When Love Comes Full Circle

Around thirty-six years ago, Nick and Jenny met at Girton College. 

So did Nigel and I. 

On Saturday, Nick and Jenny’s lovely daughter Annwyn married Andrew whom she also met there.

The wedding took place amid the red brick and wooden panelling that is Girton, in such fine weather that the bluebells were beginning to bloom in the College grounds.

There was one person there who has been witness to all our love stories.  On the wall of the Great Hall, watching over dons and students, there hangs a portrait.  It is Emily Davies, a great feminist and suffragist and the founder of Girton, which was originally a women's college.

I’m sure that our various romances will have drawn only a wry smile from her, but hopefully Saturday’s wedding will have delighted her with its feminist improvements on the wedding traditions:

Emily Davies

The ceremony in Girton Chapel was presided over by Beth and Alison, two female clergy who are (like Nigel and I) godparents to Annwyn.

The bride and groom walked down the aisle together rather than having the patriarchal “giving away” of the bride.

The formal speeches were given even-handedly by men and women - by the groom’s father and the bride’s mother, by the best man and the chief bridesmaid and by the bride and the groom.

It was in fact Andrew in his speech who asked whether Emily Davies would have approved.  We all agreed with him that she most certainly would.

A green dress by Annabel was another innovation.

Annwyn's parents met here too.  And look pretty much exactly as they did then.

Cherry Blossom Against a Blue Sky

Teachers get a fortnight off at Easter and I was both lucky and unlucky enough to spend only a day of it at home.  

We took a family holiday in Cornwall, then I stayed on with my parents.  Then, because it fitted in with Nigel’s work commitments, Amsterdam.  Tiring but brilliant.

My question of holidays is always “What can you teach my every day life?”

Because, in the words of Franz Ferdinand, “It’s always better on holiday.”

This time what I noticed was my relationship with my camera.  On holiday, sights seem more significant.  The thought that I might never be in that place again gives everything I see a uniqueness that has to be captured.  I was constantly snapping away.

Actually, for most of my Easter break, both in Cornwall and Amsterdam, the weather was grey and often wet. 

The sun reserved its transformative glory for when we got back.

But when we got back, I was busy catching up with work. 

Then I trundled my shopping bag on wheels down to the Co-op for essentials.  I looked up and saw young green plane leaves mingling with cherry blossom against the bluest sky.  I hadn’t seen anything more beautiful than that in Amsterdam or Cornwall.  The place where I live is also unique. 

And I stopped and took a photo.

Votes for Women!

It is a perfect storm that the TimesUp and Me Too campaigns have coincided with the UK anniversary of Votes for Women. 

Those of my generation who were feminists in the late seventies/ early eighties are relieved. For a couple of decades it looked as if the battle had been abandoned long before it was ever won.

Now at last our younger sisters are expressing disgust that there is sexual harassment at work and pay inequality.  

It is time to take up the banner again.

And my friend Annabel O’ Docherty is doing just that.

In Newnham College, Cambridge, hangs a banner of azure velveteen and Indian silk, born aloft over a hundred years ago by alumnae of Newnham and Girton Colleges in several marches for votes. 

Although there were two women’s colleges, there was only one banner, and to mark the anniversary, Annabel is making a replica for Girton to keep.

She invited me to assist.

A team of three Newnham maintenance staff opened the special glass-fronted case.

We Aaahed.

Dr Lucilla Burn became the most overqualified person ever to hold a ladder, while Annabel teetered at the top and I scribbled down the measurements as she called them out.

We loved the stencils of irises for Newnham and daisies for Girton.

We appreciated the banner’s message: “Better is wisdom than weapons of war.”  Just as urgent now as then.

And we liked the idea that so many highly educated young women set down their pens to work together at stitching a banner.  Using traditionally female skills in order to produce a subversive artefact is very “now” (cf Tracey Emin and a number of others).

As Annabel sets about using her considerable expertise to produce the replica, I’m sure that all the women in the black and white photo below would be cheering her on. 

The battle for women’s rights must continue!

TO FIND OUT MORE ABOUT THE EXTRAORDINARY BANNER: NEWNHAM WEBSITE: 

http://www.newn.cam.ac.uk/newnham-news/happy-international-womens-day/

Family Holiday Fears

Emotionally, I am just not cut out for family holidays.  “Is it the catering?” you ask.  “Does your family bicker?”  “Is it tough spending so much time in each other’s company?”

No.  None of those.  It’s more….metaphysical.

You start the week with a sense that there are endless possibilities and that you will have limitless time.  You will play board games with your children and cook them their favourite meals. You will read the Booker Prize Winner, make watercolour sketches of the view from the window.  There are any number of historic properties and sites of natural beauty within reach.

Then, after a couple of days, one of the children returns home for a work commitment, soon to be followed by another.  By the end of Wednesday, you are more than half way through your week.  It becomes clear that you should have prioritised, should have pursued more single-mindedly the things you really wanted to do. 

Finally, there is the struggle to quell panic as the end of the break zooms up fast.

My problem is this: surely the family holiday is a metaphor for Life itself.

But as soon as I get home, I start looking forward to the next family break, whenever that will be.  And that really is the chief pleasure of a holiday – the anticipation of it.  It is there at the back of my mind, like Narnia at the back of the wardrobe - a land where time will stand still and all will be perfect once more.