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Surprise over Eidsdal
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Surprise over Eidsdal
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Recurrent Networks can be improved to remember long range dependencies by using whats called a Long-Short Term Memory (LSTM) Cell. Let’s build one using just numpy! I’ll go over the cell components as well as the forward and backward pass logic.
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Come What May
Image by John of Wirral
Esmerelda / Come What May sailing in the Sound of Bute, Scotland. Inchmarnock and Arran in the distance
Log of the Dinghy Esmerelda or Come What May
Three seasons learning to sail (1998 – 2000)
For years, it seems, it has been at the back of my mind that, when it was convenient, I would learn to sail my own boat. Life being such as it is, I have spent the last nine years living within ten minute’s walk of the sea but have not been in a sailing boat in all that time. Last weekend, I answered an advert in the local paper. Now, I am the proud owner of a 14ft Lark sailing dinghy! Ian, the seller, kindly offered to teach me to sail her. She’s a modest little boat, but seems worth the price. Adam (my elder son) is delighted and is raring to have a go.
Yesterday evening was our first time out on the water, not on the tide, but on West Kirby marine lake in the Dee estuary. I felt very much an incompetent land-lubber. I have a whole new set of coordination skills to learn, certainly more than when learning to ride a motorcycle or drive a car, but this is part of the challenge. I think it helps to have the limbs and bodily plasticity of an octopus.
Ian took me out in the boat for the second time yesterday evening and it was beautiful! – sun sinking in the west, warm blue sky, a gentle breeze and the boat gliding effortlessly through the water. If I am not yet completely hooked, then I soon shall be. My aspirations are modest: I’d be thrilled simply to learn the necessary skills and gain the confidence to navigate the Wirral coast.
This sailing has really got a grip on me. I spent last Thursday night in Manchester so that I could start earlier on Friday in order to be home by 5 p.m. to take the boat out. It was wild! The wind was approaching force 4 and we managed to capsize twice, (although we were the last boat on the lake to do so). It is a wonderful activity which, like mountaineering, is completely absorbing both mentally and physically, and which, if you’re not actually doing it, then you’re thinking about doing it or pottering around with the equipment. I’m pleased, because it has restored a dimension to my life that has been sadly lacking for a few years. Alix and I have decided definitely to withdraw our house from sale and stay put here on the coast, at least for the foreseeable future.
I hesitate to consider my boat an inanimate object. She has several traits suggestive of animation, and female at that:
a nice shape,
requires sensitive handling,
and on two occasions has been quite upset and ditched me.
Friday 12th June 1998
Stimulating, thrilling, absorbing and therapeutic.
We went out last Saturday and plan to again this Saturday. It is time I took it out on my own though, or rather with someone I can’t rely on to take the initiative in a tricky situation. After all, the whole idea is to sail this boat myself. With this in mind, I persuaded my German colleage Tobias to come over on Sunday to join me. He has never sailed, so it’ll be the blind leading the blind, but it has to be the quickest way to learn.
Sunday 14th June 1998
I took the boat out truly as ’skipper‘ this evening (with Tobias). The wind was northerly, gusting force 4, and slightly intimidating – I nearly called the whole thing off – but once we’d cast off it was magical!
Suddenly after all the flapping and palaver of rigging, all is quiet and smooth as we glide downwind. A slightly anxious moment ensues when I realize we’ll have to gybe before we run out of lake, but this manoeuvre works smoothly and I realize with relief that I can actually tack back against the wind.
After an hour, despite some interesting moments, we have managed to avoid capsizing and are still relatively dry. We are rewarded by the sun peeping out from under the clouds just before it vanishes below the horizon.
Clynnog fawr, Lleyn Peninsula, north Wales, July 1998
Wonderful holiday! – the best I think for several years. Brothers Martin and Chris and our three families (15 of us in all) staying in a farm house together. Best of all was to see all the kids together (eight cousins and one half-sister) – how the older ones looked after and amused the younger ones, and also how the younger ones amused the adults, and how the adults are actually kids at heart and behave as such when they are all together. It was invaluable to have so many young cousins for Adam to play with, and to be able to let Ricky trot out into the large green spaces around the house and to play in the sand, knowing that there were nearly always three or four others keeping an eye on him.
The farm itself was in a beautiful location on a magnificent length of coast, north west facing, catching the best of the sunsets. The whole area is delightfully quiet and unspoilt (and only two hours drive from home, even towing the boat). The weather was not ideal, but we still managed to spend a large proportion of the time outside.
At the beginning of the week high winds, cloud and some rain made it quite unsuitable for sailing but we managed some hiking and some went horse riding. By Wednesday, the forecast was slightly better and we’d discovered relative shelter and what seemed to be a nice launching site at the northern end of Llanberis Lake, so we decided to sail come what may. [At this moment Come What May suggested itself as a name for my boat. Only later did I discern the name Esmerelda almost completely faded written on the hull.]
It turned out to be a delightful, sunny and warm afternoon, the shore had trees to climb, sticks and stones to splash in the water and soft grassy spots for picnics. We launched and I was able to take everyone out in turn. For Adam and Alix it was actually their first time, the complexities of child care being what they are. Adam was fairly excited but not a hundred percent confident, he finds it a little intimidating but hopefully that will change. It was the perfect day for him – gentle and warm.
The next day started fine with a light breeze. Majority interest however determined that we go riding again followed by a pub lunch, but in the afternoon I was determined to get the boat out. The tide was up and three of us succeeded in handling it down a steep track to the shore and then over small, slippery, seaweed-covered boulders to the water’s edge.
I still find it miraculous how, once rigged, with a quick shove and hop in, we are gliding through the water as if by magic (hoping a freak gust doesn’t turn us round before I grab hold of the tiller and get the centreplate down!)
Caernarfon Bay, and first time on the sea! The swell was a little daunting as we sailed into deeper water, especially with four adults aboard (not sailed with that many before), but I practised a few tacks, sailing up-wind and down-wind, and she seemed to handle alright without shipping water, albeit a bit heavy at the tiller, so I was happy. It was a delight with the rhythm of the waves and the late afternoon sun sparkling through the spray and sea to the open horizon; with our course set for the open Atlantic I just wanted to keep going. Fortunately, I didn’t. All of a sudden there was no more resistance on the tiller and we swung round into the wind: the rudder had torn off its mounting! I was glad that I’d invested in some oars as a precaution with which we were able to turn about to face shoreward; then, by holding the rudder (fortunately still attached to the boat by the uphaul line) and leaning right into the water astern, we were able to hold a course back to the shore. I since realised that the reason the rudder felt so heavy in the first place was because it was not engaged in its fixed down position but trailing horizontally behind; the extra leverage combined with the weight in the boat must have sheared the two mounting bolts. I’ve now repaired it with four new reinforcing bolts. It was a learning experience and exciting at the time. The others all seemed to enjoy it and seemed to think it was all in a day’s sailing adventures.
7th August 1998
Last weekend was wonderful. Summer finally seemed to have arrived: it was comfortable to spend dawn ‚til dusk in shorts and T shirt and to sit out late in the garden for dinner with a bottle of wine after the kids were in bed. Adam and I went onto the beach on Sunday and spent a good hour just splashing in the sea and being crabs and sea-monsters wallowing in the deep soft sand. Simple happiness!
More exciting still, I took the boat out twice. First, on West Kirby marine lake completely on my own for the very first time. I was out on the water by 7.30 a.m., it was a gorgeous morning and I had the whole lake and, indeed it seemed, the whole estuary to myself. Second, again on my own, on the high tide for the first time. Two significant achievements which have given me such a thrill that I can’t wait to do it again! In fact, I can now say that I have achieved my long held ambition of being able to sail my own boat on the sea, albeit in very easy conditions: a smooth surface and barely a breath of wind. I sailed for three hours on the high spring tide and was really chuffed to be out there on my own, but it would have been nice to have had some good company too. I feel this is only the beginning: my curiosity is already drawing me to peruse the second-hand yacht sections of the sailing magazines!
17th August 1998
I had my sailing abilities stretched this weekend when I took the boat out on the tide in a breeze that was slightly too strong for me (also my muscles and parts of the boat were well stretched). It was a humbling experience:
On the sea front, the breeze felt rather intimidating. The lifeguard on duty hailed me, having seen me with my boat the previous week,
"Going out today?"
I confided my reservations to him, but he replied, presumably intending to encourage me,
"Only way to learn, by experience!"
This was a challenge I felt bound to accept.
Having rigged and launched, all there was to do was push off and hop in. It was that moment of hesitation that reminded me of the feeling I had as a novice skier on the lip of my first black run: the point of no return. Hesitation over, the first few seconds I spent struggling to lower the rudder, which for some reason would not go down (because, I found out later, I’d hitched the uphaul too tight), while keeping an eye on other boats at their moorings skimming past me at an alarming rate even before I’d trimmed the sails. In the excitement, I forgot to lower the centreplate, which meant that having covered about half a mile in what seemed like about ten seconds I tried to come about into the wind but couldn’t. Hemmed in by a sand bank on one side and an approaching groyne on the other, there seemed to be little room to manoeuvre and all I could do was gybe, but this didn’t work properly either and I capsized. I realised the centreplate wasn’t down when I tried to stand on it to pull the boat back upright, it then took me a few moments to lower it because first I had to untangle the anchor warp from the centreplate uphaul, the two having become intertwined. The boat then righted quite easily and I tacked back against the wind with the water gurgling reassuringly out through the self-bailers; I was determined not to be defeated.
Eventually though, the jib became wrapped around the forestay and I capsized again trying to unwind it. At this point I felt I was doing everything wrong and it was time to come in so I limped back to the slip still half full of water where by now a small group of spectators had gathered to watch me, including the lifeguard and two old sea-dogs who’d obviously been passing comment. Later, the lifeguard told me that the old sea-dogs were "impressed" that I’d got back without assistance. But really I don’t suppose I impressed anyone much. I clearly have much to learn.
7th September 1998
I took Adam out in the boat on Saturday. There was almost no breeze: we seemed to spend long periods just playing with the sails trying to detect what little air movement there was. Adam had a go at the helm which quite thrilled him, and he even tacked. He was pretty good at holding a course when I told him to steer towards particular landmarks.
The dissipated remnants of hurricane Danielle have been lurking off the coast of Ireland these last few days and forecast to be moving across the British Isles; on Sunday the wind got up and there were gales forecast in the Irish Sea and I chickened out of going out on my own although several boats did sail on the high tide.
14th September 1998
Sunday was too windy for sailing. I’m going to have to experiment with techniques for reefing the sails, or sailing on the jib only.
18th September 1998
I saw a centre page pull-out guide in one of the yachting magazines this week entitled, "Your guide to crossing the Atlantic" – I dream.
9th October 1998
It’s been cool and windy here but with a lot of bright sunshine interrupted by occasional showers. The leaves are starting to thin on the trees and most of the apples are in, except the late ripening ones. I was hoping there might have been a chance to take the boat out, but the weather really wasn’t suitable. Most of the moored sailing boats are coming in onto dry land for the winter now.
I did get some useful clearing done in the garden and managed to build up our supply of fire-wood. Richard was following me behind the wheelbarrow and he managed to tumble into the pond!
It is simply beautiful being out in the garden. There is something very special about this time of year: the colours, the earthy smells and the sound of the wind in the trees.
20th October 1998
Autumn has set in a big way: chilly, grey and wet, and particularly dismal now that the nights are drawing in. Definitely time for the wood fire in doors. It was beautiful though in the garden on Sunday: I got a lot of clearing done and generated much material for bonfire night; also, I came across a hedgehog – not so rare in our garden but unusual in broad daylight and nice to see. Adam insisted I tell stories to him about hedgehogs for the rest of the day.
3rd November 1998
At 11 p.m. there was a 10 metre tide bursting on the sea wall with a strong northwesterly wind behind it and a full moon. I never saw such a high tide here. The sea was all over the road. I felt a strange, pleasant, almost terrified excitement because there is one recurring nightmare that I have occasionally had in adult life which involves standing on a foreshore and seeing the monster of all waves rising up and bearing towards me and the growing realisation that I won’t escape it in time.
Our bonfire party is tomorrow. As usual, a huge pile of wood has appeared as though by magic in the night, the local contractors see it as an opportunity for free rubbish disposal and it will take four of us half the day to built it into burnable shape tomorrow, but this is all part of the fun. Adam is looking forward to it and so am I.
2nd December 1998
We like too much where we live: our wonderful garden, horses over the fence, lying in bed listening to the waves on a summers night, the crashing surf of a winter storm, opening the door to the tangy smell of sea air in the morning, sunrise in a crispy dawn sparkling on frost-covered sand, and the pink rays of setting sun over the water glowing off the distant Welsh hills. It’s a clear, frosty night with a full moon. There’s a thin, misty vapour over the water as the tide silently slides past the sea wall and the oyster catchers make their eerie call – I love it!
26th April 1999
Out sailing again – first launch this year. Saturday was a beautiful day and I took Adam out on the high tide in the evening while the sun was lowering in the west. It was neap and there was virtually no wind – very still, we moved like a whisper. It was so still that we went aground (neap tides don’t leave much room to manoeuvre between sand banks) and didn’t even notice that we were stuck for about a minute! It was good to be on the water again.
28th April 1999
The sun is a great red orb above the horizon. The boat is all set for launching at the next available opportunity – this weekend. It is a long weekend with the May Day holiday and there are high spring tides around midday – perfect!
14th May 1999
Sailing has been wonderful! Especially yesterday, when conditions were perfect and I spent three hours exploring some of the far reaches of the sand-banks several miles up and down the coast. I’m looking for the best route across the shallows that will allow me to circumnavigate the islands in the mouth of the Dee estuary on a single high tide. The timing is important in order to avoid being left high an dry.
18th May 1999
Sailing is good exercise: strong on the back and arms hauling the trailer along the road to and from the slipway, and then on the tummy muscles when leaning out to balance the boat when it’s heeling over.
I had an embarrassing little incident two weeks ago in front of the lifeboat. It was a perfect day for sailing, sunny with a gentle breeze. I’d been out for about an hour and was starting to think about coming in for some lunch when I saw the Hoylake lifeboat coming past. This is a big, powerful, offshore boat with an experienced, sea-going crew. It pulled up close to our slipway, and the crew having passed some lines ashore set about some rescue exercises. Meanwhile, I thought I’d better make a good impression. I gave them a wide berth and tacked cleanly round to make my approach to the slipway in such a way as to avoid any risk of entanglement with their lines. Gliding in smoothly, I reached aft to raise the rudder to stop it grounding, but instead managed to pull the tiller off the rudder stock: the boat slewed round out of all control and, before I could do anything about it, heeled over wildly and capsized, right in front of the life-boat! What’s more, a crewman was recording the whole incident on video! I righted the boat without assistance and then sailed out again to allow the self-bailers to empty the boat of water to avoid the embarrassment of having to do so ashore. Afterwards, our local lifeguard, who was also there on duty, remarked that I couldn’t have chosen a better moment: the lifeboat only comes down here about once a year!
We’ve finally booked our holiday cottage for this summer: a house on the shores of Loch Torridon, way up in the north west of Scotland. I’m really looking forward to it. It is in one of the most beautiful parts of Scotland and a superb area for mountaineering. Everything is literally on the doorstep. There is access to the loch to launch the boat and the cottage lies at the very foot of one of the most spectacular mountains in Scotland, Liathach, the crest of which, soaring to 3,456ft directly above the sea, is considered to be one of the four classic ridge routes in the country. Of course, scope for serious mountaineering will be limited, but at least we will be four adults to share child minding. Unfortunately, the cottage was only available for one week and not two, but we plan to take the tent and tour for a few days after. I’m already really excited.
10th June 1999
Sailing, it is completely absorbing and I love it! This was my diary entry last weekend:
Onshore breeze, about force 3, which seems plenty strong enough for me single handed. The question arises how to launch at a right angle to the breeze with the sails up; hoisting the sails once afloat would be the better solution but with no means of holding the bow this could be awkward. I wheel the boat on the trolley half into the water then swing the trolley to head the boat into the wind, hoist the sails, rig the rudder, then manoeuvre the trolley so as to allow the boat to float, holding the bow. I’m glad Alix then turns up to retrieve the trolley. Which direction to cast off? Try to avoid the embarrassing and awkward situation of being blown back onto the sea wall before making way, but to make good way, must lower the plate and sheet-in immediately but can’t lower the plate until in deeper water. Conundrum. Oh well, try it. Here goes. Shove, hop in and grab tiller. Impetus of shove already gone, drifting back on shore into small party launching rowing boat; sheet-in sheet-in: yes! now 45 degrees to wind and making way, miraculously avoid sea wall. Rudder down, plate down – no, not enough depth for plate, grounding on sand bank; half raise plate, can’t tack, bear round with wind, avoid moored boats, must gybe – tricky in confined space, risk of capsize. Steady gybe by holding vang as boom swings across. Success! Now on course with clear water ahead.
It takes a few minutes of lively sailing to convince myself that I am really in control. The swell is slight but riding the waves is exciting as every other crest bursts on the bow, shooting spray up my bum leaning out over the windward gunwale. Shortly, the rhythmic plunge and rise through the waves works a very soothing effect, my senses become fully attuned to my immediate surroundings and all else seems a world away.
Hoylake Sailing Club Regatta, 15th June 1999
I actually took part in a race this weekend. The local sailing club held its annual regatta. While I was launching on Friday evening one of the officers of the club introduced himself and invited me to take part. It’s quite an event locally, with a lot of visiting boats from the region and open to non-members.
So there I was on the water on Sunday morning with only the vaguest notion of what was expected. I was confused by the order of buoys and posts that marked out the course, which ones to pass on which side and in which order. Then there was the gun. There were meant to be six minute and three minute warning shots but I’m sure there was an extra one, and on which side of the line was I supposed to be? At the last moment but too late it suddenly became clear and the start gun found me on the wrong side of the line going the wrong way! The other boats were racing towards the first buoy whilst I having recrossed the line lagged hopelessly in their wake. For a while I was able to follow them, but as the wind got up and the sea became grey and choppy the field spread out and even some of the more experienced boats appeared to become confused and eventually I had to admit that I really didn’t know where I was supposed to be heading! Oh well, I’ll know what to expect another time.
I appreciated the opportunity to make contact with the sailing club. They seem to be a friendly and pleasantly informal lot and I may consider joining, partly for access to their rather nice clubhouse with bar overlooking the sea, but partly also because it represents a chance to get to know people whose company I might enjoy and who share an enthusiasm for sailing. It is not a sporty, highly competitive dinghy racing club, although they do organise racing on some Sundays. I have the impression that the competitive aspects are not taken too seriously. It is more a group of people who enjoy sailing in all its forms, which suits me. The attractive clubhouse is an added bonus.
It was not a competitive streak that induced me to participate in the race on Sunday, but an exploratory streak to see how I might enjoy it, and a sense of curiosity to see how my sailing matched up to others. I realised that racing is a good way to hone one’s skills because I did a lot more manoeuvring and trying to maximise efficiency than when out on my own. I can see how racing could be enjoyable because it involves optimizing your performance, which can be thrilling and satisfying (and it would be nice to win sometimes too) but I can’t yet see myself wanting to race regularly. Like skiing, I see sailing as a means of exploration rather than a competitive sport.
Tuesday 6th July 1999
We were sailing on Sunday, all of us together for a change. Rick was very excited before he got in, then once underway he kept saying, "Tip over!" and looking worried, but he got used to it for before long he was scrambling to the stern to grab the tiller saying, "Have it, Ricky do it!" Meanwhile Adam was intent that I tell him a story about some limpets who make friends with some ammonites. I am learning that taking the kids out demands additional skills to normal sailing competence.
We’re soon away to Scotland for a fortnight. I actually bought myself a fishing rod and some tackle just in case the wind drops while out on the loch, as if I won’t have enough to occupy myself with a boat and kids and magnificent nearby mountains. It telescopes down to 18 inches so it won’t take up much space. I thought it might be fun for the kids too (good excuse, eh? Of course I’m just a big one.) I have fished exactly twice in my life and caught one trout about four inches long, so the family probably shouldn’t rely on me for food.
Torridon and Kishorn, July 1999
[Monday 2nd August 1999, back home.] It is hard to be back after such a lovely break. Tragic actually. I suddenly see all the things that are wrong with my life here and what an effort it is to try to force myself to put up with them. Especially I see how drab, ugly and over-crowded are the areas where I live and work, even our little patch on the coast holds no magic compared with the northwest of Scotland.
While we were away it was wonderful to be able to spend so much time continually with Richard and Adam and coming back I realize how unnatural it is for a parent to see so little of his children as I normally do here. I have no illusions that we have a right to a perfect life – there is no reason why working for a living should be easy – but some things need to change.
The northwest of Scotland would certainly have limitations as a place to live, the principal of which would be an acceptable means to make a living, followed by the distance to secondary schooling for the boys. Also, family visits would be much less frequent, the midges bite terribly and the weather would not be as reliably good as we had it at least in the second week. But as for the rest of it – city life – I don’t need it.
We spent the first week on the shores of Loch Torridon nestling at the foot of two of the principal mountains of the area. Torridon is rugged country – one of the last places in Britain to have glaciers as late as 9,000 BC – but like the whole west highland seaboard, sublimely beautiful. Other fjord-scape coastlines in the world are certainly more splendid, but Scotland has a special charm that appeals to me personally.
The peaks of Torridon rise straight out of the sea to over three thousand feet and are composed of thousand Myr old sandstone, which in the larger corries takes the form of shear, dark grey precipices of giant masonry blocks, and on the tops, precariously placed boulders like part-melted stacks of huge dinner plates. Many of the peaks are capped with silver-grey quarzite which when wet glints and sparkles in the sun. The whole is founded on much older bed-rock (up to half the age of the earth) which shows itself in places as contorted swirls of intermingled shades of pink, orange and fiery red streaked with white. The region has remnants of the original Caledonian pine forest still undisturbed after eight thousand years. But the principal charms are the play of cloud and light on the hills and sea, and the unhurried style of life, where people still leave their house doors unlocked when they go out.
We had a fair bit of drizzle and overcast days in the first week, during the course of which ours was the only boat we saw afloat in the whole of Upper Loch Torridon. In fact, one afternoon, Martin and I were sitting in the boat in the middle of the loch, with the clouds low on the hills and the rain dribbling down the sails, awaiting any movement of air that might get us back to shore before tea, and I did start to wonder what it might take before I started to question my enjoyment!
Another day Martin and I thought we’d make the most of any time when the breeze died by trying my new fishing rod and three hundred piece fishing kit. Out on the water, the sails lolling impotenty, I gave Martin charge of the helm, should any light air arise to stir us, while I sorted hooks and fiddled, trying to remember how to tie them to the line. All of a sudden, there were ripples on the water, the sails filled, the boat heeled wildly and we were creating a creaming bow wave, covering the distance across the loch in a couple of minutes that it had taken us a whole afternoon the previous day, while I scrabbled to prevent fish hooks from littering the floor around our bare feet and at the same time tried to give instruction to Martin who’d never helmed a dinghy!
Come the weekend, the clouds evaporated and there followed six days of glorious hot weather when we were out everyday in T-shirts and shorts, even on the water and up at 3,000ft late into the evening – very unScottish! We found accommodation slightly farther south, with magnificent views from our living room window up into the majestic corries of Applecross and out to Skye, in a secluded bungalow just outside the small village of Achintraid on the shore of Loch Kishorn. Alix, Adam, Rick and I spent a couple of days of idyllic sailing when we were out for the whole day with picnic and cans of beer, mooring on uninhabited islands and remote beaches for long lunches, lounging in the sun, exploring the rock-pools for crabs and sea-anemones and swimming nude (there simply was no need for swimming costumes because no one was there!), although not for many minutes because the water was chilly. I love to abandon the trappings of civilization as much as possible on holiday – radio and television, swimming trunks, combing my hair, etc. I go happily for days washing and bathing only in salt-water with my hair gone wild, I like the feeling of it.
The Highlands can be extremely bleak and dreary ("driech" in the Scotch dialect) but only in some places and in certain weather. The atmosphere is often fresh and invigorating or imbued with a remarkable softness. Part of the beauty is this softness and the wonderful cloud-scapes. During our hot weather spell, although I wouldn’t have wanted to change it, some of the distinctive charm was lost: it reminded me more of the Alps or the Sierra Nevada than Scotland.
I think we’ve all felt slightly down since returning, we had such a gorgeous few days. Sailing off the sea front here in Liverpool Bay has (at least temporarily) lost its appeal.
Sunday 19th March 2000
First launch of the year. It was wonderful to be on the water again! It is something very special to me. On the water, I am happy: life is as it should be and I don’t want for anything. I was out at 8:30 a.m. for nearly three hours, and there was no one else.
28th March 2000
We switched to British Summer Time this weekend and today the temperature has dropped to 3°C – it feels like January again! I did get out in the boat though, both on Saturday and Sunday. Good thing is, the kids have not adapted to the time change yet, so we get to sleep slightly later, but I wonder how long it’ll take for them to catch on.
Sunday 2nd April 2000
Hoylake Sailing Club first dinghy race of the season.
It rained the whole weekend: a pretty much continuous light sea-drizzle which hardly let up even once. Alix took advantage of child-minding by parents and agreed to join me in the boat on Sunday (rare that we are ever in the boat together). At 9 a.m. there was a sea mist and hardly a breath of wind, and we really wondered whether we were silly, sitting bailing the rain out from where it collected from dribbling down the sails as fast as it came in, and feeling the wetness slowly creeping in down our necks. At the starter’s gun, the few other boats all managed magically to coax some movement out of the still air, while it took a good two minutes before we managed first to point in the right direction then get underway, bringing up the rear. It was all quite amusing really, and in the end we were glad we’d made the effort to go out. Afterwards, all of us including the boys went into the clubhouse for a drink, then returned home for proper Sunday lunch of roast lamb, a good bottle of Rioja and an afternoon cozily by the living room fire. A near perfect Sunday.
Hoylake Sailing Club Regatta, Saturday 3rd and Sunday 4th June 2000
There were around 70 boats racing offshore, so quite a spectacle. I didn’t race. I’m not convinced that racing is where my interest lies, I simply like to be out on the water and go where the whim takes me rather than jostle with other craft around buoys. The lifeguard introduced me to Billy who offered to take me out in Magnetic, his Cygnet cruising yacht. We walked out over the sand to his mooring in the outer channel. The tide comes up here with a rush; it is impressive like a fast flowing river, one minute you’re lying aground and the next you’re bobbing around floating free. It was interesting for a change and novel to be able to brew tea en route in the cabin, but it struck me how sluggish and how restricted in manoeuvring over the sand banks is a boat like Magnetic compared to my dinghy, so on Sunday I was happy to be back under my own sail.
Alix took the boys to the Millennium Dome in Greenwich at the weekend. It has been billed as a festival of Britain to match the great ones of the past but has had bad press and accusations of waste of public money. Alix thought it was accurate in presenting an impression of the state of Britain today in that it was confused and didn’t seem to know what it was trying to be, and it had an abundance of what this country is famous for abroad: its queues.
12th June 2000
I’m considering an over-night sailing and camping expedition to Hilbre. The tides were right this weekend but the winds were too fierce for me, force 4 – 5 the whole time, and I didn’t get out in the boat at all (I feel deprived). Beautiful sunny weather for the garden though; however, I had to use some of it on afternoon naps as, first Adam, then Richard, were sick during the night and left us very short of sleep.
16th June 2000
I went out on Tuesday evening just after I got home and it was gorgeous in the late light, sailing into the sunset. There was a significant breeze and I was even surfing in on some waves. This weekend the weather looks set lovely and, wind permitting, tomorrow we will all go out and perhaps anchor somewhere for a picnic.
19th June 2000
We are enjoying a heat wave; that is, I am enjoying it, but many are not. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the inner cities reached 90°F this weekend. We have a south wind, but plenty of breeze on the coast to be bearable. We all sailed on Sunday, cruising out to the far edge of the sandbank (about a mile offshore) where we beached, ate picnic lunch and had a swim; it is good to have a break to provide variety for Adam and Richard, otherwise they get restless just having to sit. After we returned, we all went to the beach again (with swimming costumes this time) to cool off while the tide was still up to swim in. Adam and Richard loved it. Later Alix and I were eating dinner on the lawn until 10 p.m. I love weekends like this and count it a great privilege to have the wonderful sea on the doorstep. Being back at work is definitely dull by comparison, but it is what I am paid for.
Monday 26th June 2000
We are in the 70s today, warmer than at the weekend with its brisk northwesterly breeze – too windy for sailing, unfortunately, which we’d been looking forward to as Alix’ sister and family were here to visit. We were a bit downcast from sadness that our visitors had to leave. The kids were so excited the whole time to have each other as playmates and they were all devastated when they had to part. They all shared the same bedroom and around seven each morning we heard the "gentle" patter of feet as they trooped down stairs, trying to be quiet but not quite succeeding, to organize their own breakfast before any of the adults appeared. On Sunday morning they even let themselves out of the house to play in the garden and in the lane before we got up – two of them still half in their night-clothes! And Adam was revelling in showing them around his home territory.
Sunday 30th July 2000
It’s been a good weekend for sailing. Thursday evening was looking gorgeous and Adam decided to come with me (partly I suspect as a means of delaying his bed-time); unfortunately shortly after we launched some grey clouds coalesced above and released persistent rain for an hour. Friday really was gorgeous though: what little rain there was had cleared during the course of the day leaving a few fantastic cloud shapes and sparkling sunshine. I was the only boat out and I sailed until just after sunset in only my shorts and T-shirt. The breeze was very light and at one point I let myself hang backwards over the side with my hair almost dabbling in the water becoming almost dizzy from the huge upside down vista of red orb sun and pink tinted clouds gliding passed at water’s-eye view. It was very pleasurable.
This morning Richard and I went out together. First time I’ve taken Richard alone. He was very good (in doing what he was told when told) and seemed really to enjoy and remain interested for the whole of nearly two hours that we were out (in perfect summer weather). He caused some amusement upon landing when he insisted in helping me by pushing the boat from behind with all his might up the slipway!
Saturday 5th August 2000
We are leaving for the Isle of Bute next Saturday and I feel there is a lot to rush to do before we go. Preparations for holidays these days are no longer a simple matter of organizing a rucksack on my back, boots on my feet and money in my pocket. There’s the boat trailer to load – do the lights work? – need a new registration number plate to match the new car, grease the wheel bearings, where are all the straps and cords I used last year? Adam, Rick, where have you hidden xyz since I last saw you playing with it? Where are all the tent pegs? Does the camping stove work? etc. Alix tends to organise food and kids‘ clothes, which is a relief. All I’ve done is had a case of wine sent to the friends we’re staying with for the first week (definitely essential provisions). I try to tell myself that this is a holiday and we’re supposed to enjoy it, but I know I’ve worn myself down because I’ve succumbed to respiratory infection and my back is playing up (doesn’t help to have to lift the boat trailer). None of this stopped us all going out sailing today though. We pottered along the shore to Leasowe beach and landed for the kids to build sand castles for half an hour (they like the break), then headed home before the tide went out. We saw lots of birds and a couple of very brightly coloured jelly fish.
Wednesday 9th August 2000
The boat and equipment is now loaded for the road and ready to go as soon as we can get out on Saturday morning. I avoid the check-list syndrome as much as possible and usually get by with a single pencilled sheet of paper scribbled a week in advance; I do what I consider necessary to avoid wasting time when we are actually away. High tide is about an hour before sunset and there is light air movement: if I feel I’ve worked well by the end of the day I’d be tempted to go out, although I’m not sure I want to face all the unloading and reloading again!
Isle of Bute and Argyll, August 2000
Our holiday was really wonderful. August Scottish weather again proved remarkably fine. There were only two days in nearly a fortnight when rain deterred us from doing what we had planned, and we had several magnificent days. Of our eleven days spent actually in Scotland, we sailed on six of them.
We enjoyed our time on the Isle of Bute spent with a long-standing friend David in his parental house. His parents are now dead but his sister lives there still. David lives in Switzerland, but returns every couple of years to supervise (and pay for) necessary structural upkeep as it is a large, rambling Victorian property. He generally invites a house-full of friends for the duration, which makes for a lively week – ideal for the kids, because there are other kids to play with, and for the adults too, who have the stimulus of each other’s company.
The island is relatively close to Glasgow but, on its western shore particularly, it is quiet and has much of the character of more remote Hebridean islands. We had some fine sailing off the beaches in magnificent scenery and crystal-clear water. I also took some of the other guests out – I enjoy sharing their pleasure in it.
For the second week we moved farther westward and found a delightful camp spot on the shore of Loch Sween. It was a perfect, level, grassy platform a few yards above the shore, facing the sunsets. We had words with the local farmer who let us stay there and gave us access to a water tap, and who also offered to launch our boat from their adjacent field, enabling us to keep it moored right below the tent. We actually used two tents on this trip, letting Adam and Richard share the small backpacking tent together, which they enjoyed, thus leaving us some peace and privacy in the larger dome tent. It was very close to idyllic: we were completely secluded, I was able to read The Hobbit to Adam snuggled up to the campfire for his bedtime story, and we were very little harassed by midges, which is unusual for the Scottish west coast in August.
Upon arrival, it had been a hectic day travelling in the car, the kids had been fractious and were finally in bed, it was a beautifully placid evening with perhaps half an hour left of sun before sinking behind the hills, and I took the boat out. Ghosting along the middle of the loch with barely a whisper, making myself comfortable with my head resting on the thwart staring backwards up at the sky, I was so absorbed that I turned with a start when I suddenly realized I’d nearly bumped into an island full of seals! About a dozen of them on a craggy rock, about twenty yards long and four wide, breaking the surface of the water by about three feet. The rock was actually marked on the 1:50,000 map as a small blip but I hadn’d noticed it. It lay only about 500yd offshore from where we were camped, so we all returned there together in the morning for a closer look. There were several pups among them looking very cute.
Our nearest shop was 4 miles away by boat up the loch at Tayvallich on the opposite shore, but a 20 mile trip around by car, so we experienced the novelty of a family grocery shopping expedition by sail, making a fine day trip, with a good sea-food pub dinner thrown in.
Kilmartin Glen, not far away, is a centre for some of the earliest known settlements in Scotland, so on non-sailing days there were five thousand year old stone circles, burial sites, iron age fortresses, and also near by, tiny ruined churches dating back to the early Roman missionaries of the 6thC AD, some with original 12thC stone carvings still intact, as well as Castle Sween to explore. But I must say that I loved the sailing most: exploring the little islands, anchorages and unfamiliar harbour entrances. It is completely absorbing, demanding a wonderful combination of attention to physical coordination and judgment. That is what I find immensely satisfying about mountaineering too: this combination of physical challenges together with the continual need for reassessment of the situation in the light of one’s knowledge of one’s own abilities and of the objective dangers.
Tuesday 29th August 2000
I picked up a book from the library recently about how to build a wood and canvas kayak. I am wondering whether I could sustain the motivation and determination for such a project. This came after casually browsing for some information on glass fibre boat repairs: the boat could benefit from a little attention this year. I would like to paint her name on the hull. The word Esmerelda is just discernible written large on the side but so faded as to be almost invisible except in certain light. I’m still in two minds as to whether to call her this or Come What May, which refers to a remark made in conjuction with a decision to sail one day. To me, Esmerelda is the name of an elderly lady, and as time goes by I realize that she deserves the according level of respect.
Brother Martin and family came over the bank holiday and we sailed. Then today Adam and I happened to get the perfect combination of clear sunshine, fine breeze and high spring tide that allowed us to cross the sandbank and circumnavigate Hilbre, a feat that has been my aim since the beginning of the season, but from which I had been deterred either by too much or too little wind or insufficient tide. We spotted a dozen seals on the way, a pair of which followed us at close quarters for up to half a mile (Adam was thrilled).
Wednesday 13th September 2000
This day I was at home working, ostensibly, but there was mild, balmy sunshine and sufficient breeze to tempt me out onto the tide at midday. It was gorgeous and I made good way into the gentle south westerly air, ploshing pleasantly through the wavelets. Out of the distance, suggesting itself as a destination, appeared the HE2 East cardinal buoy that marks the east side of the West Hoyle Bank, beckoning me like a siren to go farther offshore than I have ever been, two and half miles out from the mouth of the Dee estuary. I decided I ought to be able to round it and return with the breeze behind me in time to cross the bank before the tide receded.
It was eerie being alone and so far out, with the buoy and its apparently resident population of perched seagulls on its large scaffold superstructure behung with lights, bells and other navigational symbols; the boat seemed small and fragile compared to its robust iron bulk.
On the way back the breeze became lighter. A seal investigated me closely, surfacing and blowing noisily just off the stern and rolling tummy-up as if to get a better look. Shortly afterwards the wind died.
I tried with the oars to get as far as possible, and then towed and hauled on the painter as the ebbing tide left me with barely enough depth to cover my ankles, but eventually had to deploy the anchors, abandon my vessel and walk home, some fifteen minutes back to Hoylake promenade.
Next high tide was not until midnight so I would have to walk out and wait for the flood two hours before, then row back in the dark. My main concern was to locate the boat on the vast expanse of sand in darkness; I had taken a compass bearing and, fortunately, noticed that the iron railings on the promenade caused the needle to deviate by about 30°!
Come What May / Esmerelda finally appeared as a ghostly white shadow in the torch beam. Waiting on board for the tide was a quietly serene experience, reclining quite comfortably in my 8mm wet suit in a slight drizzle. It was rather beautiful: wet but warm in the dark, with the night full of the sounds of oyster catchers and imagining the gurgling trickle of advancing water becoming louder by the minute, and a hint of moonlight behind the clouds.
20th September 2000
The season is distinctly about to slide into autumn. The apples have reached full ripeness and are starting to drop, and there are widespread hints of leaves starting to turn colour. The sunshine is warm during the day, but last night the temperature dropped nearly to 50°F for the first time probably in months. With the shorter days, the number of high tides potentially suitable for sailing becomes restricted; that combined with the higher probability of poor weather means sailing will be sporadic (I’ve been out only twice this month). But I love this season.
22nd November 2000
I’m enthralled with a book at the moment. It is a description of three seasons spent sailing up the eastern seaboard of North America, from Florida to the St. Lawrence, in a 16ft Wayfarer dinghy by Frank Dye. It is about exploration by sail stripped to its bare essentials, the idea of which appeals to me enormously, and is exactly the sort of sailing I’d love to do on this coast, although without some of the author’s more hairy adventures. Among other things, he has opened my eyes to what an enormous and varied coast North America has – like distances on the land, the size of the coastline is difficult to conceive compared to this country.
memories of 2002
Image by brizzle born and bred
The aura of terrorist assaults loomed large in 2002 with deadly attacks in Bali, Moscow and the Middle East. Meanwhile, the U.S. hunted al Qaeda in Afghan caves, prepared to face off Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein and fended off snipers around its capital — all as the dust continued to settle from the catastrophic events of September 11, which marked its one-year anniversary.
More than three weeks of terror culminated October 24 with the early morning arrest of two men at a Maryland rest stop, ending a wave of sniper attacks that turned suburban gas stations and strip malls near the nation’s capital into hunting grounds. Authorities say John Allen Muhammad, a Gulf War veteran, and John Lee Malvo, a 17-year-old from Jamaica, shot and killed 10 victims and wounded three others in Maryland, Virginia and Washington, D.C. Authorities later linked the pair to earlier shootings in Atlanta, Georgia; Montgomery, Alabama; and Baton Rouge, Louisiana.
The year 2002 was the one in which the United States gave the United Nations a chance to avoid a war. But as the year ended it seemed that the UN’s chance was disappearing. On 19 December the United States declared Iraq in "material breach" of Security Council resolution 1441 and war loomed early in the new year. Mr Bush chose the UN route. Many had thought that President Bush would not turn to the United Nations. But he did.
On 7 December, a day before the deadline, Iraq produced its declaration, in which it denied having any nuclear, chemical or biological weapons. But the United States and Britain said that the declaration was not good enough. It failed to explain, they said, what had happened to prohibited chemical and biological agents previously unaccounted for.
For many Russians the abiding and dark memories of the year will be, the shocking images of the Moscow theatre siege. Few in the Russian capital will ever forget the shocking images of the Moscow theatre siege – the masked Chechen gunmen, wielding Kalashnikovs and hand grenades. Their female accomplices were almost more terrifying, covered from head to foot in black, their veils bearing Islamic slogans, their waists wrapped with belts full of explosives. And for ordinary Muscovites today, there is definitely a sense of looking around more carefully, a slight feeling of uneasiness when in a crowded public place – a scar on the city’s psyche that will take some time to heal.
A look back at the major UK stories of 2002. In the Queen’s Golden Jubilee year, the Royal Family suffers two bereavements. Two UK government ministers quit and the prime minister’s wife is forced to explain her dealings with a convicted fraudster.
On 10 December, a tearful Cherie Blair apologises for the embarrassment she caused in buying flats in Bristol with the help of convicted fraudster Peter Foster. The statement fails to halt the media storm surrounding the controversy.
On 13 November, the first national firefighters‘ strike for 25 years begins with troops attending hundreds of call-outs within hours. The 48-day strike over pay is followed by another eight day walkout, before the industrial action is halted ahead of renewed negotiations.
On 10 May, a train ploughs off the tracks at Potters Bar station, Hertfordshire, killing seven people and injuring 70 more on the train and the platform. A decision on a public inquiry into the crash is not due to be made before spring 2003.
It’s a funny old game!
The Queen experienced hers a couple of years back, but 2002 was truly David Seaman’s annus horribilus. England’s ’number one‘ had more balls over his head than a juggling troupe – and even a trim of his famous pony-tail failed to do the trick. Seaman’s only saving grace came courtesy of his daughter’s obsession with Teletubbies, which prevented him seeing the constant replays of that free kick.
Manchester United misfit Juan Veron was another who admitted to a Tubby fixation – although Laa-Laa and Tinky Winky probably make more sense than a Fergie team talk. Unlike Veron, Ronaldo enjoyed a glorious World Cup – even if he didn’t manage to score off the pitch. A 40-day nookie ban for the Brazilian players worked wonders, with the buck-toothed boy gleefully announcing after the final that he would "be having sex in a few moments".
Ronaldo didn’t do so well on the haircut front, his bizarre triangle creation vying with David Beckham’s dead chicken and Christian Ziege’s landing strip for football’s worst barnet. Thank God for David Seaman, they chorused.
Elsewhere, an excited dairy farmer named one of his herd Beckham. Still, no more ridiculous than calling your second-born Romeo. Meanwhile, in the land of the suits, Keith Harris left the FA (Orville is tipped to return as chief executive) – and the good people of Hartlepool elected the football club’s monkey mascot H’Angus as mayor.
Thankfully the Commonwealth Games raised a titter, in the shape of intrepid Kenyan cyclists George and Arthur – who went for a practice ride on the M61.
Luckily, they came away unharmed – which is more than can be said for Seaman.
What’s on TV ?
Reality TV dominated the tabloids and ITV digital went bust but 2002 also brought us 24, Six Feet Under, Tipping the Velvet, the Great Britons debate and… primetime Bargain Hunt. As soon as we were out of Christmas 2001 the TV brought us what can only be described as an eclectic mix. New BBC chat show Johnny Vaughan Tonight started off as a clone of America’s David Letterman on BBC One and BBC Choice. A new series of Sex In The City continued to be a hit on Channel 4 but Big Train, the daft sketch show on BBC Two, has been almost forgotten.
ITV1’s Pop Idol reached its big final in February after what seemed like six months. The BBC launched an awful lot of TV and radio channels in 2002 and in February the big news was CBBC and Cbeebies, while March brought BBC Four – a conscious attempt to mimic BBC Radio 4, which almost killed off digital satellite channel Artsworld.
Ted and Alice on BBC One was a peculiar mix of romance and science fiction that escaped most but made fans of many.
Initially much more successful, though it did tail off, was ITV1’s The Forsyte Saga. Channel 5 grabbed all the ex-Top Gear staff for Fifth Gear while the BBC finally brought us The Falklands Play, shown 15 years after it was first commissioned. Reality TV continued with The Edwardian Country House on Channel 4.
Channel 4 also gave us the tremendous The Book Group comedy and the series that reassembled the original cast of Auf Wiedersehen Pet was a hit for BBC One.
April was also the month that Rise started on Channel 4 – and flopped, although access to the Big Brother 3 contestants from May gave it a short-lived boost. ITV Digital viewers were not so happy that month as their screens went blank. Channel 4 gambled that V Graham Norton could work five nights a week – and it did. Frasier ran its so-so reunion of the Cheers cast on the same channel while BBC One measured our IQ in Test the Nation.
Ant and Dec starred in A Tribute To The Likely Lads on ITV1 but only managed to mimic the original. Hot real time US thriller 24 continued to stop our hearts on BBC Two. All through the summer The West Wing continued to be tremendous and was joined on Channel 4 by Six Feet Under, the instant-hit cult US drama.
In July, James Bolam was chilling in ITV1’s Shipman, but the drama itself was surprisingly limp. Comedian Peter Kay’s second run of Phoenix Nights on Channel 4 was a hit in August. BBC One had the luck to have finished Ella and the Mothers – about IVF – as news of an IVF mix-up broke.
Daytime hit Bargain Hunt moved to prime-time on BBC One but the move went to its head and the result was surprisingly dire.
ITV1’s I’m a Celebrity – Get Me Out of Here had an unwieldy title but, although modelled on the Survivor reality TV format, at least did not have the word "survivor" in it. Nobody expected a celebrity version to do well, but it did. Documentaries on all channels marked the anniversary of the World Trade Centre destruction throughout a sombre September. The BBC’s revamped The Saturday Show was relaunched yet again but apart from new presenters and a Saturday Top of the Pops, it looked the same. Channel 5 became Five.
Partly to escape watching ITV1’s Popstars: The Rivals, 12 people managed to get into BBC One’s Fame Academy and for a while in October it looked like only their families were watching the show.
Michael Palin darted around the Sahara very quickly for the BBC, while the audience for Fame Academy grew very slowly. Ratings for The Office boomed for its second run on BBC Two and nosedived for Mr Right on ITV1, both entirely on merit.
BBC Two protested that Tipping the Velvet was not lewd but more people cared about its Great Britons poll – and Freeview, the replacement for ITV Digital, started at the end of the month. Months after it appeared here on MTV, The Osbournes became a hit on Channel 4 in November.
But a much greater hit for the channel was Jamie’s Kitchen, while we also saw Dead Ringers become a TV series, The Life of Mammals and Celebrity Big Brother. BBC and ITV pulled back from direct competition and gave us Daniel Deronda and Dr Zhivago on different nights.
Almost no-one watched BBC One’s The Project about New Labour, but it was good. Amazingly, BBC Two’s I’m Alan Partridge was not. Fame Academy finally became a hit in December, if not in ratings then at least critically, as showdowns saw some great characters like Ainslie and Malachi depart. More quietly, C4 began music show Born Sloppy and admitted Rise needed surgery as it dropped presenters.
BBC Two’s Wit ended the year with a marvellous performance by Emma Thompson as a cancer victim.
A Golden Jubilee tinged with sadness
It will be remembered as the year of two funerals and a jubilee and for the strange saga of the Crown v Burrell the butler. It was a year when the critics of monarchy were confounded by the public’s commitment to the institution, and the supporters of monarchy confused by a court case and the ripples which flowed from it. In the early weeks of 2002 there were widespread predictions that the Golden Jubilee was going to be a wholesale flop.
Those who offered such an analysis either ignored or were ignorant of the fact that precisely the same sort of predictions had been made in the early months of the Silver Jubilee year of 1977. On that occasion Britain was in the grip of a major financial crisis and, it was suggested, no-one would have the time, money or inclination for something as frivolous as a jubilee. But as spring gave way to summer the crowds came out. It happened in 2002 in much the same way as it did in 1977. Of course there were differences. Britain is different. Our attitude to the monarchy is different.
It would be strange if that wasn’t the case and, frankly, inconceivable after the turbulent times the royal family has put itself through in recent years. But what we witnessed in the early part of 2002 seemed to be the response of a country which remains essentially monarchist by instinct or, at the very least, which remains respectful of and grateful to this particular monarch for the qualities which she has embodied for the past 50 years.
Without question the death of the Queen’s younger sister, Princess Margaret, in February and – most especially – the death just seven weeks later of her mother helped to crystallise Britain’s feelings about its monarchy. Emotions which had, to an extent, lain dormant in recent years were re-kindled. The Queen Mother was in her 102nd year when she passed away on the Saturday of the Easter weekend. It was not unexpected, but for many it was still a shock. And despite her "eccentricities" (she was extravagant with cash and champagne, suspicious of change and had a view of the world rooted in the days of the British Empire) she represented those facets of the monarchy which a great many Britons still cherish. The most important of these is the ability to connect a country with its past history.
And so it was perhaps not so surprising that so many people made the journey to Westminster Hall and waited for so many hours in the cold to pay their respects at her coffin. It was – as many noted at the time – her final, perfectly timed gesture of support to the family she had joined nearly 80 years earlier.
Suddenly, it seemed, Britain had re-discovered its affinity with the royals, and there – a few weeks later – was another elderly, silver haired lady beginning her Golden Jubilee tour of Britain and symbolising precisely the same qualities of continuity and dutifulness. The crowds came out in the fishing communities of the south west; the former pit villages of the north east and in many of the big towns and cities across the United Kingdom (though it must be said that Glasgow and Edinburgh seemed a little half-hearted).
There were parties, pageants, concerts and services of thanksgiving. And to cap it all a million people gathered on the Mall to wave their flags and cheer as the Queen and her family made one of the most triumphant balcony appearances of her reign.
It seemed that the monarchy had finally put the bad times behind it. It was even being suggested that the Queen was coming round to the idea of Mrs Camilla Parker Bowles as a possible future daughter-in-law. But then came the case of Regina v Burrell and one of the most bizarre trials to have been played out in the Number One court of the Old Bailey. It ended with a spectacular example of Queen’s evidence and a welter of questions and suspicions.
Mr Burrell, the former butler to Diana Princess of Wales, was cleared of theft and exonerated. The royal family wasn’t so fortunate. The trial has re-kindled an impression of an institution which is beset with problems (most of which, it must be said, are focused on St James‘ Palace) and which, once again, is being buffeted by hostile waters.
Soham’s summer of sorrow
Until this year, few people in Britain had even heard of Soham. This small community in the fens of Cambridgeshire had never before been the focus of such intense news coverage. All that changed on a summer’s evening, when two schoolgirls went out for a walk and never returned home.
In the following days, Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman became the focus of a nation’s anxiety. The image of the two friends, wearing their matching David Beckham football shirts, burned into people’s minds as they followed the desperate search. The photograph was all the more poignant because it had been taken just minutes before they disappeared. At first there were hopes that the girls had simply wandered off, perhaps to meet someone, and would turn up safe and well. But in everyone’s mind was the possibility – the probability – that they had been abducted.
Cases of children being snatched off the street are still mercifully rare, and consequently make headlines. But the disappearance of two girls, together, was unprecedented. The intensity of the media coverage only increased the sense of foreboding.
Thirteen days after Holly and Jessica vanished, the worst fears of their parents, the police and the public were realised. The bodies of the two girls were discovered in a ditch at Lakenheath, in the neighbouring county of Suffolk, just eight miles from their homes. An inquest was told they had died somewhere else, before being taken there. Further details will only be revealed when the man accused of their murder goes on trial at the Old Bailey. Ian Huntley, who is 28 and a former caretaker, has been examined by a psychiatrist who declared him fit to stand trial.
His 25-year-old girlfriend, Maxine Carr, a former teaching assistant, is charged with attempting to pervert the course of justice.
January – Ford unveils its all-new Fiesta supermini, which is due on sale in March. It is announced that a record of 2,450,000 new cars were sold during 2001, breaking the previous record set in 1989. The Ford Focus was Britain’s best selling car for the third year running.
14 January – The end of the Foot and Mouth crisis is declared after 11 months.
8–24 February – Great Britain competes at the Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City, Utah, United States, and wins 1 gold and 1 bronze medal.
9 February – Princess Margaret, the Queen’s younger sister, dies after suffering a stroke at the age of 71.
15 February – Funeral of Princess Margaret takes place at St. George’s Chapel, Windsor.
18 February – Thoburn v Sunderland City Council decided.
19 February – Ford ends 90 years of British car production with the loss of more than 2,000 jobs after the last Fiesta was made at its factory in Dagenham. However, the plant will be retained for the production of engines and gearboxes, and Ford will continue to make commercial vehicles at its plant in Southampton.
20 February – Andrew Aston, a 29-year-old Birmingham cocaine addict, is sentenced to 26 concurrent terms of Life imprisonment – officially the longest prison sentence imposed on any criminal in England and Wales – for murdering two elderly people in robberies and attacking 24 others.
27 February – Ryanair Flight 296 catches fire at London Stansted Airport.
March – Vauxhall unveils the all-new Vectra family car, which is due on sale in Summer.
11 March – BBC 6 Music, the first new BBC Radio station in decades, is launched.
21 March – Amanda Dowler, 13, goes missing on her way home from school in Surrey.
22 March – A woman known as "Miss B", who was left quadriplegic last year as a result of a burst blood vessel in her neck, is granted the right to die by the High Court.
29 March – Coal mining in Scotland, which has a history stretching back more than 800 years, comes to an end with the closure of Longannet coal mine in Fife after it floods and the owners go into liquidation, putting more than 500 people out of work.
30 March – Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother, dies aged 101 at Royal Lodge, Windsor.
4 April – Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother’s funeral procession from the Chapel Royal at St James’s Palace to Westminster Hall to lie in state.
9 April – Funeral of Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother takes place at Westminster Abbey, London. The burial takes place at St. George’s Chapel, Windsor.
23 April – A badly decomposed female body is found in the River Thames; it is feared to be that of Amanda Dowler.
24 April – The body found in the River Thames is identified as that of 73-year-old Mrs Maisie Thomas, who was last seen alive near her home in Shepperton just over a year ago and whose death is not believed to be suspicious.
25 April – Two 16-year-old twin brothers are cleared of murdering 10-year-old Damilola Taylor, who was stabbed to death in South London 17 months ago.
29 April – As part of her Golden Jubilee celebrations, the Queen dines at 10 Downing Street with the five living prime ministers who have served under her; Tony Blair, John Major, Margaret Thatcher, James Callaghan and Edward Heath. She is also joined by several relatives of deceased former prime ministers, including Clarissa Eden, Countess of Avon, widow of prime minister Anthony Eden.
1 May – Airdrieonians, of the Scottish Football League Division One, go into liquidation with debts of £3million. They are the first Scottish senior side to go out of business for 35 years.
4 May – Arsenal win the FA Cup with a 2–0 win over London rivals Chelsea in the final.
8 May – Arsenal win their second double in five seasons (and the third in their history) after a 1–0 away win over defending champions Manchester United.
10 May – Potters Bar rail crash in Hertfordshire kills 7 people.
£5million-rated striker Marlon King, of Gillingham F.C., is jailed for 18 months after being found guilty of handling a stolen £32,000 car.
24 May – Falkirk Wheel boat lift opens in Scotland, also marking reopening of the Union Canal for leisure traffic.
27 May – Former leader of the Liberal Democrats Paddy Ashdown appointed as the international community’s High Representative for Bosnia and Herzegovina.
28 May – Stephen Byers resigns as Secretary of State for Transport.
2 June – The England national football team’s World Cup campaign, hosted jointly by Japan and South Korea, begins with a 1–1 draw against Sweden.
3 June – The "Party in the Palace" takes place at Buckingham Palace, London for The Queen’s Golden Jubilee celebrations.
4 June – The Queen and The Duke of Edinburgh ride in the gold state coach from Buckingham Palace to St Paul’s Cathedral for a special service marking the Queen’s 50 years on the throne. In New York, the Empire State Building is lit in purple for her honour.
7 June – England beat Argentina 1-0 in their second World Cup group game, with the only goal of the game being scored by captain David Beckham.
10 June – First direct electronic communication experiment between the nervous systems of two humans carried out by Kevin Warwick in the University of Reading.
12 June – England qualify for the knockout stages of the World Cup despite only managing a goalless draw against Nigeria.
15 June – England beat Denmark 3-0 in the World Cup second round and reach the quarter-finals for the first time since 1990. Ironically, the far-right British National Party had declared its support for all-white Denmark before the World Cup due to the England team featuring black players.
21 June – England’s hopes of winning the World Cup are ended by a 2–1 defeat to Brazil in the quarter-finals.
25 June – Jason Gifford (27) is shot dead by armed police in Aylesbury after brandishing a shotgun and a machete in a residential street.
July – London City Hall is opened on the south bank of the River Thames, designed by Norman Foster.
1 July – Rochdale Canal, crossing the Pennines, reopened throughout for leisure traffic.
3 July – Decapitation of a statue of Margaret Thatcher: a man decapitates a statue of the former Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher on display at the Guildhall Art Gallery in London.
5 July – The Imperial War Museum North in Manchester, designed by Daniel Libeskind, opens.
8 July – John Taylor, a 46-year-old parcel delivery worker from Bramley in Leeds, is sentenced to life imprisonment for the murder of 16-year-old Leanne Tiernan. Leanne was last seen alive in the city centre on 26 November 2000 and her body was found in the Yorkshire countryside nine months later. Police believed that Taylor may have been responsible for other unsolved sex attacks and murders in the Yorkshire area, and the trial judge has warned Taylor to expect to spend the rest of his life in prison.
9 July – Clydebank F.C. of the Scottish Football League Second Division become defunct after a takeover by the owners of the new Airdrie United club, who take their place in the Scottish league and continue the tradition of senior football in the town of Airdrie following the recent demise of Airdrieonians, whose stadium they will play at.
12 July – Ribble Link waterway opened for leisure traffic.
13 July – Baltic Centre for Contemporary Art opens in the converted Baltic Flour Mill at Gateshead.
22 July – Rio Ferdinand becomes the most expensive player in English football when he completes his £29.1million move from Leeds United to Manchester United.
23 July – Rowan Williams, Archbishop of Wales, elected to be the successor of George Carey as Archbishop of Canterbury.
Leicester City F.C. move into their new 32,000-seat Walker’s Stadium, named under a sponsorship deal with Walker’s Crisps, after 111 years at Filbert Street. It is officially opened by former England striker Gary Lineker, who was born locally and started his playing career with the club.
25 July – The Commonwealth Games, hosted by Manchester are opened by the Queen. The event also marks the opening of the City of Manchester Stadium, which will host the games. It will be partly remodelled after the games are over to become home of Manchester City F.C. from August 2003.
30 July – Heavy rain overnight results in the floods in Glasgow.
August – An outbreak of Legionnaires‘ disease in Barrow-in-Furness results in seven deaths and 172 cases throughout the month, ranking it as the worst in the UK’s history and fifth worst worldwide.
4 August – 10-year-old girls Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman go missing in Soham, Cambridgeshire.
5 August – Police and volunteers in the Soham area begin the search for Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman.
7 August – Police investigating the case of the two missing Soham girls seize a white van in nearby Wentworth and admit they are now looking at the case as a possible abduction.
12 August – A possible sighting of Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman is reported by a local taxi driver who claims to have seen the driver of a green car struggling with two children and driving recklessly along the A142 into Newmarket on the evening the girls went missing.
13 August – Two mounds of disturbed earth are found at Warren Hill, near Newmarket, in the same area where screams were reported on the night that Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman went missing. It is initially feared that the mounds of earth were the graves of the two girls, but a police examination fails to uncover any link to the girls.
16 August – Ian Huntley, caretaker of Soham Village College, and his girlfriend Maxine Carr, are questioned in connection with the disappearance of Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman, but are released after seven hours in custody.
17 August – Following the recovery of items of major interest to the police investigation, Ian Huntley and Maxine Carr are re-arrested on suspicion of murder as police admit for the first time that they fear the missing girls are now dead. Several hours later, two "severely decomposed and partially skeletonised" bodies are found in the Lakenheath area; they have not been identified but police say that they are likely to be those of the two missing girls.
21 August – Ian Huntley, detained under the Mental Health Act, is charged with the murders of Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman. His girlfriend Maxine Carr is charged with perverting the course of justice. Both are remanded in custody. Meanwhile, police confirm that the two bodies found at Lakenheath are those of the two girls.
20 September – Police confirm that human remains found in woodland near Fleet in north Hampshire are those of Amanda Dowler, who went missing in Surrey six months ago. A murder investigation is launched.
22 September – An earthquake in Dudley is felt throughout England and Wales.
1 October – Main provisions of National Health Service Reform and Health Care Professions Act (of 25 June) come into force in England, including renaming and merger of existing NHS regional health authorities to form 28 new strategic health authorities, and introduction of Primary Care Trusts to be responsible for the supervision of family health care functions.
9 October – A judge decides that Ian Huntley is fit to face prosecution for the Soham Murders.
14 October – The Northern Ireland Assembly is suspended following allegations of spying in "Stormontgate".
23 October – Estelle Morris resigns as Secretary of State for Education, explaining that she did not feel up to the job.
25 October – Memorial service held at St Paul’s Cathedral for the victims of the Bali bombing, which killed 26 UK citizens.
1 November – Diana, Princess of Wales‘ former butler, Paul Burrell, is cleared of stealing from the princess‘ estate after it was revealed that he had told The Queen that he was keeping some of her possessions.
13 November – Firefighter’s strike begins.
15 November – Moors Murderer Myra Hindley dies in West Suffolk Hospital at the age of 60 after being hospitalised with a heart attack. She was in the 37th year of her life sentence and had spent the last decade attempting to gain parole, having been told by no less than four Home Secretaries that she would have to spend the rest of her life in prison, having previously increased her minimum term from 25 years to 30 years during the 1980s, and then to a whole life tariff in 1990. Media sources report that the Home Office will soon be stripped of its power to set minimum terms for life sentence prisoners, and Hindley had been widely expected to gain parole in the near future as a result.
20 November – German anatomist Gunther von Hagens conducts a public autopsy in a London theatre; the first in Britain in more than 170 years.
40 years after the first James Bond film was made, the 20th film is released in British cinemas as Pierce Brosnan bows out as Bond in Die Another Day after four films in seven years.
23 November – The Miss World beauty competition is held in London after rioting in the Nigerian capital Lagos prevent it being hosted there.
24 November – Home Secretary David Blunkett rules that four convicted child murderers should spent at least 50 years in prison before being considered for parole. This ruling means that Roy Whiting, Howard Hughes, Timothy Morss and Brett Tyler are likely to remain behind bars until at least the ages of 92, 80, 79 and 81 respectively.
26 November – Politicians in England and Wales lose their power to set minimum terms on life sentence prisoners after the European Court of Human Rights and the High Court both ruled in favour of a legal challenge by convicted double murderer Anthony Anderson. Anderson had been sentenced to life imprisonment in 1988 and the trial judge recommended that he should serve a minimum of 15 years before being considered for parole, but the Home Secretary later decided on a 20-year minimum term.
30 November – Girl band Girls Aloud are formed from the five female contestants who win the ITV talent show Popstars The Rivals.
10 December – Sydney Brenner and John E. Sulston win the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine jointly with H. Robert Horvitz "for their discoveries concerning ‚genetic regulation of organ development and programmed cell death’".
Cherie Blair apologises for the embarrassment she caused in buying flats with the help of convicted fraudster Peter Foster.
12 December – The latest MORI poll puts Labour four points ahead of the Conservatives on 37%, while the Liberal Democrats are enjoying a new high in popularity with 24% of the vote.
15 December – On the Record, the BBC’s flagship political programme, finishes after 14 years on air.
19 December – Shaied Nazir, Ahmed Ali Awan and Sarfraz Ali all convicted of the racist murder of Ross Parker in Peterborough.
Stuart Campbell, a 44-year-old builder from Grays in Essex, is found guilty of murdering his 15-year-old niece Danielle Jones 18 months ago. Danielle’s body has never been found. It is then revealed that Campbell, who is sentenced to life imprisonment, has a string of previous convictions including keeping an underage girl at his home without lawful authority in 1989.
22 December – Sound of the Underground, Girls Aloud’s first single, is the UK’s Christmas number one.
BedZED (Beddington Zero Energy Development), the country’s first large-scale zero energy housing development, of 99 homes in Beddington, London, designed by Bill Dunster, is completed.
Over 50% of the UK population (well over 30 million people) now has internet access.
Car sales in Britain reach a record level for the second year running, now exceeding 2.5 million for the first time. The Ford Focus is Britain’s best selling car for the fourth year in a row, and Ford Motor Company retains its lead of the manufacturers for British sales, which it has held since 1975. Ford has a total of four model ranges among Britain’s top 10 selling cars, for the first time since 1989. Vauxhall, Peugeot, Renault and Volkswagen also enjoy strong sales.
16 April – Cutting It (2002–2005)
21 April – Born and Bred (2002–2005)
13 May – Spooks (2002–2011)
14 May – The Experiment (2002)
6 September – Fame Academy (2002–2003)
23 November – Daniel Deronda (2002)
20 October – Great Britons
16 December – Raven (2002–2010)
7 November – 15 Storeys High (2002–2004)
24 February – UK Top 40 (2002–2005)
31 August – Dick and Dom in da Bungalow (2002–2006)
8 January – Footballers‘ Wives (2002–2006)
11 May – The Vault (2002–2004)
9 July – Shipman
25 August – I’m a Celebrity… Get Me Out of Here! (2002–present)
A Is for Acid (2002)
Up on the Roof (2002–2005)
27 October – Foyle’s War (2002–2015)
7 November – Russian Roulette (2002–2003)
14 November – Harry Hill’s TV Burp (2002–2012)
24 November – Doctor Zhivago (2002)
29 April – RI:SE (2002–2003)
5 August – BrainTeaser (2002–2007)
25 May – Most Haunted (2002—2010)
The 2002 BRIT Awards winners were:
Best British Male Solo Artist: Robbie Williams
Best British Female Solo Artist: Dido
Best British Group: Travis
Best British Album: Dido: "No Angel"
Best British Dance Act: Basement Jaxx
Best British Newcomer: Blue
Best International Male: Shaggy
Best International Female: Kylie Minogue
Best International Group: Destiny’s Child
Best International Newcomer: The Strokes
Best International Album: Kylie Minogue – "Fever"
Best British Video: So Solid Crew – "21 Seconds"
Best British Single: S Club 7 – "Don’t Stop Movin’"
Best Pop Act: Westlife
Outstanding Contribution: Sting