Earlier today I was in the supermarket, where I was buying sweet treats for the imminent arrival of my parents, who were stopping by for a cuppa en route to Stratford to catch some Shakespeare, daaahling. However, I stayed true to my experimentation with abstinence and decided to buy myself some ‘exciting fruit’ to eat whilst they enjoyed a sugar hit, which felt slightly like a consolation prize, but hey.
Anyway, what struck me whilst I was perusing the shelves, is that cake is SO much cheaper than fruit! You can seriously buy your daily calories’ worth of swiss roll for 60p, whilst a single mango is over a quid and a few lonesome looking blueberries comes to two quid. Crazy, I tell you. I am sure a lot of this is to do with food miles, and in fact I don’t really begrudge spending money on the fruit. It’s more the fact that cake is so cheap that slightly scratches at the soapbox rant part of my brain.
Don’t get me wrong, I am a BIG fan of cake – a good, moist (that word – tee hee!) homemade apple/ carrot/ chocolate/ Victoria sponge/ indeed any flavour cake is one of my favourite foodie treats, especially when teamed with a seriously good latte/flat white coffee. However, at least with homemade cake you have a good idea of what went in it, even if you’d rather not dwell on the overwhelming proportions of butter and sugar. However, I dread to think what weird chemicals end up in a 60p swiss roll…
Aaaanyway, whilst on finances, I managed to get paid for the ‘complimentary’ yoga class that I taught last week, but not from the students, mind. I had forgotten that trying to get money out of students is like trying to get a smile from a bloodhound. Luckily the uni assumed the role of embarrassed parent or guardian and paid up from petty cash amidst profuse apology.
After my class, I had the dubious pleasure of having time to kill in Coventry, so set out to explore the tiny central area that escaped the World War II bombing. Set amongst the higgedly-piggledy 1960s concrete jungle squashed inside the infamous ringroad, the cobbled streets and soft sandstone walls were like a balm to my urban angst. I liked the way the ruins of the original cathedral merged seamlessly into its modern replacement, but I couldn’t decide if I liked the new version or not. It is huge and imposing, ugly even, and looks like it would sit well within Communist Russia. But there is a certain charm in its unashamedly giant, in-your-face presence.
Old meets new.
Coventry Cathedral take two – a thing of beauty?
I loved this sculpture, called ‘Reconciliation‘, set within the old cathedral ruins. The caption reminds us that ‘in the face of destructive forces, human dignity and love will triumph over disaster and bring nations together in respect and peace’. Apparently an identical one lies on a hill in Hiroshima.
Finally, I have just returned from a very interesting talk on bats and tree roosts – not everyone’s idea of a thrilling Thursday evening, I realise. But is gave me a warm feeling inside to look around the room at all of the familiar faces, many bearded, whose rapt expression of fascination probably mirrored my own. Hanging with my ecology tribe… 🙂
Funnily enough, of all the potential tree roost features that we learnt about during the talk, the one that my friend and I remembered on the way home was ‘butt-rot’ – sounds painful…