Nightjars on Chobham Common

17^th June.  It must be fifteen years since I last led a Rotary expedition  to Chobham Common to search for nightjars, one of the UK’s rarest and most elusive birds. On that occasion, we heard nightjars but didn’t see any, but the trip was also memorable as I managed to lose half the Rotary Club of Shepperton Aurora on the way back to the car park in darkness. I remember at the time wishing fervently that I had carried out a Risk Assessment before embarking on the walk!  Thank goodness, they all eventually found their way back, in fact Peter and Audrey claimed to have actually seen a nightjar whilst lost on the Common.

Chobham Common

This year, I thought it was time we repeated the adventure, but decided to restrict numbers to 20 people, so that I could more easily count them out, and count them back again. Obviously I wanted to avoid any repetition of the last time. As part of my Risk Asssessment, therefore,  I ensured that all members were aware of potential hazards, such as getting lost in the dark, tripping over obstacles, being eaten alive by biting insects and suffering hypothermia when the night-time temperature drops.

Chobham Common at dusk

Surprisingly, there wasn’t a rush of applications to join my expedition.  It was a more select group than last time, in fact there were just three of us, myself, the IPDG and Daisy, who arrived at the Monument Car Park at around 9.30 p.m. on a cool evening just before midsummer. The car park gets its name from a monument erected there to commemorate Queen Victoria’s review of British troops on Chobham Common prior to the Crimean War.

Arriving in Spring, nightjars are ground-nesting birds, which leaves them vulnerable to predators such as foxes and weasels, and easily disturbed by foraging dogs. They can only thrive, therefore in areas where they are offered some form of protection.  Their preferred habitat is heathland, which makes  Chobham Common a suitable place to look for them. Midsummer  is the time of year that offers the best opportunity to find nightjars. They are nocturnal birds, and spend the day lying motionless on the ground, their colouring giving them the appearance of dead branches, which renders them almost invisible.

Nightjar (picture from web)

As dusk starts to descend, the nightjars become more active, seeking their food supply of moths and other insects, and delivering their extraordinary churring song, which sounds like an engine being revved. As we headed up the track from  the car park, we were listening intently for this churring. We saw and heard lots of other birds, including song thrushes and blackbirds, and even had two sightings of a woodcock flying around its territory (an activity known as ‘roding’), but no nightjars. We were, however, lucky enough to briefly hear a Dartford warbler, another rare bird that likes the heathland habitat provided by Chobham Common.

Dartford warbler (picture from web)

At around 9.45, with mist starting to rise in the valley below us, we heard our first nightjar, about 100 yards away, and shortly after we heard two more, so we know there are at least 3 of them.  I once read somewhere that if you wave a white handkerchief in the air, it can attract nightjars to you, as they can mistake your hankie for a giant moth.  So it was, that the IPDG patiently waved a white handkerchief whilst I scoured the growing darkness for nightjars. Well, I can announce that this old wives tale does not work, in fact I wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t frighten them away, as we never saw a single nightjar.

Getting dark now - Daisy and the IPDG

The insects were starting to bite when we decided it was time to make a tactical retreat at around 10.15, and we successfully found our way back to the car park. Whilst we hadn’t seen any nightjars, we didn’t feel it had been a wasted trip, as we not only heard them, but also heard a Dartford warbler, and saw a woodcock. So on an expedition to find one species of rare bird, we actually found three of them.    I was looking forward to announcing this at our next club meeting. They would soon regret not coming.

Not seen by us - nightjar flying (picture from web)

Liverpool Reunion day 2 - Ferry

21^st May 2016.  Les has organised a packed programme for us today. First up, after a leisurely breakfast is an open-top bus tour of the city. Experience has taught me that open top bus tours are the best way to get your bearings when visiting a city for the first time. The IPDG and I have done this all over the world, from Bath to San Diego, and generally the tours have been excellent, with local guides full of enthusiasm and pride for their city. The only downside for us is that the upstairs part of the bus is not usually accessible, so we have to sit downstairs.

Liverpool Open-top bus

Today we were glad to be downstairs, as we had checked today’s weather forecast, and rain was due this morning. I’m not sure all of our travelling companions were aware of this, as there was a stampede to the upstairs deck, which was open to the elements. A few spots of rain started to fall as we boarded the bus, which wouldn’t have been a problem, but within a couple of minutes it turned into a downpour. There was another stampede now, this time to get out of the rain, as the downstairs part of the bus became packed, with standing room only.

Shop front showing support for Liverpool FC

The initial feeling of smugness I felt at choosing the correct part of the bus was replaced with the usual dilemma – should I offer my seat to a more deserving person? This is a problem I have regularly encountered, going back to my school days. The decision was easy then, I was told to ‘get up and let the lady sit down’. I had no problem with that, I knew where I stood, literally. When I left school, things were still quite easy, after all most people on the bus were older than me, and even if they weren’t older, I’d be trying to impress them with my selflessness.

Is it starting to rain?

Then there was a gap of about 30 years, when I drove everywhere and hardly ever used public transport. But then one day my employers decided I would be just the right person to take up a vacant position in Brixton, South London, and I joined that intensely put-upon group of people called commuters. Now my travel plans were constantly at the mercy of train breakdowns, strikes by railway workers, leaves on the line and even the wrong type of snow. Also I had to face the problem of whether or not to offer my seat to others on crowded trains. It was very difficult to know what to do for the best. For a start, I seemed to be older than most other people on the train, so why should I give up my seat to someone younger and probably fitter than me?

Could be a museum

On the way to work in the morning, the train started from Shepperton, so I always had a seat. However as the train stopped at other stations (17 in all) on its way to London, more people got on, until eventually there was standing room only. I convinced myself that I didn’t need to offer up my seat in the morning, as I invariably had a window seat, and it would cause too much chaos if I tried to offer it to someone else. However in the evening I could normally only find an outside seat, so I felt in the firing line. My decision on whether I gave it up or not was usually made randomly, based on whether I liked the look of the woman (I never would give up my seat to a man unless he looked like he was really struggling). Sometimes there was embarrassment, when the woman for whom I had vacated my seat said ‘I’m fine thanks’ or words to that effect, which always made me feel like a fool. On other occasions, I felt a warm glow of self righteousness at my gallantry, like the time when a pregnant woman almost cried with gratitude.

An indistinguishable building....

......And another

A statue of somebody

Anyway, back to today. As the DGs and their consorts came downstairs on the open top bus, soaking wet from the deluge that had arrived as we set off, I looked around for someone to give my seat to, but no-one was looking my way, so I took that to mean they were all happy to be standing up. Also I was on the inside seat, which would have made it awkward, or so I convinced myself, and I settled down to enjoy the views of a rain-sodden Liverpool afforded by my bus window.

Could be Trafalgar Square for all I know

Liverpool has two cathedrals, an Anglican one and a more recently built Catholic one, called the Metropolitan. We passed them both, but I could hardly see anything out of the rain lashed windows, which were also starting to steam up. We passed Universities, Museums and various other important landmarks such as the Liver Building, but I didn’t see any of them. The guide kept our spirits up with a non-stop stream of facts, stories and gossip about the City and its people, with plenty of amusing anecdotes. One fact we were given was that the area around today’s waterfront was originally marshland, and the grass that grew there was called ‘liver’, hence the name Liverpool derived. I have failed to find any reference to the naming of Liverpool which corroborates that explanation, but that’s what the guide said so who am I to argue?

I think this is a cathedral....

.....And this might be another

Towards the end of our tour the bus drove alongside the Mersey, and through the rain and mist we could just make out the Mersey ferry approaching the pier. The next leg of our trip today was to be a ride across the Mersey on that very boat, immortalised by the Gerry and the Pacemakers’ song. I hoped the rain would ease off by then, or we wouldn’t be seeing very much.

There is supposed to be a Mersey ferry in this picture

As if by magic, the rain did ease off as we alighted from the bus, and by the time we had got on board the ferry and obtained a hot chocolate from the café, the rain had stopped completely. I had thought that the ferry just plied between Liverpool and Birkenhead, but it actually makes a couple stops, at Seacombe, then Woodside, and back to Liverpool. One of the ferries has had a fancy paint job, and is called the Dazzle ferry. I saw this when we came to Liverpool last year, but thought there were several painted like this, but it seems there is just one. It’s paint scheme commemorates the First World war, when ships were painted different colours to baffle enemy U-boats and aircraft.

Dazzle ferry

As the clouds cleared, we got some good views of landmarks on both sides of the river. Some of the grandest looking buildings on the Birkenhead side turned out to be ventilation shafts for the different Mersey tunnels. They are marvels of architecture, despite their use being somewhat mundane. On the Liverpool side, we had grand views of the Royal Liver building, with the famous birds securely strapped to the top.

Queensway Tunnel ventilation tower

Good view of the Liver building from the ferry

It was lunch time now, and as we got off the ferry, we made our way to a bustling Restaurant on Albert Dock, where we had a very merry buffet lunch laid on for us. The rest of the afternoon was spent wandering around the Merseyside Maritime Museum; what an amazing place that was. In one area they had recreated a dockland street scene from 19^th century Liverpool, where you could imagine you were one of the 9 million who emigrated from Liverpool to various parts of the world in the hope of a better life. There were other displays telling the stories of the hardships faced by these people, who came from all across Europe to reach Liverpool. So fascinating was it that I never got to see the other 90% of the Museum before it was time to leave. I must improve my time management.

Now we were off back to the Hotel for a short late afternoon rest. Over another fine dinner in the Hotel the DG’s exchanged reminiscences of their year. One of the most amusing came from David Palmer, DG of London District. He told the story of a visit to one of his clubs, who met in an upstairs room of a pub in North London. What he hadn’t immediately realised was that customers of the pub had to walk through their meeting room to get to the toilets, and there wasn’t much in the way of sound proofing between the rooms. I had a good laugh at his description of trying to make a speech whilst some, shall we say, intimate noises were coming from the toilet, before a red-faced man emerged and made his way back to the bar.

The IPDG chats to Martin and Wendy Williams

Doug, Rosemary,  Stuart, Janice, Tim

During the meal, arrangements were discussed for next year’s reunion, which Stan Keller will organise in his Essex District. The year after that we will go to Scotland, and the following year the South Coast. I think it will be a while before the IPDG’s turn comes up. After breakfast there were fond farewells, before we all headed off home. I was pleased that we drove past the famous Penny Lane on the way home, as it hadn’t been included on the bus tour.

Liverpool Reunion Day 1 - Cavern

20^th May 2016. It is almost a year since I stepped down from my office of Consort to the District Governor, but I have remained exceptionally busy with Rotary work. Besides being Consort to the Immediate Past District Governor, I am occasionally Consort to the current president of Shepperton Aurora Rotary Club, and have also been preparing to be the President of Shepperton Aurora myself from July this year. As Chair of the Admin Committee, I am responsible for most of our social events. So far this year I have arranged London walks, visits to Stately Homes, Skittles evenings, lunches in prison, even a climb over the O2 building in London.

At the summit of the O2 in London

It was nice therefore to get away from all that for a weekend to join the first reunion of all the DGs of 2014 – 15 (and their Consorts) in Liverpool.  It was organised by our good friend Les Wilson, whose District includes Liverpool as well as North Wales. There will be a reunion every year, and the DGs from that year will take turns to arrange it in their own Districts.  Only 3 or 4 of the 29 DGs were unable to attend, so it was a good turnout, and Les had organised a busy weekend for us.

                                                                               Liverpool Waterfront (picture from web)

The IPDG and I left about 9 a.m. for the drive up to Liverpool, after dropping Daisy off at Linda’s, who was looking after her for the weekend. I bribed her with rhubarb from the garden, which she loves (Linda, that is).  We like to set off early, particularly on Fridays, to avoid the worst of the traffic, and our first stop was at the Little Chef at Bicester, where I had my usual, the Olympic breakfast.

Home-grown rhubarb

Traffic on the M6 was horrendous, but the Sat Nav lady found an alternative route via the Birkenhead tunnel which she claimed would save us an hour. Our  hotel , the Jury’s Inn was in the Albert Dock area of the city, where we had spent some time last year, and was familiar to us. However with no parking at the Hotel, I had to drop off the IPDG and drive a quarter of a mile back to the nearest car Park, where the car remained for the rest of the weekend. It was good to meet up  in the Hotel foyer with friends from around the country, including the IPRIBIP (I’ll let you work that one out, answers on a postcard please) Peter King and his lovely wife Di.

Jury's Inn Liverpool

Meeting up with old friends

Les had organised a full programme of events for us all, and this afternoon we walked to the Cavern Club. It is not the original Cavern, which was demolished many years ago, but is a faithful reconstruction on the same site of the original. It was terrific, full of old posters and memorabilia from the Beatles days, and there were even bands playing live in two areas.  I think there was some kind of music festival going on in the Cavern, and when we  arrived,  a Brazilian band was playing on the main stage. In the next room a young man giving a very passable impersonation of John Lennon, was singing Beatles songs from the sixties.

Band from Brazil on stage at The Cavern Club

What amazed me was that entry was free. I have become used to paying rip off prices as a tourist, and it was a pleasure to learn that museums (which is how the Cavern Club is classified)  in Liverpool are all free.  We had a couple of drinks at the bar (normal pub prices), savouring the atmosphere, before moving on.

Beatles memorabilia on display

On the way back to the Hotel we stopped in the Liverpool One Shopping centre. I had thought that it must be named after its Post Code, but its name apparently comes from the fact that it cost one million pounds to build. I noticed that Everton FC still have their shop there, called EvertonTwo (postal address: Everton Two, Liverpool One, get it?).

Everton Two, Liverpool One

That evening, we had a very convivial dinner in the Hotel, which was full of reminiscing about  our year in the firing line as District Governors and Consorts. I think it fair to say that most people enjoyed their years, although just about everybody had difficult issues to deal with at some point during their year. The IPDG normally likes to be last to leave the bar on these occasions, but it had been a long day for us and we retired to bed before midnight.

Sheila, Rosemary, Doug and the IPDG

The Queen's 90th Birthday

I was delighted to receive an invitation to attend an event at TS Black Swan, home of the Sunbury and Walton Sea Cadets to mark the 90th birthday of Her Majesty the Queen.  Although I have seen the Queen on a number of occasions, I have never been introduced to her before, so I was looking forward to being able to have a chat with her, and wish her a Happy Birthday. I did actually speak to her once, many years ago, but I don’t think she heard me, as she was being driven past me in a car at the time.

It did seem rather remarkable, that given all the invitations she must have received, she would choose to come to Shepperton to spend a few hours on her birthday.  So remarkable, in fact, that it wasn’t true. I had misunderstood – her birthday was being celebrated at the Black Swan in her absence.  Nevertheless, there was a busy programme of events this evening,  including the raising of the colours, the lighting of a beacon in honour of the Queen’s birthday, and a demonstration of some drills. I was accompanied by a small group from the Rotary club, including Gill, Ken, Doreen, Tony, Janet and Peter  Matthews as we arrived  at the clubhouse, which is hidden down the end of Penny Lane, near Walton Bridge.

Unit HQ

It was a chilly evening and we were glad of the chance for a drink inside the clubhouse (which I think is correctly called the Unit HQ), where I met Gail Cramp, chairman of the Sea Cadets.  What I hadn’t realised until now, was just how much the Sea Cadets appreciate the support we have given them over recent years. On a wall was a ladder showing the progress the Unit has made towards their ultimate goal of rebuilding their HQ.  Shepperton Aurora Rotary is included in the list of major donors.

Boat on the river

Soon it was time to go outside, where the Unit has a Parade Ground alongside the river. Here various dignitaries gathered ( e.g. The High Sheriff of Surrey, Mayor of Spelthorne, local councillors, me) to witness the raising of the colours and lighting of the beacon. Unfortunately I had forgotten to bring my gong, which made me feel a bit left out, as all the other dignitaries, resplendent in their chains of office, were shown to the front seats, whereas I had to sit a couple of rows behind.

The front row - where I should have been

The lighting of the beacon wasn’t quite what I had expected. Before the event I had in my mind a vision of a beacon being lit on top of a hill, forming part of a chain across the country, each within sight of the next one. What a grand spectacle that would have been.  The reality, however, was a little less dramatic, although no less public-spirited.  Whilst there were indeed hundreds of beacons lit that evening, they tended to be in the middle of communities, outside churches, schools and such public places; in fact anyone who wanted to light a beacon could apply for permission to do so.

The mayor's hair seems to be on fire

In this case the beacon was gas lit, so lighting it was very easy, and was accompanied by a rendition of Happy Birthday from the 100 or so people present.  Following  speeches from the High Sheriff of Surrey Elizabeth Kennedy, and Spelthorne mayor Mark Francis, we were treated to a demonstration of marching from the cadets as they performed intricate drills without appearing to put a foot wrong. The drills had a naval sound to them, as cadets were instructed to turn ‘inboard’, ‘outboard’, ‘fore’ and ‘aft’. We learned that the Unit has had great success with drilling, having won National competitions. On the face of it, they just appeared to be marching back and forth, but in fact they were following very precise orders and I didn’t see them put a foot wrong.

The High Sheriff addresses the throng

It was an enjoyable evening, and I think we were all impressed with the Ship’s Company. All the adult organisers were unpaid volunteers, and the young people were certainly trained in Naval disciplines to a very high standard. It was also nice to hear that they were planning to change the name of their Unit soon to incorporate ‘Shepperton’ into the title.

Marching hither...

....and marching thither

Birthday celebrations

Skittles

10^th March.  I have decided to re-introduce a former tradition in our Rotary Club. We used to have an annual Skittles evening which everybody enjoyed, but for some reason this lapsed a few years ago. So I thought it was time we started up again, and persuaded our Admin Committee (of which I am chairman) to organise a skittles evening. The IPDG checked out the venue we used to go to, The Greyhound pub in Eton Wick, and found the skittles alley was still there, so a date was decided upon, the alley was booked and buffet food ordered.

Skittles

To make things a little more interesting we invited local clubs to join us, and we ended up with David and Geoff from Chertsey club with their wives, and Kevin and Charles from Staines. It’s a bit of a drive to Eton Wick, particularly on a dark evening at rush hour, but everyone seems to have Sat Nav these days, and I didn’t need to create a map for anyone. The pub is actually hidden down a side street, not immediately visible from the main road.

The Greyhound

As it was several years since we were last there, I didn’t really know what to expect. The first thing I noticed, that hadn’t been there before, was a smoking area just outside the entrance to the skittles alley. Accompanying a few smokers sitting there was rather a large Rottweiler dog, which we had to get past in order to reach the relative safety of the bar. Not only that, he was staring at me in a way that seemed aggressive. However, he turned out to be one of the soppiest dogs I have met and only wanted to be patted.

Rottweiler

Once into the Skittles alley, I was pleasantly surprised to find it very well appointed and tidy, in fact smarter than I remembered it. Ken, as usual, had got there first, and the rest of us arrived gradually afterwards. I was pleased to see Karen had managed to come along, even though we hadn’t expected her.

Skittle Alley at The Greyhound

At this point, the IPDG demonstrated her weakness at mental arithmetic, which cost us a few quid. There was no charge for hiring the venue, we just had to pay for the buffet food. As we numbered 19 altogether, the IPDG sent me into the bar to pay for the food. At £12 per head the total cost was £228 which I duly paid. Only later did she say that it was a pity we didn’t have one more person, as the cost was just £10 per head if there were 20 or more.  If I’d known that before, I would have paid for 20 people, which would have cost only £200!

Skittles is an ancient game, probably the forerunner to the ten pin bowling played today. The big difference, of course, is that ten pin bowling is fully automated, so the skittles are re-erected mechanically and scores are worked out in an instant. I never really covered myself in glory playing 10 pin bowling. In fact someone once commented, after yet another ball had failed to hit a pin, ‘I always knew you would end up in the gutter’.

10  pin bowling

With skittles, the work is all done manually, although at least there is no gutter. To make things more interesting, the skittles are wooden, and not exactly uniform. Sometimes they are difficult to erect as they wobble, or lean to one side. Furthermore the ‘ball’ is also made of wood, and isn’t exactly spherical, so it dances around a bit as it rolls toward the skittles. All this means that great skill, or a lot of luck, is required to regularly achieve good scores.

The bar at The Greyhound

Seventeen of us were actually playing the game tonight, with Ken being ‘ball-boy’ and the IPDG doing scoring (well, no-one else offered). All players had a practice round and then 3 scoring rounds. Everyone gets to bowl 3 balls when it’s their turn. Therefore the skittles would have to be reset 68 times during the evening, and more often than that if somebody knocks them all down after 1 or 2 balls, as I did regularly of course. When organising the event I did ask if anybody could bring along a teenager to do all the picking up and re-setting of the skittles, but my request fell on deaf ears. Instead the task of setting them up after each turn was shared between Chris, Ron, Brian, Tony, Doreen and myself, as we were the only ones able to bend over, reach the floor, and get up again.

Mid-way through the evening we stopped to enjoy the buffet, which was excellent, and good value, even at £12 per head. When we came here in the past, the food was always a highlight, and I had been concerned whether tonight’s offering would live up to those memories, but it did.

Welcome refreshments

As far as the competition went, we divided ourselves into two teams. I tried to keep it competitive by setting husbands and wives against each other on opposite teams. This seemed to work well, as my team ran out the narrow winners, despite Karen scoring two strikes with two balls for our opponents in her last round. I didn’t consider it necessary to check the scoring, which I’m sure was accurate.

Now pick them up

Looking back on the evening, everyone seemed to enjoy themselves, and it was good to socialise with members of two other local clubs. I think I will try and make this an annual event once again, but to try and enlist a couple of youngsters to undertake the picking up and setting down of the skittles.

End of a successful evening (for my team)