The Oracle and Temple to Apollo, Didyma

25 May 2012. After we left Miletus we motored for a short while admiring the rain before arriving at Didyma. Here are the remains of a massive Temple to Apollo which, although never fully completed, would have rivalled that of Artemis, not too far away that was one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.

The original temple was run by the Branchidae family claiming descent from Branchos, a youth loved by Apollo. The wooden steps were quite slippery from their soaking and Fran was not best pleased I stopped her and expected her to turn round for a photo! In ancient times, once at the temple, a High Priestess answered questions in an unknown tongue which was translated by the Branchidae family members. This gave the family a certain degree (i.e. total) of opportunity to influence the advice given by the oracle!

It was the main temple of Miletus and was reached from there via a 17km Sacred Way, which had ritual waystations and statues of the Branchidae family including their animals. They were making sure of their franchise...

The marble has been badly marked by fire - hence the blackened state of the remains. The Persians under Darius invaded in 493 BC and presumably having had unpalatable advice offered by the Oracle promptly threw a wobbly and kicked out the Branchidae family and set fire to the place saying things like "Stuff your Oracle!" and "From now on we'll go to Delphi...!"

Once a visitor had climbed the steps and puffed themselves out, they then found themselves breathing in the heady fumes of incense mixed with certain other additives that left them feeling, shall we say, a touch light-headed...

On a high they were then directed down a narrow steeply sloping passage that was not only dark but narrow, the steep marble flooring requiring them in their befuddled state to reach out to touch both walls in the dark to keep their balance.

Arriving here in an enclosed temple space, but open to the sky, they then had to climb back up the steps shown at the far end.

If they were breathing heavily before, by now they were positively gasping and therefore drawing in yet more of the intoxicating fumes. At the top of these steps they found the room of the Oracle. A High Priestess, also somewhat off her head, wailed and garbled whilst members of the ever accomodating Branchidae family ("An offering? How kind!") translated the utterances of the Oracle out of the goodness of their hearts and to the growth of their purse.

Alexander the Great captured Miletus in 334 BC and began a restoration of the temple and started the tradition of the Oracle again. It was said that the sacred spring which had dried up a couple of hundred years before the Persians burnt the place, started to flow again once Alexander had visited. He probably made sure of it by digging...

There was by now a 160 year gap in the Oracle's tradition. Luckily someone was found who knew how to wail incoherently and someone learned to interpret this. Just over 600 years later, Rome was leaning heavily on the Christians and in 302 AD Galerius urged Diocletian to step it up somewhat.

Uncertain, Diocletian asked the Oracle for guidance. At Didyma the Oracle's utterings were given in written form. At Delphi they were merely spoken. The record shows that the response was interpreted as in favour of the persecution, marking the beginning of what has become known as the Great Persecution of 303, lasting for ten years.

You may get slightly biassed guidance from a High Priestess of one religion if wondering whether to persecute another... A few people from our party climbed the steps expecting to find themselves able to simply walk down the steps of the temple on the other side. And as the Oracle's rooms are no more they would have been able to do that had they been willing to jump the 12 feet or so to the floor of the first platform.

Instead we had to climb up the steep passage again. I've brightened the photo considerably, it was very dim in there. Miss Franny blinked at the wrong moment - it wasn't so dim that she could see just as well with her eyes shut...

A couple of gorgons' heads sculptures are displayed here but most of the sculpture including some statues from the Sacred Way have been removed to the museum. A few of the Sacred Way statues are apparently to be found in the British Museum in London. By the way, although we were told they were Gorgons' heads, I think they just had wavy hair - those are not snakes...

Once back at the ticket office, the current High Priest came looking for an offering...

We say goodbye to Didyma and Apollo and head back to the ship which is next to Princess Danae and a Saga Cruises ship.

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Cat in the Dog House

I've been away in Newcastle since yesterday afternoon and tonight came back to find Jess had been giving Fran a somewhat "interesting" time.

Apparently this morning whilst she was in the shower she heard the merry crash of things falling...

A strange cat had had the temerity to jump onto the window sill outside the kitchen and look through the window into the room.

Jess, who had been sitting minding his own business in the plastic drainer on the sinktop was incensed at this wanton behaviour and showed his displeasure by leaping onto the window sill on the inside and doing a shadow boxing routine with the other cat, separated by the window glass, which stopped any injuries from being inflicted.

However, he did manage to fling every single item off the window sill bar one. The kitchen roll with its wooden holder, a couple of ornaments - all were rolling about either on the work surface or the floor.

The only one that remained on the window sill was a battery-powered liquid soap dispenser. Unfortunately, every time Jess flounced up and down the length of the window sill he passed close enough for it to register him and it faithfully dispensed each time a glob of soap... Fran was not amused...

Tigger R.I.P.

A sad week. On Monday after a period of looking and acting a bit off Tigger, our female cat seemed to be having problems standing up.

We took her into the vet and they kept her overnight on a drip and for blood tests.

I had to go to Newcastle for 3 days but in one of those did it happen for a reason things I started off with a cold on the first night and shrugged it off for a day but then was feeling absolutely wretched on the second night and when I woke up on Thursday morning. So I came home on an early train and Fran said the vet wanted to see us that night.

Tigger still hadn't eaten and although she had fluids from the drip she was very poorly. The blood tests showed her liver was the problem and if she wouldn't eat she was not going to improve.

The vet felt she may eat at home, but wanted her back in the morning for more medication. We took her home but she was in a state. Normally after a trip to the vets she can't wait to get out of the travel cage, but she would not budge out of it, nor would she eat or drink or do anything other than a faint acknowledgement that she was back with us.

Jess, her brother, took one look and sniff and ran.

Taking her out of the cage was a shock. Her feet folded under her and she struggled to rise, only to crawl straight back into the cage.

In the morning the options were to try a feeding tube for a couple of days but then if she didn't eat after that, there would be nothing else to try and it sounded intrusive and we felt after so long that we didn't want to put her through forced feeding.

So yesterday was a very sad day and we are worried about Jess who, unlike Tigger, has never since a kitten particularly sought out our company except for food and a bedtime stroke, but who loved to cuddle up with her for hours. He's now trying to find hiding places where she hasn't been and we just need to give him time and hope he grieves and then comes round.

We'll miss our Tiggie-poos, she was a beautiful and loving cat right from being a kitten in 2002.

I Must Be Somewhere Around Here...

Several weeks of travelling about and being busy at weekends have left me with little time for updating the blog lately. However, here's a bit of an update. "Bit" in that it skims the surface and just gives a flavour... This last week started with a train trip to Edinburgh.

I'm not a big fan of trains. It seems that every time I take a trip by train it reminds me why I don't like them...

On the day I was coming back (Tuesday), the power lines just north of Carlisle decided to come down. As they do... It meant that no trains passed that point until lunchtime that day. Now that's not bad as it was teatime by the time I was ready to roll out, but all trains were running late. Quite late... And by the time we got to Preston, the usual three-an-hour trains to Blackpool had turned into none-this-hour but four-in-the-next...

I got home late and of course Fran was on a late shift so I had to set to and make some tea, after cleaning up the cats' litter trays. As my meal was almost ready for coming out I heard the merry sound of one of the cats upchucking a hairball... He sat looking at me as though to say "Hey Dad! Welcome home!"

Then on Thursday I had the joys of a hospital trip in the morning for some tests that involved taking a fasting blood sample then administering obnoxious gloop and then taking another blood sample after a couple of hours of doing nothing, eating nothing, drinking nothing to see what my body had done with the gloop. I had a rather queasy feeling that I knew exactly what it had done with it but never mind...

Then after a very late breaking of fast, it was almost time to set off for Shrewsbury.

The Lion Hotel had a notice in their windows - their own cat had gone missing...

I was running a workshop in Telford but the travel agents had decided there were no hotels with vacancies closer than Shrewsbury so I had a half hour drive on Friday morning in the fog to get to Telford.

After that, all I had to deal with was a trip up the M6 on Friday night which is never a good thing. I might have been tempted to head back towards Shrewsbury to go up the A49 to Chester but someone said the M54 was blocked due to an accident that way... I reckon it still might have been quicker!

Anyway a good night last night as we went to Garstang to watch Garstang Musical Whatever (used to be Garstang Light Opera Group and I could remember that name...) doing a show of musical numbers from all their productions over the past 25 years as they celebrated their 25th anniversary. Brilliant night!

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Merry Christmas!

Whilst Edward and John tried to give some semblance of knowing what was going on,
Tigger had totally failed to grasp the concept of Mario Karting...

A very Merry Christmas to all readers, regulars and passers-by. I think it's fair to say my son-in-law trounced me...

Hope everyone had a good day and don't forget there's a whole Boxing Day to recover!

Ship Shape and Bristol Fashion

Tuesday 28 May 1998. In the previous entry Fran and I visited the S.S. Great Britain in Bristol Docks. The well-known saying that is the title of this entry was stamped onto the ship's bell.

In its ship-building days, Bristol had a reputation second to none and that led to the saying becoming part of Britain's folklore. Along with such gems as "Red sky at morning - shepherd's warning" which meant that if the clouds were low enough to be tinged red by the rising sun it was likely to rain. Its sister saying is "Red sky at night - shepherd's lass is a bit o' alright!" or something like that...

Anyway this has nothing to do with our entry here except to pad it out as, although I took plenty of photos, I don't have plenty of tales to tell!

The Great Britain is a fair bit away from the city centre so we took a ferry through the old docks. Bristol has a history not only of ship-building but as a port, where not all the goods are to the city's credit. Slavers used Bristol with over 2000 slave ships setting out in the 110 years from 1697 to 1807.

It was an important wine port also. England's best known sherry, Harveys Bristol Cream, is so called because the Harvey family were based in Bristol.

We came to the city centre and immediately noted the sky. "Dark sky in afternoon - makes it hard to play the bassoon".

There being no such thing as mobile Internet in 1998 we went in search of a Tourist Information Office to find some accomodation for the night. The place was absolutely full. So was Cheddar, Wells, Weston... We spent two hours in the Tourist Information Office and didn't have any luck until we said we were going to head towards the Cotswolds and was there anything up that way?

We eventually secured a room in a guest house in Cirencester - the place we started this holiday with a brief stop at the Roman arena! It was an hour's run so we set off back towards the car which was parked near the Great Britain. The sky wasn't quite so threatening now. "Sky turning fair - don't put Domestos on your hair" so we walked back down the docks instead of taking the ferry. Well ok - the ferry was nowhere in bloody sight actually, but the walk was ok.

This wasn't a ferry, but a pleasure cruise around the docks where they tell you things like the dockside Post Office had to have the cellars excavated and when they did, the skeletons of scores of people were found. Must have been hellish working for the Post Office in those days...

Now I remember that story because I had been to Bristol for a conference a few weeks previously and they had taken delegates on such a trip and it's the only story I remember! Oh the days of hospitality...!

As we neared the car we came across this little fellow, quite unperturbed that his home was bobbing up and down as the wind got up and the sky was definitely going dark again! "Daytime street lighting - tomcats start fighting!"

Look, alright, I'm making these up as I go along, ok? I have visions of folks in other countries going, "Here! Look at what they say in England!" I could start a national trend in Mozambique or somewhere where folk gather and intone solemnly "Daytime street lighting..."

So we head north to Cirencester where we find our guest house is managed by a very friendly Chinese couple. We walked into the town centre to eat in a pub and found just one customer with a dog and a pint and no-one behind the bar.

"If you serve yerself, can yer pour me a pint?" said the customer, nodding sagely whilst the dog stared at me with a look that clearly said "When the sun's done shinin' on that hillock - take no notice, he's a pillock..."

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A Village Called Sirince, A Bar Called Horizons

Saturday, 21 August 2010. The coach leaves St John's Basilica and takes us to a small village called Sirince, pronounced Seh-RIN-jay.

We visit the Artemis Restaurant where we are given a glass of wine and a pancake stuffed with spinach. Apart from being just a little dry, the pancake was lovely. The wine was produced in the village which has been producing wine for quite a while.

Sirince is one of those villages that exchanged populations with Greece after the First World War.

The Greeks who lived here went to a village in Greece and that village's Turks came back to Turkey to live here.

There's some debate as to whether it was the Orthodox Christian Greeks or the returning Turks who instigated the wine making but the Turks either started or continued it and we sampled it and honestly couldn't tell whether it was Greek or Turkish in flavour... The restaurant cat - or it may have been a stray - purred as it brushed past me under the table and clawed the leg of the woman sitting opposite...

Sirince is one of those places where you wonder how they all make a living if not for tourists. I suspect many of the inhabitants work in Selcuk but the main street is a row of shops or stalls selling clothes, baskets and all sorts of stuff that I never ever buy on holiday... Actually if all tourists are like me, then it's to be hoped the majority of the population have a job in Selcuk!

Even the local road train only had one carriage. We had a couple of old ladies sitting opposite us on the coach and they reminded us a lot of Sadie and Joan who we met on an Island Star cruise. They were skilled experts at haggling to the point of making loud disapproving sucking noises if anyone else was in danger of paying too much! We waited in the hot sun for the coach to come back to pick us up. The locals were mainly sitting in the shade or having a siesta and probably thought us all mad...

A row of catering size tins, once containing cooking oil held a row of sunflowers.

That night in the Horizons bar we again sat to enjoy the music of Tomas and Maris - 2 Intense. At the end of one set Tomas brought the guitar off stage and gave it to me. The nylon-strung classical guitar felt nothing like my Fender Stratocaster, but I ran through the opening riff to Johnny B Goode and then dropped into Concrete and Clay whilst becoming aware that tables around us had gone quiet to listen.

"Come up and do one at the end of the next set," said Tomas. The end of the set came really quickly and as I was called up on stage, Fran realised our camera was still in the cabin and dashed off to get it! Talk about support - as I take the stage she runs out of the room!!! Once on stage I'm realising another challenge. Tomas did not use a strap or a guitar pick. My fingernails are not long enough so I had to strum and pluck with my finger ends. Also his legs are longer than mine. So whilst sitting on the stool Tomas's thigh is horizontal and supporting the guitar whereas mine is sloping down and the guitar wants to slide away from me!

So I play Concrete and Clay and am rewarded with a large burst of applause from the room. I thank Tomas and Maris - who has been keeping time, playing an egg-sized rhythm shaker throughout without even knowing the song! During the break between sets someone comes up to say how much they enjoyed my song and that I should go on again... Ooh aye! Feed the ego!!!

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Traumatic Time at the Vet's

No, not for the cat... For me.

Tigger has had a urinary tract problem. It started last year around this time and she was really bad then - we thought for a while we might lose her, but she recovered and we knew this time to spot the early symptoms and to get her to the vet's for a couple of injections.

Last night we took her for the second one and they were running a bit late with a place full of dogs. Tigger was safe enough (or should that be, the dogs were safe enough?) but she straight away started a continuous growling and yeowling and the dogs started to get nervous...

Which is ok, except that I am slightly allergic to dogs. We were there over half an hour and when I came out my eyes were sore.

By the time I had driven home my eyes looked like this!

I had to spend the night flat on my back with two cotton pads soaked in cold water over my eyes. I put my headphones on and just listened to music. Fran kicked me a couple of times claiming I was snoring but seriously – how could I have been when I was listening to music?!?

Anyway this morning the swelling has gone down a lot but I think I might find some things to do that don't require a lot of staring at the computer screen!

And Tig is so pleased to be home she's cuddling her brother, Jess, which he is suffering without complaint...

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Danger Zone - Sneezing Man, Bunged Up Cat!!!

Yuck! I've got the sneezes. Don't actually think it's a cold as I don't feel ill. Not Swine Flu 'cos there's no grunting... Could be an allergy.

Miss Franny is threatening to fit me with a nose bag. But I'm not that hungry, Fran...!!!

Am nursemaiding Tigger the cat too. Poor thing has got cystitis. Not well at all. She's finding it very hard to go to the loo. Tigger and Jess are seven years old, brother and sister from the same litter. For seven years they have eaten from the same bowl, pooped in the same litter tray and shared everything. Now Jess is learning that means sharing medical diets...

We bought them a new tray so they could have one each and lined it with newspaper. Jess thought it would be excellent to sleep in...

Saucy!!!

I'm in disgrace...

Not because I've been away from home for two days... I've been in Newcastle for a planning meeting with colleagues and Fran got used to me being away years ago.

No, it was that when I got back last night and she'd cooked a meal I reached for the bottle of tomato sauce and gave it a good shake. Ah... the top wasn't screwed on, was it?

There was a red intermittant streak from wall to wall in the kitchen. It covered the carpet. It covered the freezer. It covered the kitchen cupboards.

It covered me - the clean PJs that I'd just changed into, all down one leg, up and over the shoulder, across my glasses and up my forehead...

It covered Jess, one of our two cats... He was sitting on top of the freezer and caught quite spectacularly a large dollop all down his side. He immediately scarpered and took refuge on the window sill in the living room where he generously smeared it on the floor, net curtains, ordinary curtains and the door as he rushed through...

We had to wash him ... and the floor, the furniture, the curtains will have to come down today, the PJs etc. etc... I've been warned never to have ketchup again and never to shake anything until I've checked that the lid is secure. I was almost sent packing back to Newcastle... You know, women lose all their sense of humour at things like that, don't they? I think a change of kitchen carpet is imminent...

Charlie the Wheelchair Cat

We've spent the afternoon at an open day of a Cat Sanctuary in St Annes that we have supported for a while.

David and Jeannie first told us about it and we did a charity gig a while ago where the proceeds went to help them.

Their star resident is Charlie the Wheelchair cat. Charlie has a condition very similar to cerebral palsy in humans and cannot balance on his legs at all. His front legs are still quite strong though and the sanctuary have fitted him with a cat wheelchair on which he tears about the garden with his tail held high and happily comes when called to be petted and to love you back.

He does get the shakes a bit, but is such a wonderfully inspiring cat as he is determined to get on with things despite his handicap and no one who sees him can doubt that he enjoys life. This afternoon we saw Charlie and all his fellow rescued cats, including a tiny bundle-of-fun 4-week old kitten called Basil, who has taken to Charlie in a big way and sleeps with him and follows him about - or even rides on him when he's in his wheelchair!

Fran was lucky at the tombola - more or less walking away with all the booze... and we bought a few bits in the auction too!

A Trip To The Vet's

I'm up in Stirling in Scotland at the moment, ready to deliver a Change Management workshop tomorrow.

It's a bit muggy but thankfully I've missed all the rain that's been sweeping the eastern side of the country. We got it last night around 3:00am when the bedroom kept lighting up and all sorts of crashes and booms were heard - yes, I'm a strange sleeper...

Actually I can't remember when we had the last decent thunderstorm. The one that sticks in my memory was when a single thunderbolt crashed through the roof of a house about a quarter mile away also in the middle of the night and just about everyone in Bispham jumped out of bed in a fright thinking Hitler was having another go...

Anyway, last night's was a doozie! Consequently I'm bushed. We got up and had to take one of our cats, Tigger to the vet - she's been a bit off for a week or so but was really off this morning. Not that she was too far out of it to resist going into the travel box and she most definitely did not appreciate where the vet put that thermometer...

But she was most thankful to be home and brightened up considerably, thus making the whole journey a bit of a mockery. She was suffering from a bit of heat exhaustion, poor thing. So am I now...

She was also a bit put out to be called obese too, but never mind Tig... runs in the family...! So I left the house with fans blasting out and am now wishing I'd brought one up here with me! Jess, our other cat kept a wary eye on proceedings once he saw the travel cage come out and when we got back with Tigger, he was sitting underneath the table on one of the dining chairs, right against the wall where he thinks we can't get at him. He says he doesn't care what his temperature is after talking to Tigger...

Gone To The Birds

Poor Fran. She had a bit of a testing day yesterday whilst I was "enjoying" myself in London for work.

Every year around this time we have a couple of weeks where birds nest in next door's roof space and raise their young. So for a fortnight we are woken early and there's nothing we can do about it but wait for the birds - thrushes I think, certainly not an owl - to rear their young and then they fly off and all goes quiet.

Anyway this year they have managed to get in our own roof space on the back corner and Fran was woken and was thinking the noise was louder than usual when Jess, one of our two cats, appeared from the hallway at the kitchen door with a bird in his mouth.

Cue screams, during which a very disappointed cat suddenly realised he wasn't going to be applauded for being clever and went to hide the evidence, reappearing a moment later with empty mouth and an expression that said "You just imagined it,Mum! Me? Catch a bird?"

Our cats are house cats - they don't go out, so the bird must have got in somehow. No windows were open. The attic hatch was closed... Fran phoned me to let off a few hysterics. Well, shock more than hysterics. Then she went off to search the house looking for the tiny bird that was certainly going to be terrified and possibly injured too. Jess, by now, was sitting quietly on the settee, ears flattened, waiting to be shouted at...

The bird was found in the toilet, cowering behind the toilet brush. Fran gathered it up and took it outside where it managed to fly off. All was well until later when she had sat down in the living room with a coffee to settle her nerves when TWEET!... from somewhere in the living room.

The cats politely raised their heads but were not going to budge after all the fuss of before. Two birds had managed to get in. The one from the toilet had been a second one and the one that Jess had managed to catch was now in the corner on the floor under my desk. So Fran had to get on hands and knees under the desk, banging her head as she jumped each time the bird fluttered anywhere near her.

She caught this one as well, in a tupperware box, took it outside, opened the box and watched in dismay as it took a brave leap - into the fishpond... The box was used to scoop it out and she put it somewhere as safe as she could to let it dry off and recover.

When I got home last night all the drama was finished with. I suspect the birds have nested on top of the wall of the house and the two small ones had fallen down the wall cavity and forced their way through a vent in the toilet which has a loose corner.

After the initial shock had worn off, Fran had been really brave and level headed about it. Not sure I'd have been any calmer actually!

Large versions of the photos: owl, ostritch (no large one of the vulture available) The owl and ostritch were photographed at Blackpool Zoo, the vulture at Chester Zoo.

Korčula, Croatia

Monday, 4 May 2009. We are sailing through a number of Croatian islands towards Korčula.

There's some wonderful scenery, set into the deep blue of the Adriatic Sea.

We are up early, taking advantage of the view from the open deck. Groups of islands come into view, loom large for a moment, then shrink again as we carry on away from them. Croatia has over 1,000 islands off its coast.

Korčula itself is both island and town and eventually we anchor just off both and are ferried in by the Ocean Village Two's tender boats.

We had decided just to get off and explore on our own rather than take an excursion.

Korčula is quite an easy town to explore with many things to see all within a small area.

A grand sweeping staircase of stone led up from the harbour road towards the town centre. The ancient part of town is built on and around a hill and many small alleyways lead off the main streets.

A glance up one of them showed a community of cats, some of them eating something which had been put out for them, a dam stretched out, feeding her kittens. There was something strangely ancient and pleasing about the scene and you knew that you could have walked past this alley a hundred or more years ago and seen exactly the same.

We came to a little square with an imposing gateway behind us. This was to prove even more imposing from the other side, but for now we elected to set our backs to it and walk up the hill through the narrow, colourful streets.

The winged lion symbol of Venice was in evidence here and there but, as we shall see, there are other mementos of different cultures to be found.

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