doubt this resignation will be discussed deep into the night but it may be a case of ‘too little, too late’ to save the fate of Prime Minister.