The author aged 4 at his first Christmas in Elm Walk, Penkridge
The author celebrating Christmas dinner aged 20 (back left) with brother Paul and front row (left to right), father Geoff, Mother Connie, Aunt Em and Uncle Alfie
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Letters from America - San Francisco - (following in the footsteps of Alistair Cooke) |
January 2011 letter April 2011 letter Xmas 2011 letter
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The author aged 4 at his first Christmas in Elm Walk, Penkridge |
The author celebrating Christmas dinner aged 20 (back left) with brother Paul and front row (left to right), father Geoff, Mother Connie, Aunt Em and Uncle Alfie |
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Hello Penkridge: The author Simon Winchester described San Francisco as a staggeringly beautiful place perched precipitously on a crack at the edge of the world. But it's precisely this danger that created such a remarkable place to live with its huge bay, majestic hills, geological scenery and amazing mountains only a couple of hours away in the Sierra Nevada's. Of course, this natural beauty has it's drawbacks. Like the Big One that's anticipated at a 65% chance within the next 20 years. The city was completely destroyed in 1906 by an earthquake and the resulting fire and in the 25 years I've lived here, we feel temblors every few months ranging from 3.0 to 4.5. The most that happens is you feel a slight sudden shift in the house and you hear a crack when the wood in the structure bends and flex with the strain of the earth moving underneath. You know what it is immediately, but you don't know if its going to continue, so your heart and pulse races regardless of whether its 3.0 (negligible) or a 7.1 (destructive). I was here in 1989 when we had a 7.1 quake and let me tell you, they are no fun. I was driving on the freeway when it struck at 5.04pm and the car I was in started rolling from side to side. I thought I had a flat tyre but when I saw a wall collapsing in front of me and the lights and signposts swinging crazily I knew it wasn't a flat tyre but an earthquake - which kept going, and going and going....or so it seemed at the time, but in fact only lasted 15 seconds. However, in those few seconds, 63 people died, 3,757 were injured and 12,000 people were made homeless. That day remains with me every time I drive across the Golden Gate or the Bay bridges as a span on the Bay bridge collapsed that day and it doesn't give you much confidence in these 70 year old structures that when the Big One does hit, then the bridges aren't going to survive and I would not want to be caught on them when it happens. Many people have become blasé about quakes in San Francisco as its been so long since we had a major one, but not this intrepid Black Country lad, used to dealing with all sort of emergencies and crises growing up in Penkridge, like how to deal with the rising waters of the Penk, watching for suspicious activity at the ATC center at the end of Grange road, being observant of leaves on the tracks of the London to Edinburgh railway and how to get pork scratchings at midnight on Christmas Eve, (it helps when the landlord of The Railway Inn is a family friend).... and so armed with the knowledge and experiences of these youthful disasters, I decided to prepare for when the next big earthquake does strike. I went online and bought a 72 hour survival kit. It arrived a couple of weeks ago and consists of dehydrated food for 4 people, an emergency blanket and tarp for cover, first aid kit, swiss army knife, an axe and 4 gallons of water in pouches - and a wind up radio to listen to the American equivalent of Wogan while the surrounding city burns to the ground post quake. As I was examining this so-called survival kit, it struck me that I already have most of this stuff.... its called camping gear..... which has been stuck in the back of my garage for the last few years gathering dust, mainly due to flashbacks of holidays in my teen years of wet, soggy fortnights spent at Taylbont tent site near Barmouth, inWales. I finally brought up the courage to exhume the camping stuff recently and have decided that this summer is the time to face the demons and put behind me the dangers of camping I faced at Talybont of drunken Brummies tripping over tent pegs in the dead of night, rain falling so hard a flash flood happened under my tent while I was sleeping, lizards inadvertently fried by falling into cooking pans etc.... and am now ready to face the more daunting dangers of camping in the mountains of California, such as mountain lions, 600 pound black bears raiding for food, coyotes, water moccasins and rattlesnakes.....but after surviving The Railway on Christmas Eve and summers in Talybont, I can survive anything - I hope. Andy Narraway (30
April 2011) |
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Camping in California - by Andrew Narraway - Copyright 2011 © |
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Hello Penkridge: I am an ex Penkridge lad, educated at Marshbrook infants, then St. Michael's and finally onto Wolgarston High School when I left (or graduated as I believe is the nomenclature these days) in 1980 with 10 "O" and 2 "A" levels and headed like Dick Whittington hoping for fame and fortune (well, a decent paying job at least) to London Town at the ripe old age of 17. After working in Lloyds of London for 2 years, where my salary was £2,900 per annum, (so I obviously didn't find the decent wage I was looking for!), I decided I would have a better standard of living by going to college! Yes, I really WAS that poor in London. I graduated 3 years later from what was then Plymouth Poly with an honours degree in Law and Economics. Having gained the requisite "Hons" after my name, I then decided I wanted to travel around the world for two years before returning to the UK to start a career. This was of course before the idea of a gap year had ever been thought about and my friends and family looked horrified when informed of my plans. So I left to wander the world as many Penkridge youngsters have done in the past. My travels took me first to the States where for six months I worked my way across the country painting houses, working on farms, working as a school janitor, working in a monastery, until I ended up in San Francisco in California on the West Coast where I have lived and worked now for 25 years. I keep in touch with Penkridge as my dad still lives there and Bevan suggested I perhaps sent the occasional “Letter from San Francisco”, following in the footsteps of Alistair Cooke (for those who remember him). It will only be short notes and somewhat irregular as I don’t make my living from writing, and I will try and cover some of the things about America you may be interested in from a Penkridge Lad's perspective - my views about this city, state and country – let Bevan know if you find them interesting – or register on the “Have your Say” Forum on the website and tell me to go jump in the Pacific if that takes your fancy, or you can suggest things you may want to hear about or know about life in California. So what of the current news from San Fran (the locals NEVER call it Frisco!) ? Well, I thought of the old Country today. We have been having a bit of a mini heat wave here in northern California. It was 72 degrees Fahrenheit and sunny at 5pm, so after work I took my dog, a 2 year old rescue dog called Pepper, who is a rambunctious Australian Kelpie (no, I'd never heard of the breed either!) out to the local beach. He comes with me to
work in my office (we can do that in California, and wear flip flops to work as
well) and so both of us having been shut indoors all day decided to cut out
early and go for a walk at my favourite beach. Its called Baker
Beach, only 15 minutes from downtown. As I sat down and had a cold
bottle of Bass Ale, I watched the sun set over the Pacific, with the
Golden
Gate Bridge on my right looking an even more spectacular red in the sun's waning
rays and all of a sudden I found myself thinking “why oh why doesn’t Banks’s
make a bottle of beer to export to America?”.
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