97/02/15: Notable stuff done in the past week: On Wednesday, we spent an evening with Auntie Mary, my father's sister, picking her brains about our family tree. One of my goals while we are here is to build up a computer database of the Spencer family history, and Mary, born in 1910, is a good source to start with. I really need to find the extensive genealogical records that my Dad put together, which took some branches of the family back to the 1500s, but we aren't sure where they are- we really hope they aren't lost. HTML is proving to be a great way to organise information on all our relatives, keeping straight all the connections between them. On Thursday, we attended "The Great Spartina Debate" in Grange- a well-attended public discussion about the sea grass, Spartina anglica, which is taking over the Grange foreshore and is either encouraging, or encouraged by (one of the points of contention), the silting up of this side of Morecambe Bay. The locals are afraid that tourists won't want to come to Grange if the beach is green, and want something to be done about it, quick, while the experts aren't sure what measures would be effective against the grass and the silt, and want more research. While the inhabitants of Grange bemoan the development of a salt marsh on their doorstep, the citizens of Silverdale, across the bay, are equally unhappy for the opposite reason- their grassy salt marsh is being swept away by the river channel. The experts were definitely on the defensive (being the recipients of abuse of the "pointy-headed intellectual" variety) and we sympathised with them, but we enjoyed the crash course on the sociology, ecology and geology of Morecambe Bay, and the chance to participate in an event that was very different from anything we would ever come across in Flagstaff. It all reminded Jane of a scene from the movie "Local Hero". On Friday I had a visit at work from Bob Pappalardo and Louise Prockter of Brown University, and we spent the day happily poring over the latest Galileo pictures of Europa and speculating on the meaning of it all. Jane took the train into Lancaster in the evening to join us for a Thai dinner, which was wonderful though leisurely- we are getting the impression that many British restaurants only expect each table to be occupied by one party per evening and therefore don't feel any need for fast service. Like the old Dara Thai with its steak- bar motif, this restaurant (Som Siam) has incongruous decor, though in this case the theme is Lancashire farm kitchen, with low wooden beams and a stone fireplace. Very cozy. On Saturday we took the Aunties out for a pub lunch and a drive through the countryside. We were surprised the next day to see the pub landlord's picture in the "Westmorland Gazette"- apparently his liquor licence had not been renewed due to allegations of dishonest business practices. But as far as we know we got the correct change when we paid for our lunch. After having the Aunties back to our flat for the obligatory cup of tea, and taking them home, we took a nap while listening to the England vs. West Indies cricket match on the radio. Jane is amazed to hear me listening to sports in any form, but cricket commentary is something that I always enjoyed when I lived here- cricket is such a slow game (an international match lasts five days) that the commentary consists of an informal chat about what the commentators had for lunch, what the spectators are wearing, and the history of the game, punctuated by occasional remarks about the progress of the match. Ideal background listening for a drive or a nap. As usual, England's prospects did not look encouraging [though they did eventually win the match, two days later]. Sunday began with a walk across the road to the ornamental garden, which was full of both human and bird life enjoying the morning air. The park's wildfowl collection has some amazing birds, particularly the male Mandarin and Carolina ducks with their elaborate iridescent frills and ruffles- examples of evolution run amok. As we learned later, however, all is not as peaceful as it seems in the duckpond. Mutilation (the exotic birds have had the end of one of their wings removed so they can't fly away), infanticide (of the young ducklings by seagulls), and rape (by the male mallards of pretty much anything that moves) are facts of life. Later, we had lunch in a pub that we hadn't visited before, but which may become our "local"- it occupies Grange's oldest building, built in the 1600s, and the atmosphere is cozy (though also smoky- you can't have everything) and the clientele are friendly. Grange is not well endowed with pubs, having the wrong demographics, so we were happy to find this place. Thus fortified, we hiked up the 700 foot hill behind Grange for a fine, though hazy, view across the Bay, and later returned to the same pub for "quiz night", where teams compete against each other in a general knowledge quiz for fabulous prizes (well, 20 pounds cash, anyway). With the help of the landlord who joined our team, we came in fourth, so we didn't do too badly but we didn't get rich. On Monday evening we walked over to the Grange Hotel for what turned out to be a two-hour talk about railway station architecture. This was actually very interesting, mostly because of the enthusiasm of the presenter, who works for the Railway Heritage Trust, whose job is to preserve the country's railway architecture. Most memorable was his reading of an account, by an actress of the 1820's, of her ride alongside railway pioneer George Stevenson on the footplate of one of the first railway locomotives, when for the first time humans could travel faster than the speed of a horse. The talk was timed in anticipation of the completion, next month, of the restoration (with help from the Trust) of Grange railway station, where I start my journey to work most days. The station is already looking beautiful in its new vermillion and green paint, but there are still workmen scurrying around attending to the final touches as I wait for my morning train.