Sir Gawain's Landscape

After about fifty years I'm finally achieving an ambition: I'm taking a group of people around the Gawain landscape in the Leek Moorlands and retelling the story. Any readers of my previous posts will know my passion/obsession with Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (hereafter known as SGGK), a fourteenth century alliterative poem. I came upon it after reading a guide book to the Peak District which mentioned the possibility that the hunt scenes may have been inspired by the topography to the north of the Roaches. On borrowing it from a bemused English teacher (I had already dropped English Literature as an exam subject), I was plunged into a world of chivalry, sexy posh frocks, armour, quests and challenges, seduction, and a hero young enough to be an elder brother. The biggest problem was the language. It was the Tolkien edited version and it looked like this:

In my youthful ignorance I had no idea that there were other available transliterations! So I plodded onward constantly referring to the glossary until I came to the word "bonk". Stop sniggering please.
I'd been born and bred in North Staffordshire and was used to the heavy dialect of the old folks. "You need to descend the hill." was delivered as: "Goo dinet' bonk!" Amidst much amusement from my family I took to reading it out aloud as best I could. It was much easier. I later found that Alan Garner found the same facility: he was raised in the next town.

The real joy came when I matched the descriptions to the landscape I knew so well from my walking and rock climbing. Not only did the general features such as those so vividly described in the above passage seem very real, but specific locations like Ludchurch, the Back Dane and the moors to the north of the Roaches were totally recognisable.

"They climbed by cliffs where the cold clung"

"Mist clothed the moor and melted on the mountains"

As the story unfolded I was as entranced by the descriptions of the minutiae of court life, dress and food as I was with the landscape. The fact that it was the hardest reading task I'd ever undertaken somehow made it mine. I became, and still am, evangelical about the craftsmanship of the poem as well as the messages within it about what it is to be human. So, what am I saying? Simply that in an age of instant texts, of a seemingly endless series of transliterations, to go back to the original (as near as we can get) version is a worthwhile enterprise. Perhaps, too, the work involved in fully appreciating a piece of work whether it's art, a building, music, sculpture or literature is a necessary part of its appreciation.

What has galled me over the last forty or so years is the reluctance of the locale to own SGGK. It's a bit like Stratford without Shakespeare. Yes, the author is anonymous and no-one will ever know for certain whether he lived around Leek, but the landscapes speak for themselves. And if you doubt me do a winter walk from Hen Cloud to Ludchurch, stopping for a well earned flask of coffee at Roach End where Gawain's guide leaves him to descend into the valley of the Back Dane to meet his fate. Then read the last quarter of the poem preferably in the original, Simon Armitage's retelling or in one of the many transliterations available on line.

New Beginnings, Revisited Convictions,

For the past seven years my much loved stepson has found school a difficult place to be. My wife Bel and I could never understand why as he had a wide vocabulary, good logical skills, a passion for reading and discussing, and a desire to learn. After Bel's autism diagnosis we wondered if Harvey's problems may be attributed to his being "on the spectrum" himself. So we duly got him a positive diagnosis of Aspergers, thinking that at least now his teachers would have some framework for their teaching.
This was about 18months ago and it made very little difference to how his primary school treated Harvey. Never mind, we thought, all will be different at secondary school. It wasn't. The persistent physical and verbal bullying continued, he was never enthused by lessons, and the hard pressed but well meaning staff generally never seemed to have enough time to spend with him to explain social expectations. After a few rather more serious incidents involving stolen spectacles, drawing pins planted in shoes in the changing room and a particularly nasty series of false allegations, we decided to remove Harvey from state education.
This was not a knee-jerk reaction; for the last two years I'd been semi retired from my teaching post and I knew I could make time if Harvey needed to be removed. We treated it as an ejection seat and told Harvey he could choose whether to pull the release or not. He pulled it ten days ago and has not been back to school since.

We've not been idle! Already he's made a series of autonomous and remote controlled LEGO robots, he's learned about rock types ready for our forthcoming trip to do the Snowdon Horseshoe and he's writing his own blog. Above all he seems to have lost all his anxiety symptoms and hasn't needed his usual "comfort blanket" of inane TV. He's genuinely excited in the robotics which he's never shown an interest in before and is already planning his rock collection. The weekend before he ejected, Harvey told me of the mask he feels he has to wear at school to fit in. He said he found it increasingly uncomfortable and wanted to be around people who accepted him as he was. This was at a Sacred Harp singing in Norwich we both belong to, a group of utter individuals if ever there was one! What I personally have found is that we've got the real authentic Harvey back; a young man who is articulate, quirky, an exhilaratingly fast learner, an independent thinker and a thoroughly nice chap. These were traits that school either squashed or his "friends" found irritating.



So armed with books by J.T. Gatto *and Ivan Illich**, both writers I'd come across before in my own journey of increasing dissatisfaction with how the English education system was evolving, we're deschooling Harvey and encouraging him to be himself. We're celebrating his many talents, enjoying his interests and embarking on a wonderful journey as a family. Keep reading!


*The primary goal of real education is not to deliver facts but to guide students to the truths that will allow them to take responsibility for their lives.


*It is time that we squarely face the fact that institutional schoolteaching is destructive to children.

**Everywhere not only education, but society as a whole needs deschooling.

The Machine Stops

When I was about 16 I had an English teacher who in many ways was responsible for my main interests. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight was one book he lent to me which has had a lasting impact.  The other book was a very slight volume he lent to me when he knew I loved science fiction. I read almost anything I could get from the library: Lem, Ballard, Herbert, and I positively devoured Arthur C Clarke. When he said it was written between the wars and was by an author more notable for his novels exploring the class system, I was less than enthusiastic but I tried it. It was called "The Machine Stops"

The world in 1927 cannot be imagined now, it was before the Wall Street crash and all its global ramifications and technology appeared to be the solution of so many problems both of the individual and society. It must have been a time of optimism; the horrors of the Great War were receding, the League of Nations was flourishing and travel was getting easier and quicker. Many writers created utopias out of these trends but "The Machine Stops" took a dystopian view.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kvrGUnIFuRs


Forster's future world was an underground hive of cells, interconnected electrically so that information, music, pictures and films could be shared. The human body had become flabby and weak from lack of exercise. The machine in the title was a sort of centralised computer which ran everyone's lives, it fed them, and gave them every bodily comfort. The surface of the world was believed to be too dangerous even to visit without safety equipment. With all the entertainment and information anyone could desire available on a screen, almost everyone in this world stayed in their cells. The book is only fifty odd pages and the very faithful 1960's film is less than an hour. Please read or watch it!


Draw your own comparisons with our world as it is now but please bear in mind that it was written nearly ninety years ago.

When I reread it a week or so ago I realised how good the book was and how I think it should be required reading for teachers, software developers and anyone who cares about being fully human. We're products of the world: we evolved intelligence as a means of survival. We made tools to change our world, and far wiser people* than me have raised the problems of over reliance on the newer tools full of silicon processors. As Forster so presciently showed, our children need to get out there and explore our wonderful world, not just sit at screens pretending to do so. We need to engage in reality to be fully healthy, and I don't mean just physical health. I grew up in a world where I was encouraged to explore and put myself at risk. As my mum said very recently: "You've always managed to do dangerous things safely". Risk is to be managed and enjoyed, not to be run away from.


*Stanley Kubrick and Arthur C Clarke for two.

Training, Eating, Pedalling, Drinking......

I've always had issues with my weight. From being called "Tank" aged 10, through consistently wobbling my way to next-to-the-last in weekly cross-country races as a young teen, to hobbling on my damaged joints if I weigh more than 98kg. In fact about the only times I've felt slender and good about my body are in times of high emotional instability: falling in or out of love usually. Occasionally, both at the same time.

I'm being narratively selective here of course: my late teens and early twenties were spent walking, cycling, running and climbing and I had a healthy, fit lifestyle too. I discovered rock climbing and realised that basic cardiovascular fitness and strength could enhance my performance, achievements and subsequent pleasure. I also discovered the value of good nutrition and became adept at choosing food and drink that could be carried easily in a small rucksack!

In a moment of hubris I attempted a climb a bit beyond me. I fell, my protection unzipped and I landed feet first on a boulder and broke all three bones in my ankle. So aged 23 I could not run, found walking painful, and could not climb to any decent standard. So I started scuba diving, not exactly high intensity work. Looking back, I don't think I did any significant cardiovascular exercise for about twenty years when I rediscovered cycling, but only as a commuter in London. I flirted with the YMCA gym but it was a one sided affair and we split up after a year.

Last year I took the decision to train for and complete a cycling century. I used a fabulous book: The Complete Book of Long Distance Cycling, to inform my carefully graded rides and to prepare food and drink. I had a eureka moment when I found some research by a Spanish doctor who found that beer was the perfect carbohydrate replenishing drink after a hard ride. 

The next comment is not bragging but a testament to the training and nutrition I got from the book. I found it easy. I averaged 14mph, took it easy and enjoyed every minute. In a bizarre way I felt a bit cheated. No anguish I pushed myself through, no burning pains I forced myself to endure, and no bonk ( the enervating result of poor nutrition ).

Where to from here then? I felt that the time needed for a double century would be too intrusive into family life and professional obligations. I'd just become aware of fixies  and built a very crude one for winter riding. The unexpected happened and I became fixated (!) on riding longer and longer distances. The outcome was obvious: a fixed gear century.

The training for last year largely consisted of working within carefully constrained pulse rates so as to increase endurance and efficiency without depleting energy stores. Cardio vascular work was an almost completely separate programme and developed heart and breathing efficiency together with muscle tone and strength. With a geared bike it's relatively easy to separate out these factors and concentrate on one aspect: if your heart rate goes beyond your zone just drop a gear and go slower or free wheel a bit! If you need to push your rate into the cramp zone then raise a gear and push hard. Not so easy on a single gear. I'm getting to know the topography of North Norfolk very well. All my training rides need to be planned around hills and flats so I can at least have a basic model of what I'll be improving. What I am finding is that I'm very quickly learning to relax in punishing situations. To get a reasonable downhill speed you need to get a cadence of 120 or 130. Something like this:

It takes a lot to convince your body that you can relax!

One of the upshots of last year's efforts was the realisation that I was basically, and despite various leg injuries, quite fit with the maximum HR of a 45 year old. I'm now proselytising about teenage fitness to my pupils and children!
I'm also revisiting some skills I learned when beginning to dive. It's amazing how far you can swim on one breath if you can completely relax.
So at the moment it's a case of trying to keep smooth, controlled and within heart rate zones, increase times and distances and maintain comfort.

What to eat and drink? Shops and magazines would have you spend fortunes on bars and gel and drinks and powders. After a bit of web research I found some recipes for energy drinks and tried a couple. I now swear by a combination of Lady Grey tea, lemon juice, brown sugar and cardamom pods with a pinch of salt. I drink this fairly concentrate for the first two or three hours, (every 15 mins!!) and then dilute it further with cold water for the rest of the ride.
Food was a bit more of a problem: I got heartily sick of sweet stuff and long distance cyclist Dave suggested marmite sandwiches. Have yet to try these but I think they'll supplement the homemade flapjacks really well. The Really Important Thing is to keep eating and drinking.

And finally, despite Lance Armstrong, it is a bit about the bike!

I stripped down my old custom built Bob Jackson frame, had it powder coated, bought some second hand track wheels from my lbs, made some leather bits and pieces and trawled the internet for various cheap but gorgeous bits, rode it a couple of weeks and realised I could drop a gear to make it that bit easier on the flats and downhill. I'll keep this updated as I approach the Suffolk Sunrise century on May13th.

Next year, the Goodwood 24hrs beckons...........

Arrowheads, Perfection and Compassion

I lately came across an article in New Scientist which linked early technological advances with "maverick" ways of thinking. Autisim was mentioned along with bipolar and schizophrenia: What a surprise!!

http://www.orange.networkofcare.org/mh/news/detail.cfm?articleID=36999

A very brief précis is that emerging technologies thrive on difference, and that there is a little prehistoric evidence for compassion and caring for those individuals who are different.

Two weeks later I was watching Alice Roberts' excellent series "The Incredible Human Journey", when she showed us an arrow head, or Clovis point from the Neolithic period, about 11,000 years ago. It was stunningly beautiful with an elegant symmetry and minutely scalloped edges. From a purely functional point of view it need not have been so perfect, and from a time / outcome ratio a "rougher" job would have been much more efficient.

A collection of authenticated Clovis Points circa 11,000 BC

As readers of these meanderings will know, my wife, currently waiting for an Aspergers diagnosis, is a keen seamstress and knitter.

 At this very moment she is weaving in all the ends of yarns into the rows of a beautiful woollen sweater she's knit for me. It's taken nearly a year mainly because of the demands of our delightful children and the housekeeping she undertakes so rigourously. Also she has, on numerous occasions, undone rows and rows because of slight errors in either tension or stitches. The yarn weaving is to prevent the different colours from separating. This almost certainly would not happen but the weaving means it could not. Perfect, see, just like the seams on her Tudor costume, the cleanliness of the kitchen floor and the organisation of the log piles for the stove.

In another part of my life I was a carpenter and turner. I loved turning sycamore so thin you could see light through it and these were very popular pieces. I often wondered what the customers did with these as the function of the bowl was actually impaired by the thinness. Craftsmanship seem to still matter, but some of the neolithic pieces are breathtaking in their beauty and finish.

A few of the tools seem to be ceremonial and are precisely perfect as an offering of craft, but some are totally functional and have been obviously used.

If it can be done, it can be done perfectly!

I'm not sure if Penny Spikins' theory could be considered as anything more concrete than wishful thinking. I do know, however, that people with AS have unique talents and can bring joy and delight to any group prepared to look beyond the "normal". Compassion is NOT pity! To me, it is an acceptance of difference and an enlarging of our concepts of what our group is to encompass those differences

My job (and my passion) at my school seems to be that of celebration. Everyone is included, listened to and enjoyed! I try to show my pupils that they are all valued. This has enormous benefits for the productivity of the group as very little time is spent managing behaviour and we can all just get on and learn in whatever style and mode suits us.

And please, can we miss the D out of ASD (unless it stands for delight!)

Uncomfortable Aesthetics

Three things you probably don't know and wouldn't guess about me:

• I love military aircraft, more particularly fighters.

General Dynamics F-16

Duxford air show is a particular delight and I generally go to a couple each year. I always take one or both of our children and occasionally one or two of their friends. This gives it a sort of educational aspect and earns huge parenting brownie  points. And this isn't even mentioning the envious and knowing smiles I get from the mums of other families, who I guess are sometimes there under sufferance!
The truth is that I'm following my dad's example who took me and my brother to motor cycle races and air shows. To this day I don't know whether my passion for bikes and planes is just because I loved our days out together with our fantastic dad .

• I love racing motor cycles, especially Italian and Japanese multi cylinder machines.

250cc 6 cylinder 1967 Honda

Similar reasons for liking bikes and planes I suppose: both very pared down engineering where speed, weight, ergonomics and aerodynamics determine the form.

In the twenties, a French Swiss architect, Le Corbusier, wrote an influential treatise about architecture illustrated with pictures of cars, ships, civil engineering projects and farm and industrial developments. His premiss was that houses should be "machines for living" and their form should follow their function and not be a series of boxes with bolted on historical references. This approach to design resulted in some fabulous (to my eyes) minimalist architecture that still looks modern after over 80 years. The International Style was a movement that produced the Bauhaus with all its astonishing output, and was fuelled by a philosophy and aesthetic similar to my beloved bikes and planes.

La Ville Savoye 1929

• I failed an Architecture degree course at Aston University (First year).

Perhaps I should have studied engineering!

Anyway, I was particularly looking forward to Sunday's display as the F-16 was flying. This is arguably one of the most ubiquitous planes ever made, flying in over 25 Air Forces from Norway to Thailand. I had followed its development since the early seventies and loved its sinuous, taut rather than voluptuous, shape. So there I stood ( chairs at air shows are for oldies! Besides, you can't use a camera properly from a chair) and at about 1 o'clock a blue grey shape came from the east and quickly defined itself as the Belgian Air Force F-16. 

I took rather a lot of pictures of the F-16!

 I'm used to Spitfires, Hunters, Sabres, and all the usual Duxford fair of easy, low stressed, manoeuvres with lovingly rebuilt and maintained machines and I just wasn't prepared for the sheer power and chutzpah of this plane. It didn't so much float on the air as rip it apart and I loved the power of  the engine which growled and thundered like a demented animal. I was entranced. I wasn't just entranced: I was genuinely awe struck and in tears. What astonishing power and beauty the human race is capable of! Not only to design and build such a thing of beauty but to train to subject yourself to over 6g to fly it.

Then the unease set in: The WW11 planes are a historical statement and a primary source ( eduspeak),
but the modern stuff,  especially hardware in service and fighting, seems a bit near to glorification of conflict. I have problems with guns too. I'm not a bad shot for a pacifist* and the feel of a wooden stock against your cheek and shoulder, the blue of the steel and the craftsmanship is a delight. We don't let our son buy guns with his pocket money but he makes them from lego or carves them from sticks. AAARRGGHHH! Well at least he's engaged in a real craft and not playing "Call of Duty"like many of his eight year old class mates claim to be! And I actively encourage his archery skills as well as improving my own.

So where does that leave me? I'll still take my children to the air shows because thats what good dads do. I'll still enjoy the sound and sight of military aircraft. I'll still shoot rifles when I can and I'll make and shoot longbows at Kentwell. And I'll accept the unease and share it, and I'll carry on teaching pacifism and conflict resolution and try to keep alive that vaguely hippie ideal of peace and love.



* Target shooting of course!

'Tis a Gift to be Simple.

I've just started serious cycling again. I suppose most of you reading this know I've done an event recently involving 100 miles cycle around Norfolk for charity. If not, then you know now! All sorts of bicycles passed me: mountain bikes with knobbly tyres whirred, state-of-the-art carbon fibre frames rumbled, aluminium racers whistled by, oh, and occasionally I passed other bikes. I had a great time, I completed the course with no discomfort, no pains, no blisters but a huge sense of achievement.

This was the first "big" cycling I'd done and I was really fired up all through my training month. I'd read all I could get hold of through the 'net and books, but the best advice was from an American book:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Complete-Book-Long-Distance-Cycling/dp/1579541992/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1316369417&sr=8-2

This more or less said the bike you're comfortable with and have ridden should be fine. It was. It advised against specialised, usually very expensive, in the way of wheels, tyres, gearing, pedals etc.
I liked this philosophy and so did my my wife and my bank manager. My own bike was a ten year old steel frame tourer which fits me perfectly and has seen me commuting in London, Birmingham and finally Norfolk. Its simplicity has always appealed to me.

Me and my Bob Jackson Tourer (camouflage to deter thieves!)

 But I've also recently come across groups of cyclists all over the world who were trying to simplify their cycling even more. Fixies are stripped down bikes with an aesthetic all of their own. Most people adapt their own or buy a cheap secondhand frame, but you can buy quite expensive ones ready made. These cycles effectively have one gear, one brake, a frame and two wheels. Do you remember your first ever bike? It was probably like this but with a free wheel so you could rest on the pedals.

I loved the idea of this but wasn't sure how I'd get on with riding one as it's pretty hilly around Norfolk despite what Noel Coward wrote. 

Don't you just love ebay? I found a cheap bike with a huge frame ( my inside leg is 35"!) which was fairly close and won the auction. It was sold by a lovely retired USAF officer and it was shipped over from the States in the eighties. It was extremely crudely made but very comfortable and almost identical in size and geometry to my beloved Bob Jackson.

I stripped off the gears, got my LBS (Local Bike Shop, a great American abbreviation) to fit a gear and locking ring to the rear wheel, heeded advice to keep both brakes and tried it out. A time of bleeding shins, strained thighs and lots of giggling ensued as I got to grips with pedals my legs had to revolve with. After about a week or so of commuting I got the hang of it. I got the hang of it so much that I could get up the hills I used to drop through all the gears for and manage to keep my legs revolving down really wooshy hills. And the giggling continued and still continues! I'm even considering cycling the 25 miles to Norwich on it next week.

It's now hanging in the garage having the paint job it deserves instead of the rather sober grey scheme it came with. As I paint it, I feel the sort of pleasure I felt with my first bike. The pleasure of a bit of machinery I can maintain myself, that was inexpensive, that was fun to ride and that was essentially an extension of me.

Finished!

Yes I did ride it from Norwich yesterday and had a wonderful time. I cramped up in the evening and feel quite achey today but I love the freedom and simplicity I have when riding it: 

YOU JUST PEDAL!

We live in an increasingly complicated world, how good it is to recapture some of the simplicity of a happy childhood! And also some of the silliness.