Extinction Rebellion

Last week I went to an Extinction Rebellion (XR) meeting for the first time! It was a last-minute, spontaneous, "why not?" thing. I'd just got off the train on my way back from work when a friend I was chatting to on Messenger suggested I come along to an XR meeting, at a coffee shop in town at 6pm. I had just got to town and 6pm was only 40 minutes away, and I was only going to go home and watch a film or something, so I thought I might as well - I'd been planning on going to a public meeting on August 13th to find out more anyway. So I went and got a sandwich from Pret's (too hot and not enough time for a hot meal) and went to find the coffee shop.

(For anyone who isn't really sure what/who Extinction Rebellion is, it's a socio-political grassroots movement using nonviolent civil disobedience to protest against climate breakdown, biodiversity loss, and the risk of societal and ecological collapse, and wants to rally worldwide support around a common sense of urgency to tackle these issues.)

The meeting was easy to spot from the Extinction Rebellion sign on an outdoor table. I was the first person there and checked with the two XR people - a woman in her 20s and a man in his 70s - that it was okay for me to join in as a non-member. They were happy to welcome me, saying it was just an informal thing. My friend arrived a minute later and soon more people came along. There were about 11 people in the end, and everyone seemed really nice and friendly, it was great to be around other like-minded people who cared about the things XR stands for. I've always loved nature and the environment and I hate what we're doing to this planet, but I haven't really met anyone before with whom I can talk about that kind of thing, who also share my concern and passion for it. It was a calm environment, just people chatting normally, but for me it was so energising, and within a very short space of time I knew I definitely wanted to be a member and do what I can to contribute, and I went home and signed up online. They have several working groups people can join if they wish - something like 'Action, Logistics, & Arts', 'Regenerative Culture', 'Media & Messaging', 'Outreach, Community & Training', 'Lobbying & Advocacy', 'Science & Research', and 'Fundraising & Finance'. I liked the sound of the Regenerative Culture one, which is a sort of wellbeing support group, making sure everyone is taking care of themselves.

In case anyone is concerned, I have no intention of doing anything that may lead to my being arrested. People can get involved to whatever extent they wish, so not everyone goes to the actions, and the protesters who do get arrested are all volunteers, they are willing to be "arrestable". XR always let the police know in advance what they plan to do, where and when, and the police warn protesters before they start making arrests so that anyone who doesn't want to be arrested can leave. Also, few XR arrests have led to charges. In the experience of the XR members at the meeting, the police generally have goodwill towards them, don't want to arrest them, and are there more to protect XR from the general public than to stop XR causing trouble. They said they've felt perfectly safe when surrounded by police, but the most difficult thing about protesting is dealing with the emotion of some members of the general public, i.e. people getting annoyed or angry at them. Some people don't agree with what they're doing, that they shouldn't break the law and cause disruption for people just going about their daily business, and take up police time.

I understand that, and protesters aren't indifferent to the fact that they're causing inconvenience or upset; they're doing this because they care about people, about humanity, so it's tough for them knowing that their actions may disrupt people's lives in one way or another. But scientists and environmentalists have been trying for decades to make people listen to their warnings about climate change, and have been mostly ignored, and now it's very nearly too late. My friend summed it up perfectly: "You can't achieve anything if people aren't willing to look at what's going on. That's a large part of what XR is, it's making people aware. If they won't pay attention without insistence, then insistence is justified." XR aren't violent, just disruptive.

If we look back to the big movements of the past, and their leaders who we now regard as heroes, they generally weren't liked at the time either, they were often hated and persecuted, and it's only later that we realised that what they were fighting for was a good thing: the slave trade abolitionists, the Suffragettes, Ghandi, Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela, etc.

This time, it's about the future of the entire human race, all the other species we share the Earth with, and this one planet that is our only home. Everyone, every single person, is going to have to do things they don't feel like doing and give up things they'd rather not give up. Not in five or ten years time, but now. Or humanity faces extinction. That is not an exaggeration. Animals and biodiversity and environments and fellow humans are already suffering, and unfortunately it's going to get worse before it gets better. People need to look outside of the comfort zones of their daily life and look at the bigger picture, and take action for the greater good, even if it's inconvenient. Direct action (non-violent) and civil disobedience - rebellion and revolution - is needed. The people in power, governments and big businesses, will have no choice but to take notice if enough people demand it.

I could spend more time on this and think of more things I want to say, but I need to practice writing shorter posts (not that this is exactly a short one) and just getting down what's on my mind at the time. I can write other things at other times.

I've had strong views about these sorts of things for a long time, but I haven't been brave enough to voice them or do much about them. I haven't even done things like share posts I see on Facebook. It's high time I start, and I'm glad to have finally found a group of people who feel the same as I do, and I can get involved. #RebelForLife

Cohousing and community

I did originally include this in my previous post, about my weekend in west Dorset, but I thought I'd make that one a bit shorter, and create a separate post for what I say here. However, be prepared for a rather long post, unbroken by nice photos! :P

As I said in that post, the reason I went with my friends to Dorset was to attend a little informal event organised by Bridport Cohousing, a cooperative running an ambitious development project to build a cohousing neighbourhood of 53 homes. For anyone who doesn't know what cohousing is, basically they're intentional communities created and maintained by their residents, where there are shared community spaces, facilities, and amenities, to encourage interaction and formation of close relationships, but each household still has a self-contained private home. Shared spaces are usually things like a large room for regular shared meals or film- or games-nights or meetings or parties, a laundry room, one or two guest rooms, transport, gardens, etc, and residents share in the upkeep and maintenance of these areas and decision-making for the community. Most also have some focus on eco-friendly practices and sustainability, although the ethos, values, aims, etc. of each community will vary.

We in the modern world have largely lost our sense of neighbourliness and community. Gone are the days when everyone on a street knew each other and could offer friendship, support, and collaboration. It's alienating and isolating, especially for people who have little or no family or friends. Cohousing is a way to combat that, and more and more people are becoming interested in it. In the UK there are currently 21 established, 34 developing, and 18 forming, cohousing communities. Generally they used to be groups leasing big old manor houses and grounds, moving in and perhaps doing them up a bit, but in recent years some have built their own new developments. Hazelmead - the neighbourhood Bridport Cohousing is creating - is the largest purpose-built cohousing development in the UK so far, and has been 10 years in the making.

As exciting as this project and others like it are, it's also a real shame that they're so difficult and time-consuming to achieve, that we have to work so hard to try and claw back something we have let ourselves lose. For big mainstream housing developers who throw up hundreds of identical character-less properties in a matter of months, the process is undoubtedly much quicker and easier. There is a housing crisis, yes, but there's also a social crisis (heck, there are an awful lot of crises right now, all interlinked), and there needs to be much more thought put into facilitating opportunities for people to connect with their neighbours and create little communities. It's not difficult. Instead of providing each individual flat in a building with its own washing machine, which may only get used once a week, (or just leaving a space for one so residents have to spend yet more money on buying their own), why not use that space for extra storage or something and have a communal laundry room, where people can bump into each other and hopefully start chatting? Instead of an ornamental rooftop garden of plants surrounded by pebbles, paths, and one or two benches, perhaps lay down some grass, plant a few fruit trees and some wildflowers, mark out a few vegetable plots, and add in a couple of BBQ stands and picnic benches? Making new builds largely or even fully sustainable and eco-friendly, and encouraging residents to be more so, also does not have to be difficult, but I won't go into that now.

Even if you can't or don't fancy living in a cohousing community, you probably can find or create a little sense of community and neighbourliness in your area. You may be lucky and already feel a sense of community within a group you're part of, such as a church or some other group with common values, interests, and aims. But if you don't have that then there are things you can do, with a little bit of bravery and perhaps a few ideas from the good old internet. Suggest to your neighbours that you share things which don't get used everyday, like vacuum cleaners, household tools, barbecues, lawn mowers and garden shed contents, etc. Invite them round for a potluck meal, where everyone brings a dish to share. Start a community garden, or share your own garden. Organise a street or garden party. Organise a litter clean-up. Use local independent shops more. Simply make eye contact, smile or nod, and say hello as you pass people.

I need to start doing / get better at doing these things, particularly the last. It's not easy, especially for an introvert. But loneliness is an epidemic, and as bad for our health as smoking. Lack of good social connection is a major issue, a major factor in depression. A bit more of a sense of friendliness, friendship, and community, or even just simple kindness, can make such a difference to everyone's lives - it can even save lives.

Part of me would love to be part of Bridport Cohousing and be living in Hazelmead in a couple of years time. The members and future residents we met and spoke to were really nice and friendly and obviously share some of my values and interests, their project is amazing, west Dorset is beautiful, and, although I barely saw any of it, Bridport seems a nice little market town. When I told my colleague the following Monday about my weekend, she immediately said she could see me living in Dorset rather than Hampshire, which was interesting. However, as I said at the end of my last post, my two friends and I were all sad to leave on the Sunday, and part of the reason was that we don't really believe going back there in the context we want to is possible for us right now. If we felt it was possible, we would be excited.

So why do not I feel it's possible for me?

• I'm not even close to being in a position to buy my own place, and to rent a one-bedroom flat in the development I'd have to become a paying member of the cohousing group, move to West Dorset, register with the local housing association, and hope they accept my bid for a flat in Hazelmead. 
• To become a member of the group, I'd have to attend at least four of their events so they can get to know me and get an idea of whether I'd be a good fit, and vice versa - but it takes a lot of time and money to get down to Bridport, and it's not too long before selection of residents is due to start. 
• I don't think I could really move out of Southampton for another year at least - the tenancy on my current flat won't be renewed till February, and next month I'll finally be starting the assessment process for being on the autistic spectrum, which could take a long while. 
• Bridport is a small market town (population ~15,000), so a place to live until I could move into Hazelmead and a job would be hard to come by. 
• I might not be able to afford to live on my own, even in a cheaper area and at 80% of the open market rates in that area. 
• I can't drive, and the public transport connections there probably aren't great. The nearest train stations are all 12-15 miles away, buses from Bridport to those towns are infrequent and probably take nearly an hour, and the trains then take an hour and a half back to Hampshire. It would be a faff to get anywhere.
• Bridport is pretty far away from everyone, and moving there would mean starting from scratch completely by myself. While living in a cohousing community with like-minded people would be great, am I the sort of person who can really make that work for myself? I have a few friends in or near Southampton, and am starting to get a few more, and that's not an easy thing for me to achieve, it's taken a long time. I'm doing more with my family, too. It might be best for me to stay nearby.

Although I don't feel it to be much of a likelihood right now for the above reasons, it's not impossible. In fact, the Bridport Cohousing members we spoke to said they really need people in their 20s among their members and residents, and they want people who share their ethos, not just random locals - so if I managed to get down there then it's pretty likely I'd get accepted. I think it's important that I explore this a bit more, and get a better idea of whether it's something I'd actually like to do. I can make the effort to get down there for another event in August or September, during which I could get to know the people better, find out more about and explore the town, its public transport links, what sort of things there are to do there, how I feel about how far away it is, etc. I could look at the websites of local estate agents to get a better idea of what sort of places I could rent while waiting for a Hazelmead place and for how much, and job websites. That'd give me a better idea as to whether or not I want to seriously pursue the option, and I'd have another nice weekend in a lovely place while I'm at it.

Hazelmead isn't the only cohousing place I'll visit, and cohousing isn't the only future-living option I'll look into. It's completely possible that owning my own home someday may not be possible, and I want to explore as many paths as I can and choose one for myself that I think is best for me and I am most content with. But that's for another post, another time. To finish, a reminder - social connection is something that we as humans are biologically wired to crave, and we cannot thrive without it, but we are letting ourselves and others forget it's importance. So maybe have a think about how you could foster a little more connection, friendship, kindness, and sense of community with your neighbours, colleagues (or just people who work in the same building), friends, family, and strangers on the street :)

A weekend in west Dorset, July 2019

I spent last weekend, 13th and 14th July, down near Bridport, in beautiful west Dorset, in the company of two wonderful friends and their two crazy cocker spaniels =]

We drove down Saturday afternoon, and went straight to the campsite to get the tent up before dark. My first time camping! (I don't really count the night in a pop-up tent at a folk festival several years ago.) We stayed at the small adults-only Hobby Farm Camping, near Whitchurch Canonicorum, which is actually where my friends' ancestors lived a couple of centuries ago before coming east to work on the railway. Some of the "villages" in the area aren't villages in the sense that I'm used to, they're only called so because they have a church and a pub. Few have shops, and they're made up of cottages and houses and farms dotted here and there along stretches of single track lanes which twist and turn and do an awful lot of winding through the hills and hedgerows. Most houses are made from the local warm-coloured sandstone, so they're all very pretty.

The campsite was a field with a pretty little pond, and we parked ourselves at one end under a couple of lovely big oaks. There were two fairly new sheds at the opposite end, one containing a loo and washbasin, the other a shower, both really decent and clean. Despite my never having put up a tent before, two of us managed to do it relatively quickly, while the third took the dogs for a walk in the adjacent field to keep them from getting in the way. For dinner we originally tried the Shave Cross Inn, a pretty place with a flower-filled beer garden we glimpsed through the gate in the wall - but that was closed. Luckily, a local couple pulled into the car park at the same time, hoping to have dinner there as well, and they suggested another place we could try. So we made our way to the White Lion Inn in Broadwindsor, another gorgeous chocolate box village. We were glad the first one had been closed, because this one was really nice, the food was good and really reasonably priced (like, below average price: just under £10 for my main). We were all tired and got comfort food - for me it was steak and kidney suet pudding, with new potatoes and fresh veggies - and we shared a sticky toffee pudding with custard for dessert :) All yummy =]

My first night of camping was fine; of course it wasn't the most comfortable night's sleep I've had but it wasn't too bad, it didn't rain and I didn't get chilly or too hot. It was really nice waking up early on a sunny summer day in the countryside - peace and quiet, no noise except birdsong and cattle. Well, mostly. We were all woken up at about 6am when a pheasant in a nearby field called out, just once, causing the two cocker spaniels to be instantly fully awake and alert and wanting to get out of the tent. My friends managed to get them to settle down and drift off to sleep again fairly quickly, but the pheasant called again ten minutes later, and about ten minutes after that, and so on and so on, and the dogs kept getting up then drifting off again, etc. We got up eventually, and in our PJs walked up the hill in the next field, which provided a lovely view over the green, peaceful countryside for miles and miles :)

The main reason we went to Dorset was to go to a little event on the Sunday; the three of us are all interested in cohousing, community living, eco-friendly and sustainable living, etc., and a group called Bridport Cohousing were running a small, informal meet-and-chat thing. They're in the process of developing a new cohousing neighbourhood and the event was for people interested in the project to come along, meet the members, and find out more. I originally wrote more detail about this but it became an exceedingly long essay which could easily be separated into two, so that will be my next post! The meetup was held at the Symondsbury Estate, an old manor and farm that's been converted into a wedding venue, cafe-restaurant, village shop, a few other retail units, and a couple of holiday cottages. Lovely, charming place! We sat outside at the cafe with some of the group's members; they were lovely and friendly, it was great to meet some like-minded people, and I thought the project sounded amazing. I treated myself to a glass of the estate's homemade apple juice, and a slice of pistachio, almond and lemon tray bake, which had a lovely moist and nutty texture but sadly didn't have much flavour at all :(

Afterwards, we took the dogs for a walk up to the nearby Colmer's Hill, which towered above the surrounding area. The path to get there passed through some more of the estate. There was a gorgeous little holiday-rental double-size shepherds hut that all of us exclaimed about and would absolutely love to live in - it was just the size of a Tiny House. There was an area with ever so pretty wildflowers, and a young cherry tree with the most glorious, luscious, shining, deep-red fruit on. There were also a few enclosures with sheep, goats, and pigs! Closer to the hill, we saw a really cute "hobbit house", a lovely little whitewashed thatched cottage nestled on the edge of a little woodland at the foot of a hill, which, again, each of us would love to live in.

Colmer's Hill was a little bit of a steep climb but I enjoyed the exercise and the 360-degree views from the top were great. It was getting a little hazy in the distance, we couldn't tell if it was sea fog rolling in or light rain, but you could see for many miles. We stayed up there for a short rest - the breeze was so nice! - then headed back down again to get a roast for a late lunch at the pub down the road. Sadly the food wasn't as nice as it had been at the place we'd got dinner the night before, but oh well. After that we said goodbye to pretty Symondsbury and drove back to the campsite to pack up. I had to sit in a camping chair which had the dogs' leads tied around its feet, so that they couldn't run around and get in the way of my friends dismantling the tent, but thankfully they were quite tired and laid or pottered around peaceably; I don't think my light weight would have held them if they'd decided to go charging around, haha!

After leaving the campsite, we went to nearby Seatown, thinking a nice walk along the beach would be good. Unfortunately dogs aren't allowed on the beach during summer, so we just took them up the hill behind it and into a little meadow to run around, then after a while back down to the Anchor Inn, where we sat outside on the low clifftop with a drink and a sandwich to last us till we got home (it was nearly four hours after lunch by this time). It was so beautiful - mostly clear skies, warm sunshine, pebbly beach, cliffs, grassy hills, gorgeous calm blue sea...

Needless to say, we didn't want to leave, but at about 7:30pm we had to, as it was a couple of hours at least back to Southampton. It had been such a lovely weekend, but it did highlight to all of us our dissatisfaction with our current urban environments, and craving for something different. One of my friends said that perhaps part of why we were so sad at leaving was because we don't really believe that going back there in the context we'd like to - as members and future residents of the cohousing group - is possible for us right now. But I'll talk about that, for me at least, in my next post.

But anyway, it was still a really nice weekend, in a beautiful part of the country I haven't been to before, in good weather, with great company and two happy doggies :)

10th July - It's been six years since I went to Canada

On Wednesday, it was six years to the day since I left to go and live in Vancouver, Canada, for what I expected to be a year-long working holiday. I wanted to write something about this last year, at the five-year mark, but didn't know what. I still don't know what.

I guess I feel odd about it because I don't really like thinking about my time over there, it gets me down and I can't think of anything positive to write. The day I left the UK was tough, and during my seven months in Vancouver my anxiety meant that - apart from when I went on organised group trips - I spent most of my time in my room. While I lived in a shared house with nine other people, got along with them and socialised a little, I didn't make any real connections or friends. I had done little research or planning and didn't start looking for a job until I'd done the trips I wanted to do and so many months had passed by then. I didn't go out exploring much at all, and I hate that I wasted so much time in a really cool city and a stunning country, and wasted a large portion of my life savings doing so. I did not make the most of my time there, and don't think I've fully forgiven myself for that yet, even though I couldn't have done any differently at the time.

I don't look back at my time in Canada as an amazing, life-changing experience from which I learned a lot. Another reason why thinking about it gets me down is because I feel I haven't done or achieved very much in my life since coming back - a lot of "should"s. But I know I'm hard on myself. I know that going over there was very brave, and there were a few occasions where I pushed myself out of my comfort zone and did something. And even though I often don't feel like this is the case, or am unable to see how it's the case, I know I've grown quite a bit, such as in confidence.

Enough dwelling on things that get me down. Looking through the photos might cheer me up. The good bits about my time in Canada can be found in the blog I kept, which you can read (or re-read) here: https://lem-canada.blogspot.com/. Unfortunately I was lazy and didn't write about my last few days out there in early February 2014, when I went up north to the Yukon. So maybe I'll write about that now!

Yukon Territory, generally referred to as "the Yukon", is to the north of British Columbia, and I went up there to hopefully see the aurora borealis, go dog-sledding, and experience a real Canadian winter. I stayed in Whitehorse, the territory's capital, located on the Yukon River. I absolutely love the history, it's fascinating. Prior to 1897 it was a very small nameless community based around seasonal fishing camps, but when gold was discovered in the Klondike region to the north, people stampeded to the area and a town quickly sprang up. Around a hundred thousand prospectors set off, many going via the ports on the southwest Alaskan coast then trekking over mountain passes to Whitehorse, from where they could take the Yukon River a few hundred miles further north to the goldfields and the boom town of Dawson City. Only about 30,000 people arrived there, though - many gave up, others died. I do think they were all crazy: the journey was perilous, they had to carry all their own equipment and a year's supply of food, and the Yukon has a sub-arctic climate so, while the short summers are pleasant, winter temperatures average around -20C, the rivers completely freeze over, and much of the ground they had to dig through was permafrost. Just do a Google Image search for "Chilkoot Pass", you'll see some of the photos of the lines of people, looking like ants, making their way up the infamous Golden Staircase. Most ended up being disappointed; a lot of the gold had been dug up by the people who originally found it, and what was left was distributed unevenly. In 1899 gold was found in western Alaska, so many prospectors left the Klondike and the world's last great gold rush was over within just two years of starting. Whitehorse now has a population of around 25,000 people, and Dawson City less than 1500 people.

For the few days I was there I had to hire suitable winter overtrousers, coat, boots, and gloves, to wear on top of normal winter layers - which left me looking like a Michelin Man! During the daytime I could get away with a regular fleece-lined beanie, but when going out at night for the aurora-watching trips, I had to put on one of those trapper hats with the flexible ear flaps covering the ears and cheeks, so I felt even more ridiculous than during the daytime. Definitely needed it, though. I can't begin to describe that level of cold - as I said, minus 20 Celcius. It's sharp, biting, and so dry that it feels better to keep your scarf wrapped around your mouth and nose to try and retain a bit of moisture - but that means that very soon you feel little prickly spiky ice crystals against your face where the scarf, damp from your breath, is freezing. If you choose to keep your mouth and nose exposed then you experience the peculiar sensation of the little hairs inside your nostrils freezing, and sometimes your eyelashes too, and basically any exposed hair. It's instantaneous, the moment you step outside. The proper winter clothes covering the rest of you mean you're comfortable, though, and can get out and about =]

I didn't keep a diary so can't remember most things, the smaller details I usually include in travel posts, but I know what I did. On the first full day I did a guided nature hike. The guide took me and one other person just outside town to the forest, where she talked about the local wildlife and plantlife and hibernation and things. At one point we came to a clearing providing a wonderful view stretching over the frozen river and cliffs and mountains and forest. The silence, the hush that surrounded you in this wilderness, that was awesome too.

On the second day I went on another organised group tour to a wildlife preserve, so it was cool to see the animals - bison, ox, moose (huge), Arctic fox (cute), lynx (gorgeous massive cat with huge padded paws!), etc. I left the best thing for last and did the dog-sledding on the final day. That was great fun! The proper term for it is "mushing". We went out to the dog kennels not far from town, got told a bit about the history and the annual 1000-mile Yukon Quest race and stuff, and eventually got to run our own dog team for a short while! The dogs were harnessed and hitched to the sleds, the group of people were put into pairs, and we set off for a two-hour trip around the area. Each person got an hour sat in the basket of the sled, enjoying the ride, and an hour stood on the back, driving it - which is pretty simple, so not too difficult to get the hang of. The dogs know what they're doing, you don't have to do much. It's a great way to travel and get around.

My three nights in Whitehorse were largely spent, between 10pm and 2am anyway, outdoors, wrapped up in my Michelin Man layers, hoping to see the Northern Lights! It was another organised group tour and we went by minibus to a place away from the lights of town. There was a campfire to sit around, and a hut to go sit inside to get a little warmer and something hot to drink. Some people set up tripods and cameras. I don't think we saw the aurora the first couple of nights, certainly not on the first, but the stars were stunning, and eventually we were lucky. The cameras picked it up before our eyes did. At first it looked like cloud, a faint haze, but gradually it became a bit brighter and took on a slight green hue, and after a little longer you could just about tell that it was ever so slightly and slowly shifting. It was surreal, a bit like your eyes were playing tricks on you. It never looked as it does on photos and TV - clear and bright and vibrant - only the cameras picked that up. But there were a few people in the group who were on an aurora-chasing holiday, going to various places, and they said they'd seen it with their eyes as you see it on TV, so it is possible! Even if it wasn't as spectacular, it's so cool that I've seen the aurora borealis :)

I only got a few hours sleep upon returning to the hotel that third night, as I had to be up super early for my flight back to Vancouver, where I then spent eight hours in the airport before my flight back home for good. I don't know why I didn't leave my case in a storage locker and head back to the city for a few hours, but hey ho, I didn't do a lot of things over there. I really, really want to go back to Canada. Back to Vancouver, Vancouver Island, Whitehorse, the Okanagan, the Rockies, and to places I didn't visit like Dawson City. I wouldn't mind at some point going further east to places like Yellowknife in the Northwest Territories, the east coast Maritime Provinces (particularly Nova Scotia and - home of beloved Anne of Green Gables - Prince Edward Island), and perhaps Montreal, maybe taking the week-long coast-to-coast train across the whole country so I get to see the vast prairies of the central provinces, too. But the west is stunning and I'd rather go back there first, and in a way make up for what I missed the first time around.

...Well that turned out to be longer than I expected, haha, but it has cheered me up - and now you have a little account of my mini-trip to the Yukon, and what I did during my last few days over in Canada in 2014 =]

Thoughts after reading a book: 'Lancelot' by Giles Kristian

Yesterday I finished reading the novel Lancelot by historical fiction writer Giles Kristian. I've always loved the Arthurian legends, so as soon as my eye caught the name "Lancelot" in the bookshop I made a beeline for the stand it was on, grabbed it and devoured the blurb with wide eyes and an excited smile. Stories from past centuries never really delve into characters, you don't get to know them, just read what they do, so I like more modern novels or screen adaptations where the author creates people with personalities, who come to life and you can get to know and care about. (More modern language helps, too, where they mostly talk like people would today and you can understand and relate to them easily.) I don't think anyone's developed Lancelot before, and this book is well written and an enjoyable read, if a little bittersweet from the tragedy and loss that you can't really avoid with these stories.

I went out to the New Forest for a barbecue with my friend yesterday evening and, having finished the book, it got me thinking, again, about the conditions people used to have to deal with. Even on a summer evening, there was a slight chill in the air and even more so in the shade of the woods. In the sixth century, they would have slept on the open ground or in tents where they got little protection from the cold and rain, or in cold stone halls (or sometimes warmer smoke-filled ones), they would have either sweltered in their layers of clothing or been freezing cold, they would have had to wear the same clothes for days on end, stinking of damp fabric, sweat, blood, mud, smoke, and whatever else. Etc. I'm grateful for the simple comforts many of us have these days.

Anyway, so yeah, if you like the stories of King Arthur and company, I recommend this book, Lancelot. The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer-Bradley is also excellent, though very different, a heavier read, told mainly from the perspective of Arthur's sister and full of feminist and pagan themes. I need to re-read that soon, haven't done for several years. Less well known are The King's Name and The King's Peace by Jo Walton. These I discovered through the "Recommended for you" feature on Amazon Kindle six years ago, and they're really good, an interesting re-imagining of the Arthur stories, from the perspective of a woman called Sulien serving in the army of King Urdo.

I need to find and read more historical fiction. I'll check out some of Giles Kristian's other novels - he has a Viking trilogy called Raven, some others that look cool, and I've just found out he recently co-wrote a novel with one of my favourite authors Wilbur Smith (an early Courtney novel called Golden Lion, which follows on from Birds of Prey if anyone knows those books). I've heard Bernard Cornwell is also good. I also need to read The Lost Queen by Signe Pike; the first in a trilogy about a forgotten sixth-century queen who was the twin sister of the man who inspired the legend of Merlin. Oh and I need to carry on reading the Outlander series too! And if anyone knows of any good Robin Hood novels I'd be happy to hear those suggestions, too - I love those stories as much as Arthur's ones! Ahh there's so many! I already have an uncountable number of books on my to-read list.