Well, the long-planned 1,000th Run Event arrived and went last weekend. The mismanagement turned up at Sayer's Croft in Ewhurst mid afternoon on Friday to set out the hall with registration table and goody bags; bar; raffle table; kit shop and disco, and deck the place festively. That done, we repaired to the Bull's Head for a meal (expensive but delicious) and came back to sample the bar.
The gang started to arrive from 10 am Saturday - typically, those from Herts and Milton Keynes were amongst the first, whilst those from down the road just made it in time for lunch.
It had rained hard since the early hours, and continued to tip down whilst the hapless Hares were setting the run, but by some miracle, as we gathered for the pre Run family photo, the sky cleared and the sun shone.

There were three versions of the trail; I enjoyed the 7k medium run, which took in some stunning views from Pitch Hill on the edge of the North Downs, from which heights we then had to descend via a greasy path through gorse and scrub arriving back at the hall just as a few spots of rain once again began to fall. Within minutes and unfortunately before the return of the 11k runners, it was bucketing down with rain and thundering and lightning. We stayed dry - they were drenched.

At the AGM which followed, I officially retired as Grand Mattress of OCH3 after 4 years at the helm and handed over, after a secret ballot, to Hugh "Desperate Dan" Jenkins, who immediately proved himself an excellent choice by presiding brilliantly over the next day's events.
Before that, we enjoyed another good meal, entertainment from a live band and a quiz, as well as the disco. I sought my bed soon after the midnight streakers' run returned from their short exhibitionist outing (Mark "Made Marion" Archer won my accolade) but I hear the die hards stayed up till after 4 am.
A cooked Sunday breakfast did nothing to prepare us for the Hangover Run - another 7k, but this time around the flat woodlands in the immediate surroundings of Sayers Croft, so no huge effort required. Again the rain held off just long enough. Roast Sunday lunch on our return damped the enthusiasm for the end of meeting Circle - everyone was wanting an afternoon nap by then - but all ended on a cheerful note and our members and visitors all said what a good time they'd had.

with thanks to Lissa for sending it!

It all goes back to the summer, when I took Mum & Dad to Smallhythe in Kent, Dame Ellen Terry's last home and a museum in her memory. It's a lovely tudor house, packed with memorabilia of a Victorian actress who was one of the most celebrated of her day but probably little known now.

Lissa mentioned that her mother had studied Ellen Terry extensively and when she came to stay, brought a stack of biographies of Ellen and the Terry dynasty, which included lots of nearly forgotten lesser Terrys, and her great nephew John Guilgud.
Contrary to Lissa's suggestion, I have worked my way through the whole stack and learned much about Ellen Terry's remarkable life.
Born into a family of itinerant actors, she went on the stage at the age of 8, playing Mamilius in "Winter's Tale" and never went to school at all. She first made a name for herself in light-hearted roles that showed off her great charm, but at the age of 16, she captivated G.F.Watts, the painter, who was older than her father.

He married her, and removed her from the stage and painted her numerous times, then repudiated her when she "compromised herself" with architect Edward Godwin. It's not certain if she began an affair with him whilst living with Watts; she was certainly devastated when he kicked her out, so perhaps it was just a friendship until that point - but she certainly had an affair later with Godwin, resulting in two children, which put her beyond the social pale.
Lewis Carol, a family friend, ceased to be so when she "fell"; it was not until she had cut her ties with Godwin, returned to the stage, divorced Watts and contracted a marriage of convenience with actor Charles Kelly, thus giving a "father" to her children, that Lewis Carol wrote asking if she would like him to resume their friendship. She said yes - I would have told him where to stick his friendship, especially as he went to the trouble of revealing her shady history to the mother of any young woman who expressed an interest in meeting Ellen.

Anyway, Ellen returned to the stage and began a collaboration with Sir Henry Irving which lasted for years. Between them they revived interest in Shakespeare, and modernised the theatre. Ellen instigated the wearing of more appropriate costume for the period of the play, rather modern dress, amongst other innovations. She also read into the role she was playing, and tried to make the character emotionally believable - a forerunner of "method" acting.

Altogether, she had a fascinating life. She married for a third time at the age of 60, to James Carew, a "toy boy" well her junior; the marriage didn't survive, but they remained friends.
She carried on an amorous correspondence with George Bernard Shaw, although they never met or tried to meet!
She outlived Henry Irving, and continued to act, but her Golden Era was over. She eventually retired to Smallhythe, where she died in 1928.
So there you are; I read:
The Memoirs of Ellen Terry by Ellen Terry
Ellen Terry by Roger Manvell
A Pride of Terrys by Marguerite Steen
An Autobiography by Kate Terry Guilgud

Discussing "Casino Royale" on our way out of the cinema today, I remarked I didn't find the resignation scene very true to life, whereupon Ed fell about laughing and asked did I find any of it true to life? He had a point! The action scenes stretched credibility to the limits, as did the idea of the demise of the Venitian Palazzo, but it was all great fun and in super cars.

Well, it was a James Bond, so OTT was to be expected, but I loved Daniel Craig's take on Bond - the hard man with a sense of humour presses my buttons, not to mention the toned bod.
I have to say I lost the plot half way through - but that is about average for me watching a Bond film, all that shoot 'em up isn't really my style.
Would I recommend it? If you love Bond films, definitely yes, it's up there with the best; if you don't love Bond films, wait for it to come on TV, then watch it for Daniel Craig!

Well, failed as a mother-out-law really. What I should have written in the quiz on "Whose birthday is next?" is "Today - my dear future daughter is 25!" But Happy Quarter of a Century anyway Kristin, I've got it written down now, so promise I'll remember next year...
Motherhood never gets easier, does it?

Who is in the house with you?
Ed and the cat.

Who was the last person to send you a text?
Sister-in-law, saying thanks for anniversary card.

Who are you thinking about now?
Child at school I need to write an IEP for.

Who did you last talk to on the phone?
Mother of child at school who got clonked on head today.

Who's birthday is next?
Niece Stacey.

Who was the last person you told you love them?
Dad, in a message via Mum.

Who do you wish you were with right now?
Rick & Kris.

Who's your favourite relative?
Ed.

What's the last thing you ate?
A russet apple.

What was the last thing you drank?
Nescafe Gold Blend, black no sugar.

What colour pants are you wearing?
White.

What is the closest item near you that is blue?
The mouse mat.

What is your favourite colour?
Yellow.

What is your favourite website?
Ancestry.com

What is your favourite shoe brand?
Clarks and Asics.

What do you wear more, jeans or shorts?
Jeans.

What is the last movie you watched?
In the cinema, The History Boys.

What song do you currently hear?
I don't listen to music.

Where is your phone?
In my handbag.

Where are your parents?
At home in Cleethorpes.

Where do you sleep?
Left side of the bed, with Ed.

Where do you shop the most?
Tesco.

Where did you get the shirt you're wearing?
Tesco, naturally.

Where did you last take a car ride to?
To work today, then home.

Where in the house are you?
Upstairs in the spare room/study, with the cat.

When did you start school?
1959 - surely a prenatal scholar?

When did you last burn a candle?
Last year, when we had a freak power cut.

When were you last at school?
5.45 today, when the caretaker kicked me out.

When did you last see your Dad?
Last month - in half term.

When did you last take a shower?
6.30 this morning.

Why do the people on the news repeat the same stuff over and over?
They don't.

Why are your best friends your best friends?
Because I don't see them very often???

Why are you taking this survey?
It's been a long day, I just thought I would.

It was my hairdresser, Galve, who first told me about Google Earth, which I downloaded at the time and as he predicted whiled away a good few hours revisiting places we have been to in the world, and looking at places we haven't.
The coverage is patchy - some places you can see the people in the street, others are very blurry. We particularly enjoyed finding the places we had lived in Cairo, Egypt, getting a big thrill from recognising the Shooting Club in Mohandeseen and so on.
I don't know why I suddenly decided to look again recently after not bothering for a few months, but they have re-photo'd lots of Britain. Our house is so clearly visible that you can see the gravel and shrubs in the front garden and recognise Ed's car parked on the corner.
The sad thing is that my car wasn't there - although it was obviously, from the light, photo'd early morning - but, just round the corner from school, in the place where I always park, there's my little red car.
Now, what tells you more about my need to get a life - the fact that I really enjoyed looking at a computer image of our house, when I live here and do know what it looks like; or that I'm at work when the photo was taken?

We listened to the Radio 4 commentary on the Remembrance Day service in London, on our way to the Hash run this morning. I was quite irritated by the way the commentator talked almost exclusively about the men lost in World War 1.
We know that the tragic loss of those thousands of young men led to Remembrance Day in the first place, but surely, as the centenary of that war approaches, for Remembrance Day to have any significance to people today, we also have to take into account all of those men, women and children who have given their lives to war, through no choice of their own, in wars since.
I wore my poppy for Remembrance, and after my little rant at the Hash to the effect of what I've just written (I'm our GM - I lead the circle and can say what I like!) I mentioned my distant relative Arthur Locking, who came back safely from military service in the second world war to find his wife Margaret and their two little girls Margaret and Patricia had died when a bomb hit their home in Watford.
We had our two minutes silence in memory of all who have died as a result of war.

We saw a TV documentary about the latest installation at Tate Britain - Carsten Holler's Slides. Holler - sorry I don't know how to put an umlaut over the o - has made several of these slide installations before, but never on such a scale as at the Tate, where there are 5 slides; two from the first floor, and one each from the 3rd 4th and 5th floors. They looked like fun - and also that they might be extremely popular, so we thought we'd take the opportunity to go on a Friday, rather than at the weekend.
Still very busy, the longest slide was pre-booked until 6pm - they were being very conservative over the time it takes to get people down, as it seemed to us to be not in constant use - so we booked in for the 3rd and 4th floor ones instead.
Good job we did the 3rd floor first, to get an idea of it as an experience, as it was quite scarey - much bumpier than I expected, and very fast; you get thrown round the bends and jolted up and down - Ed reckons it must be like going down the Cresta Run on a luge. As my spine is also quite bumpy, I emerged feeling slightly battered and shaken and slightly anxious about the next trip, which the TV reporter billed as "the real white knuckle ride of the 5."
So I borrowed Ed's fleece for extra padding and took my life in my hands again. The entrance is quite steep and you have to just trust it's safe as you throw yourself off the ledge and hurtle away. I enjoyed the 2nd run more, even though it was quite a wild few seconds and my tucked-in posture seemed to come adrift half way down; I arrived in a heap on the landing mat, thinking "Good Grief!" and needing a few seconds to gather my limbs back together before I could stand up. And yes, it was quite fun!
Would I do it again? Probably - especially to have a go at the 5th floor one - but I might put my duvet coat on next time, then maybe I'll come away without the scuffed vertebrae and elbow!
But is it art?

We went ancestor hunting in Leigh last weekend. We had my distant cousin David Parkinson over from California again - the Rytecraft man - and he wanted to see the railway that our shared ancestor John Bradley was helping to construct when he met local girl Mary Ann Bennet and married her.
Our visit exemplified just how kind and helpful people can be and made me feel proud to be English.
We started off wandering on the village green, where we knew the ancestors had lived in a cottage. We speculated on the ancestral home being one of a particular terrace, but I thought they looked too recent. Seeing the residents drinking coffee on their patio, I asked if they had any idea how old their cottage might be.
Not only did they tell us (it was too recent) but they showed interest in our quest, brought out a village history written by a local chap and told us where he lived to buy the book, and offered to lend us (total strangers, remember) their book if we wished. They talked about local families and where the oldest resident lived, who, they assured us, would also relish a visit.
Thanking these delightful folk profusely, we did call on the local historian, but he was not at home, so we moved on to the church.
There we found the verger, Mr Doggett, who not only fetched the churchyard plan we asked for, but also got out the parish records, both current and 19th century copies for us to look at. The priest in charge called in while we were looking at these, and made us pay for the privilege, whereupon Mr Doggett was overcome with mortification, and made sure we got value for money by giving us a guided tour of the church and showing us its treasures including a very nice silver chalice and the clock mechanism.
We decided the next step was lunch, so we called in at the pub Mr Doggett recommended, the "Bat and Ball". The food was excellent and the landlady very friendly. She got into conversation with us, and when David asked if she sold bottled Spitfire beer, as he wanted to take some home for his son, and she had to say she didn't, she told us where we would be able to get some, and then produced a pack of Spitfire beermats and two Spitfire pint glasses for him to take as a gift.
We had forgotten the way to the station from the Green, but yet another friendly resident in the form of a young girl on a bike, very politely gave clear directions, and we duly went to meditate on the family history altered by the building of the embankment that carried the train line so close to the village, enabling young John Bradley to seek lodgings locally. By this stage of the day, none of us were in the least surprised that he should fall for one of the local girls - obviously they were as charming then as they are today!