The 60 challenges - past and future

I can hardly believe that the year of my 60 challenges is almost over and they're all done. It doesn't seem that long ago since I was looking at the list and wondering how I was going to fit them all in, while still working - and where was a spider when you needed one?  Although I'd instantly been attracted to the idea of doing the challenges, it had taken me a while to decide I'd definitely go for it, mainly because once I'd gone public with the commitment, I was absolutely determined to complete them all. Missing out one or two, or changing the description of some to make them easier, simply wasn't an option (as I kept reminding myself as I climbed up the abseiling tower, feeling sick with fear).

Which was the best of the 60? This was what a lot of people asked as the year progressed, and I always found it difficult to answer as I'd liked all but one of them, in different ways. It's still really hard to choose. I'd never have thought it, but probably the one I enjoyed most while I was doing it, was no.31 - holding a fundraising dinner, unaided and entirely home-cooked, for 8 people. Considered in advance, it could almost have featured in the Face the Fear section, as I hardly ever cook and I knew the dinner needed to turn out well if I was asking people to pay to eat it. Paying not to eat it would have seemed more likely.

On the night, though, I'd prepared most of it in advance - using what I'd learned on the cookery course - and I was looking forward to sharing the evening with friends. It was also reassuring knowing that their expectations were unlikely to be high. Fortunately it was a success, although my extremely useful reputation for being a rubbish cook has now been dented:

As for the worst of the 60, that's easy - no.7, whizzing down the Orbit giant helter-skelter in the Olympic Park. When I first thought of it, I felt slightly guilty putting it in the Face the Fear section as there seemed a fair chance it could be fun. Being scared of heights was still a factor to bear in mind, but I had visions of cheering happily as I shot past the scenery, arriving at the bottom laughing and punching the air. The reality hit home as I stood at the top, waiting to climb into a sort of black sleeping bag with the front half cut away, and only a loop of rope to hang onto. The tube looked like polished steel, slippery, extremely steep, narrow and totally enclosed. I reminded myself I wasn't really claustrophobic and it would take a mere 40 seconds or so. It's surprising how long that can seem, when you're hurtling along in the dark, feeling increasingly sick, dizzy and dangerously out of control. My exit was not exactly glorious and I never, ever want to do it again:

Are there any of the challenges that I do plan to repeat? Yes, plenty - and two are in the Face the Fear section!  The first is the singing workshop, which I was very nervous about but thoroughly enjoyed. It's being held again on 9 December and this time I'm looking forward to taking part. The other is driving to Cambridge and back. Our very dear friends Joyce and Bill moved there a couple of years ago and I now take the wheel when we go and visit them. I haven't yet reached the point where I use the car without even thinking about it, which was what I was aiming for, but at least I now nearly always do the drive home in the evening whenever we're out. It's a work in progress and I intend to keep at it.

Using the satnav is now automatic if I haven't memorised the route - which is pretty much all the time, given my woeful sense of direction - so that will definitely continue. So too will selling things on ebay. I already have a stack of selected items on the settee, ready to photograph and submit, and I've also offered to try selling some lovely Liberty's fabric in aid of the local Shooting Star Chase children's hospice. Why did I wait so long before learning how to do this? It's simple and very satisfying.

When I looked at the list of UK cities, I was surprised that there were a number in England I hadn't been to before, as well as a lot in Scotland and Wales, and all of Northern Ireland. Chester is high on my list, as are Lichfield and Worcester. There are also particular areas I'd like to explore, including parts of Suffolk and Dorset. As for visiting a country I've never been to before, I'm especially keen to go to Denmark (I've spent an hour at Copenhagen airport in transit to Lithuania, but I don't think that counts). Peter is far more ambitious and favours Uzbekistan, Botswana and Malawi. Although it's tempting to focus on "new" countries, there are some I've already visited but would like to spend more time there. We've each been to Russia on business, separately, but never to St Petersburg and that's very tempting. I'd also like to go back to Helsinki and visit Brittany for the first time. 

I'll probably grow vegetables again next year, as I enjoyed watching the seedlings appear and develop, and felt a huge sense of achievement when they turned into something edible. I don't think I'll bother with ordinary potatoes or spring onions, as we rarely eat them, so I might branch out into new potatoes instead. The baby beetroots are worth repeating as we use them in the nutribullet and I'll also give sorrel a go, as my friend Edith's is delicious, both fresh and cooked with fruit. While I'm at it, I could give rhubarb a try as it goes well with sorrel in a compote. I remember when it was so widespread it was virtually a pest in the garden and we used to pull it up and put it on the compost. Now it's quite a treat.

I'm determined to bake another carrot cake, as my attempt this year was not a success. Mary Berry may be a wonderful cook, but I defy anyone to use her recipe and produce a cake that tastes even remotely of carrot rather than banana. Moist it may be. Soggy would be a fairer description. Any foolproof recipes would be welcome, so that I don't repeat this failure:

De-cluttering is immensely satisfying and even more so if you have the chance of helping a friend to do it. Decisions on what to discard (and preferably recycle) are much easier to make if there are two of you. I really would love to do it again, so if you have a room - or part of a room - that's bugging you and you're willing to let me work on it with you, please do let me know.

Nordic walking has now become a part of my weekly routine, as most of us who went on the Council's Fit as a Fiddle course (now a victim of the budget cuts) decided to continue doing it as a group. Clearly we aren't alone in having found it an excellent form of exercise, as Richmond Park is full of similar groups, striding along with their poles. We've found routes that can incorporate a coffee stop at the end, which makes it even more sociable. I know we may look daft but I now understand what a difference the poles make in terms of an effective cardiovascular workout, and frankly I don't care if I look a noodle:

Learning how to use my sewing machine, tutored by my friend Rowena (aka the Domestic Goddess) has been a revelation. I'm still very much a beginner but that's part of the pleasure, as there's such scope to develop and improve. In the meantime I get a real kick out of making simple things like lavender bags, tea towels and organza  "envelopes" for pashminas, using a range of fabrics in gorgeous colours:

Making and painting a papier mache bowl is something else I'd like to do more of. It was a longer process than I'd expected and what I ended up with was not at all what I'd envisaged, but that was partly because I didn't have an existing bowl that would have made a suitable mould. Originally I had in mind creating a large, shallow coffee table type, painted to look like a segmented orange in reasonably subtle colours. Unfortunately I didn't have a bowl that shape, so I had to settle for a smaller, deeper one. I doubted I could make it look as delicate as I wanted, so I decided to go for a completely different design, using several shades of blue with an overpainting of silver. It wasn't brilliant but I enjoyed creating it and I'd like to experiment with different sizes, colours and designs:

I will definitely continue watching all the films nominated each year for the Oscar Best Picture. In the past I only watched those that appealed to me and as a result I'm sure I missed some that were well worth seeing. This year, for example, I wouldn't have gone to see Moonlight as the trailer was so off-putting, but it was an excellent film. In any case all the films have been chosen for a reason and it's interesting to see for myself why other people think they are outstanding.

Visiting museums, especially if they're quirky, is nearly always a pleasure and setting a target of going to five I've never been to before is a good way of ensuring I make the effort, rather than just thinking about it. It was the first time I'd done this and I plan to continue it every year. Of the five I went to this year, the visit to the Irma Stern Museum in Cape Town was unquestionably the highlight, partly because my friend Morag knows the Director and he very kindly arranged a personal guided tour, followed by delicious coffee, sandwiches, scones and cake with him and key staff members. Often the smaller museums can be more absorbing than the national treasures, particularly if the director or curator has time to show you around and talk about the pieces that mean most to them. London has a wealth of such places I should have no difficulty finding five that are new to me - though sadly I doubt any will offer a feast like this one (only the remains are visible, as we'd eaten most of it):

Laughter is an essential part of life and if you see Henning Wehn live on stage, it's guaranteed. He's one of my favourite comedians, with his perceptive reflections on British behaviour and attitudes, and his restless curiosity. He's on tour throughout the UK most of the time and gets booked up months in advance, so I'll start looking now to see if he'll be in London next year and make sure I buy tickets.

As well as continuing all these activities, there are a few more I want to add as a result of the challenges. One, which may sound a little strange as I'm not religious, is to read the Bible. Having now read all of Shakespeare's plays, recognising so many expressions which have become part of everyday life and revelling in the beauty of his imagery and language, I think it's time I read the whole of the authorised version of the Bible, for the same reason. During my school years, one way and another - including doing RE at "O" level and seriously considering it for "A" level - I've covered quite a bit of it, but there are still sizeable gaps. I'd like to read it right through, possibly skimming the "so and so, begat by so and so" sections. Once that's done, I can listen to Desert Island Discs without feeling slightly twitchy about unfinished business.

In the same vein as wanting to see the Oscar-nominated Best Pictures, I've decided to read all six books shortlisted for the 2018 Man Booker Prize. The timing is awkward as the list isn't released until mid-September and I'm a slow reader, so it will probably be months before I finish. I just hope that unlike the 2017 selection, it doesn't include any of over 800 pages.

I'd like to continue writing, as I've enjoyed creating these blog posts. The possibility of trying to turn them into a book has crossed my mind, though the photographs could be a problem as the quality is variable and I imagine they would add significantly to the cost. Alternatively writing a novel - crime or general fiction - has long been a dream but so far I haven't come up with a plot or a theme, which is rather an impediment. Ironically, given my lack of interest in cookery, I did approach a few publishers some years ago about the idea of a book on marinades (which were then relatively unusual). The rejection letters were kind. I did, however, win a prize for a recipe published in Family Circle. I sometimes wonder what it was like, as I simply made it up and never cooked it. I've also had a couple of letters published in magazines and newspapers, though as creative endeavours I don't think they really count.  If anyone has any ideas, suggestions or helpful contacts, I'd be very grateful to have them.

What have I learned from the 60at60 experience? Above all, it has been hugely enriching and life-enhancing - far more than I'd ever imagined. I can't thank my friend Vivien enough for having given me the idea, though my gratitude is tempered by her suggestion that it wasn't sufficient simply to learn how to do a magic trick; I had to put a video of it on YouTube as well. When I look at the list of all the new things I've done this year, ranging over so many categories, it seems scarcely credible. Instead of glancing at opportunities or activities that look initially tempting and then deciding either I can't be bothered or they might not be as good as they sound, I've shaken off the lethargy and been far more positive. Giant Orbital slides and spiders excepted, I've enjoyed every single challenge - albeit in some cases not until my legs had stopped shaking. It may have taken me 60 years, but I've learned that the sense of achievement is well worth the fear, which is probably true of most things in life.

I've realised how much more I can fit in if I stop wasting time. Although I like playing Candy Crush, there are more constructive and less addictive ways of relaxing. Early on in the year, it occurred to me that I was only going to be able to meet the target of 5 challenges a month if I deleted it from my mini iPad. I steeled myself to do it and haven't regretted it, though I must admit it's still on my old iPad, lurking... Now I tend to reach for a book rather than an electronic game, which is just as well given my reading ambitions for next year.

From the outset, the involvement of other people - Peter, friends and complete strangers -has made such a difference. Discussing the draft list with a few friends before finalising it was interesting, as it revealed elements of their characters as well as mine. Mild sadism, with some (not many) exceptions, was a common feature. The Face the Fear section easily attracted the most suggestions. 

Once the list was finalised, sadistic tendencies were set aside and lots of friends volunteered to help with various challenges or to do them with me. Even if they didn't follow the blog, most wanted to know how I was getting on. Their involvement and enthusiasm made the experience great fun and much more inclusive. When I was stuck on how to tackle a particular challenge, someone would invariably come up with a way forward. My friend Jackie, for example, heard me fretting about how I was going to learn a magic trick and said her younger son could teach me. Between them they generously solved that problem. Similarly when I was wondering how to find a suitable singing workshop, bearing in mind I can't sing and always mime in public, my friend Libby told me about one taking place in Ham the following week which sounded exactly what I was after, and came with me. 

It wasn't only people I knew who were kind. Once I'd explained what I was trying to do and why, strangers went out of their way to help. I was starting to panic about the vermouth masterclass, as there was only one place in London that offered it and nine months into the year, there still wasn't a date available. When I got the chance to talk to the manager of Mele e Pere and tell him about the challenges and the two charities that would be benefiting, he went to the trouble of running one personally just for Peter and me. Likewise, when the end of the wildflower season was fast approaching and I still hadn't found a guided walk anywhere in England, a local expert willingly agreed to give up an afternoon to take me around the Ham Lands.

As well as their kindness, what struck me was how talented so many people are and how much talent there is in the local community. When I was looking into cookery courses, for example, as my arrangements for attending one in Cape Town had fallen through, I found that one of our neighbours is a professional chef and runs courses from her home. I'd known that the wildflower expert was a leading member of the local allotment society but I'd had no idea that he is Chairman of London in Bloom and on the committee of Britain in Bloom. I knew Jackie's younger son was a police inspector but it never crossed my mind that he was also a member of the Magic Circle. The chances are that whatever you want to do, there will be someone nearby who has the skills and will teach you. 

What I never doubted was the generosity of friends when it comes to supporting charities, even if they are not necessarily the ones they would have chosen. That doesn't mean I took it for granted, as I really appreciated every single donation, but I know how caring you all are. So far, thanks to you, the amount raised for Beating Bowel Cancer is £1,275 and for Arthritis Research UK it's £1,215, making a total of £2,490 - and there's still 9 more days to go.

Finally, I would urge anyone thinking about doing their own 60at60 - or whatever age is appropriate - to go ahead. It's been fantastic.

Task 10: Create and maintain a blog, with an entry for each task

As I use a computer regularly for work, I'd assumed it wouldn't be that difficult to create a blog. Wrong. Googling to see what templates were available, there was quite a choice but none seemed entirely straightforward and simple enough for my purposes. In the end I did the obvious thing and opted for the same one as my friend Vivien had used. I knew that her knowledge of IT was no more advanced than mine but what I hadn't realised was that she had an obliging chum who was a web designer, and who more or less did it for her - which was fair enough, as she had had the sense not to include the creation of a blog as one of her 60 challenges. 

Eventually I managed to sort out the columns and include a photo of myself with a bit of background blurb, but then it all went pear-shaped. It seemed I could either have text in the main section or the photo and blurb to the right, but not both. After struggling for a couple of days, I gave up and started again from scratch, but then found that when I tried to call up the blog, it kept bringing up the failed first attempt. Maybe what I needed was a young teenager to help? I asked around but the mothers all said that their children don't use blogs and wouldn't be able to help. Finally I cracked it, and Vivien was able to tell me how to insert colour coding and links into the task list, which was the final step. Unfortunately the comments box won't work unless you use Google+, and the colour coding is slightly flawed, but otherwise it does the job.

At home I always use the desk top when I'm writing a blog post but it occurred to me that while we were in South Africa for 11 weeks, I'd have to use my mini iPad. I tried setting it up before we left the UK and found to my dismay that I couldn't create any new blog posts. Having exhausted every possibility I could think of, I rang Roger - a friend who's an expert at IT - and asked if he could help. He fairly quickly pinpointed the problem and found a solution, so I was all set. Manipulating photos and inserting them into blog posts proved all but impossible using only the iPad, so Peter kindly did the cropping, re-sizing etc on his Mac and then emailed them to me, which enabled me to do the rest.

I was delighted to have acquired a new skill and was immensely relieved not to have fallen at the first hurdle. I'm sure there are elements I could have done better but I more or less got there in the end, with help from Vivien, Roger and Peter, and the sense of achievement was well worth all the hassle. 

Task 60: Learn a magic trick and post a video clip on YouTube

The idea of learning a magic trick came to mind when I remembered how a colleague at work had insisted that her young son learn one, ready for a Christmas party. She also required him to wear a bow tie, poor lad.

I've always admired the dexterity required to perform magic and I thought it would be fun to give it a try, although with no intention of performing it in public. When I'd more or less finalised my proposed list of challenges, I emailed them to my friend Vivien, who was the inspiration for the 60 at 60 undertaking, to see what she thought of them. Her comment - echoed by her husband - was that simply learning how to do a magic trick wouldn't really cut it. I needed to post a video of it on YouTube too. 

They were right, of course, but my heart sank. I've never even been able to shuffle a pack of cards properly, let alone do anything clever with them. I couldn't imagine any trick that I could perform without making it absolutely obvious what I was trying - and failing - to do. Public humiliation seemed inevitable. My only hope was that it would be so bad, it would be funny - for other people, if not for me.

Anyway, the suggestion had been made and I felt honour-bound to accept it. Peter tried to help by buying me a couple of books last Christmas about magic for beginners, and my friend Pauline similarly gave me a magic kit. I studied them all and began to get seriously worried when I found that even the simplest trick was way beyond me. Time went on and I was getting nowhere, when I happened to mention my quandary to Jackie, a friend and fellow fundraiser for the local children's hospice. She said that her younger son, Damian, was a member of the Magic Circle and she was sure he'd agree to help me. Amazing! He'd just been promoted to police inspector so was a bit busy for the next couple of months, but she'd ask him once he'd settled in to his new job.

Jackie's kindness didn't stop there. Having persuaded Damian to spare an evening coaching me, she also insisted on buying the props needed for two of the tricks he had in mind. (No rabbits or white mice required.)  As promised, he came round with Jackie one evening in the late summer and announced he was going to teach me three tricks - one with cards, one with coins and the other with lights. It was the first time I'd met him and he was lovely - friendly, direct, a great sense of humour and remarkably patient. 

He needed that patience, as the card trick, which was supposed to be really easy, took me ages to learn. Having finally got to grips with it, he insisted I try it out in front of him, Jackie and Peter, complete with patter. Not good, but not too bad. We moved on to the coins, which were a nightmare. There were effectively 6 tricks in one and I struggled to master any of them. I couldn't seem to grasp any of the key points and made one mistake after another. Again I had to try it out in front of the others, who were - quite reasonably - less than impressed. I think they couldn't quite believe just how incompetent I was.

When it came to the lights trick, Damian showed me how it worked and then wisely suggested I learn it in my own time, having left me with the instructions and a link to a demonstration video. He generously offered to come back once I'd learned them all and practised the patter, and watch me do a dry run. It was very kind of him but by that time I was so embarrassed I couldn't face the prospect of putting either of us through it again.

Over the next two months I spent some time on each of them. The card trick seemed a possibility and I liked the idea that I could add my own tweaks. The coins shouldn't have been too hard but I kept dropping them and couldn't come close to memorising the sequence of actions. The lights required spot-on timing and dexterity, neither of which I possessed. So, the cards it would have to be.

Having enjoyed myself adding extra features, eg increasing the number of packs from one to three, I practised solidly for an afternoon and decided I was ready to try it out on Peter. It was a total failure as I kept forgetting what I was meant to do next. It reminded me of having to perform in a play at school and failing miserably as my mind went blank. I'd been given the lead part - a major casting error - and the rest of the cast struggled to make sense of it as I lurched from scene 3 back to scene 1, followed by any random snippets I could remember. At least it meant I never had to do it again.

That evening we had a phone call from Zoe, the clever and talented older daughter of our friend Rowena (aka the domestic goddess - whose younger daughter is also remarkably accomplished). We're very fond of her and enjoy getting together. She has just finished renovating her flat and invited us round to dinner the next night to see the transformation. This seemed a perfect opportunity to nail the challenge, so while I spent another two hours or so on the trick, Peter worked out how to video it on my iPad.

After admiring the flat and fortified by a glass of prosecco, I asked Zoe and her delightful girlfriend Hannah if they would mind being participants. They readily agreed and I laid out my props:

They each had a go at cutting the cards, ensuring a random pack:

Hannah then opened the envelope and read out the card I'd identified in advance as the one I would make Zoe select - in this case, the ace of diamonds:

Zoe then turned over her card and she and Hannah stared in disbelief as it was indeed the ace:

And here is the whole trick on YouTube:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oDw7CWWtnwE

I was so pleased and relieved that it worked. The effort was amply repaid by the look of astonishment on their faces. This challenge also involved learning how to post a video on YouTube, so I now know how to do that if there's anything else I want to share in future. Whew!

Task 13: Master the Google Maps app

Given my rather woeful sense of direction and inability to use a map without turning it round to face the way I think I'm going (do any men do that too?), I thought Google Maps might prove very useful. Having high expectations of such apps, I'd assumed it would provide crystal clear instructions set to "numpty user" level. Phrases like "Look out for that big house with the blue door and then turn right just a few yards later" and "No, you're going the wrong way, turn back and then go left beside the pillar box" were what I had in mind. Clearly, however, there's still a market opportunity catering for people like me....

Having downloaded Google Maps onto my android phone and my mini iPad, so I could look at the instructions manual on one while trying it out on the other, I settled down to do my homework. Despite searching high and low - or whatever the online equivalent is - I couldn't find a manual anywhere. Instead I had to resort to various Help, Tips and Tricks, Tutorials and Guides web sites, most of which seemed to be based on a US version of the app. One feature that sounded interesting was the ability to see photographs of the same location taken over the last 10  years. Well, I'm sure it would have been, if I could have found the "little stick man" that was supposed to be at the top right of the screen, ready and waiting for me. He was nowhere to be found, so this "awesome tip" was no use at all.

I had more luck with the feature that enables the map to move so that it's facing the right way (in my terms). That was definitely helpful. I duly entered my home details and found it reassuring that I could always click the microphone icon and say "Please give me directions home", and be reasonably confident of it working. 

Curiously it seemed rather selective when it came to providing information on nearby restaurants. I decided to test it by asking for the locations of any in our area. There are a few within walking distance but none of them came up. Instead I was offered details of a number in Westminster and one in Sussex. If I specified an Indian restaurant, the Saqui, which is just across the Common, appeared long after some that were much farther away. Maybe it depends on algorithms that take into account marketing input and "spiders" that affect how quickly the name of an entity comes up. Anyway it was clearly not entirely reliable for that purpose, which is a pity as it's the sort of information that could be very useful if you're in a town you don't know well.

One useful piece of advice was to download maps of areas to be visited in the future, in places where internet access might be limited. I've duly downloaded ones of Cape Town and Franschhoek, and marked the places we rent as key locations. It was fun using the option of viewing photographs of them, though less amusing when I found one of our favourite restaurants appeared to be a building site. I'm hoping that's because the photo was taken some time ago, before we knew it, rather than within the last year. All being well, I'll be able to use Google Maps as a satnav when we're out there, which could save us a fair amount of time and hassle.

Having looked at all the features I could find, I decided to move on to trying it out in practice My first attempt was to navigate on foot between Wimbledon tube station and a medical centre about a mile away. Emerging from the station onto the main road, I needed to know whether to turn left or right. It wasn't at all helpful to be told to turn south west. How on earth, as the sun had already set, was I supposed to know where that was? I assumed that if I made the wrong choice, the pleasant and authoritative female voice would politely tell me so. I took a chance and turned right, and she was silent. Having plodded on for about fifty yards, it occurred to me that it would be worth testing my assumption by retracing my steps and turning left, which I did. She was still silent. This wasn't encouraging. 

Peering at the map on the phone, I couldn't recognise any of the street names and had no idea which way to go. Scrolling through the route marked, it was heading away from the centre of the town towards a greener area, so going right seemed the better option. After about 200 yards I noticed a pub that was marked on the screen, which was reassuring. 

The rest of the route was straightforward and as I neared my destination, I decided to give the woman another chance (this was becoming personal) by deliberately going down a side road instead of carrying along the main road. She let me continue quite a way into what became a dead end, before directing me to turn west towards the A219. Again, that wasn't very helpful as I didn't know which was west, nor the number of the road. It would have been far more user-friendly to have been told to turn back until I reached the main road and then go right.

I couldn't honestly say I felt I'd "mastered" Google Maps, so today I gave it another go. I asked Peter to choose a road within reasonable walking distance but out of my normal ambit, which I'd have to find using the app. He came up with Cardinal Avenue and I duly entered the name and waited for the directions to appear. They seemed clear enough so I set off, clutching my phone and trying not to think about the recent spate of acid attacks just to steal a mobile. (Peter pointed out that they'd hardly be interested in my old Android, but it's white and I reckon it could look like an iPhone in poor light.) 

As on my previous attempt, I was told to turn south west. Since we live in a cul de sac and even I know which way is out, this wasn't a problem in practice but I do think it's a design fault, giving compass bearings rather than a simple left or right. Again I made some deliberate mistakes and was disappointed that either no correcting instructions were given, or in one case I was directed to go towards the main road whereas it would have been much quicker to walk down the side of the Common. At least I now know that the road, which I've used almost daily for over 20 years, is the A307.

Having only skimmed through the directions, I thought the final stage would be to turn right off Tudor Drive into Cardinal Avenue (passing Aragon Road, Cranmer Road and Anne Boleyn's Walk - the town planners were evidently in a historical frame of mind). As I neared a newsagent, the phone suddenly told me to turn right. But there wasn't any road on the right. I carried on until I realised I must have gone too far, so I retraced my steps and as soon as I reached the newsagent, I was told to turn left. Peering around, I spotted a murky alley overhung with brambles, with garages at the end. Surely not? Oh well, it was broad daylight so I went down it and found it jinked to the left, towards a row of back gardens. At this point the phone hit its lowest ebb, declaring "Turn left into Cardinal Avenue Turn right into Cardinal Avenue Turn left into Cardinal Avenue Turn right into Cardinal Avenue". Cardinal Avenue was nowhere in sight and the announcer was in meltdown.

My approach to anything to do with computers, which is unscientific and irritates Peter as it works more often than it should, is to try to think like one. What was upsetting the phone? Since it operates on logic, perhaps it was trying to deal with a situation where this wasn't possible. Maybe I needed to turn both left and right, one immediately after the other, and the app couldn't distinguish between the two. Looking past the brambles, I noticed there was another little jink and daylight beyond it. Bingo! There was Cardinal Avenue, accessible on foot by an alley I'd never known existed.

I thought I'd do the return route as if I were going by car rather than on foot. Looking at the map on the screen, it was obvious I should take the next right into Aragon Road, which opened into Tudor Drive. Bizarrely the phone told me to turn left into Wolsey Drive (town planners at it again), which is completely the wrong way. I gave the woman a chance by following her instructions until I'd gone past the entrance to Aragon, but she was still insisting on the Drive, so I left her to it and walked home.

All in all, I think Google Maps has some useful features and is worth having as a general guide. However it isn't 100% reliable and could be much more user-friendly. It may be fine for someone with a good sense of direction and an instinctive understanding of compass bearings (unfortunately I was taught at primary school that north is always in front of me and I've never quite managed to shake this off); but for those of us who struggle with maps, it needs to have more of an idiot's guide approach. A job opportunity, maybe?

Task 35: Raise £1,500 for charity

Right from the outset, I knew I wanted to include raising money for charity as part of the 60 at 60 challenges. To be really meaningful, a big part of the year had to be about helping others. I very rarely ask for sponsorship for anything, so I was hoping potential donors might take that into account and support the two charities I chose, even if they already give to a number of others. It seemed more likely that they - you - would be generous if a significant clutch of the challenges focused on activities that I'd clearly find scary. When I was first mulling over what to include, a friend suggested "eating at 10 restaurants I've never been to before". It was tempting but I couldn't honestly see many people agreeing to stump up for something so enjoyable. I had to accept that the Facing the Fear section had to be large and suitably daunting. I was so glad I'd already held a snake - an enormous python, in Key West - which ruled that out.

It seemed sensible to opt for two charities rather than one, so that people would have a choice - and some were likely to feel much more strongly about one than another. There are so many charities doing excellent work, it could have been a difficult decision, but it wasn't. As I thought about it, there was no doubt that Beating Bowel Cancer had to be one. This awful disease has had a profound impact on Peter and on his children, Richard and Helen, with the loss of his first wife Carole when she was only thirty. Too many of my friends have also had to cope with it and two are currently undergoing very tough treatment.

Arthritis is a condition that most people probably associate with the elderly, whereas it can also affect children and young people. My cheerful, fun-loving Grandma grew up with it as a child and was in almost constant pain until her forties, when she was a guinea pig for the replacement of both her hips. Like my brother, who has severe psoriatic arthritis, she never complained and made the most of life, even though she could walk only an inch or so at a time. A friend's grandson has also grown up with it and it is now affecting his jaw, as well as his legs and hips. He loves football but has had to start secondary school on crutches and sadly it won't be long before he is in a wheelchair. The work of Arthritis Research UK offers the possibility of a medical breakthrough which could transform his life - and provide relief and a better future for so many more.

I found it hard deciding what target to set, as I wanted it to be as large as possible while being realistic. Eventually I decided on £750 for each charity, secretly hoping to reach £1,000 each. If I could raise £2,500 in total, that would be wonderful. So far, thanks to your generosity, the total for Beating Bowel Cancer stands at £1,210, with £1,120 for Arthritis Research UK. This gives a grand total of £2,330 - only £170 short of what I would really love to raise.

I now have only two more challenges to achieve - mastering the Google map app, and learning a magic trick and posting a video of it on YouTube. I'm practising the magic but as expected, I'm hopeless at it, despite the excellent tuition kindly provided by Damian - the son of my friend Jackie - who's a member of the Magic Circle. Humiliation beckons, especially as somehow I've completely lost two of the coins I was supposed to be making disappear. I can't find them anywhere. 

The year ends at midnight on 2 December, so there's only just over three weeks to go. If you, or anyone you know, would be happy to help towards that last £170, I'd be so grateful. The links for making a donation online are https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/60at60challenge for Beating Bowel Cancer, and https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/60at60challenges  for Arthritis Research UK. Alternatively you could give me a cheque or cash, and I can pay it in on your behalf. 

The euphoria of reaching £2,500 would more than make up for looking an idiot on YouTube!

Task 57: Play bingo in a bingo hall

Why bingo? I'm not sure why it almost immediately came to mind. It may be partly the lure of forbidden fruit, as I was never allowed to play lotto or anything similar when I was young, because my parents disapproved of any game that relied solely on chance - although bingo in fact requires considerable mental agility and coordination, especially if you are keeping track of more than one sheet of numbers. I was also intrigued by its popularity with so many women, whom I used to see lining up to enter the hall in Kingston when it was still open. It formed an important part of their life every week, with excitement about the chance of a modest win and the attraction of what was in effect low-stakes gambling.

Having included it in the list of challenges, I belatedly realised that many of the halls have closed in recent years. The nearest one is in Tooting and when I googled it, I was delighted to find that the hall there is a striking building, both inside and out. It originally opened in 1931 as a great, luxurious art deco cinema. As well as showing films, it was used as a venue for variety shows and in the 1960s it used to attract major talent including Jerry Lee Lewis, Frank Sinatra, the Rolling Stones, the Beatles (twice, to sell-out audiences) and the Bee Gees. In 2000 it was awarded Grade 1 listed status and it remains the only Grade 1 cinema of its style. 

Would any of my friends feel like joining in this task? I mentioned it to Vivien, who inspired me to do the 60 challenges in the first place, and she obligingly jumped at the idea. (Please do look at her blog of her own challenges, which she started in 2015 - http://sixtyat60challenge.blogspot.co.uk/.) Chips were mentioned as an inducement....

Neither of our husbands fancied taking part but Peter did come along to have a look round the hall, as he likes art deco, and to take some photos before heading home for lunch and a peaceful afternoon. The foyer and fruit machine room were certainly worth recording:

The pink inflatable flamingos seemed to be a theme of the venue. One of the staff members had wholeheartedly adopted it, including wearing lacy pink pants over his trousers, along with a rather fetching wig:

While Peter was doing his David Bailey stuff, Vivien and I were explaining to the very pleasant woman on the front desk that we'd never played bingo before and hadn't a clue what to do. When she referred to lines, tickets and full houses, it didn't mean much to us. We did grasp that to be allowed to play, we had to become members of Gala Bingo. Membership is free and is presumably a requirement of the gambling regulations. 

That done, we moved into the entrance hall and the tender mercies of the man with the wig. He was charming and did his best to enlighten us as to the options available. Essentially there appeared to be three: the traditional paper and pen method or the use of a digital tablet, with or without autoplay. The full session didn't start until 1pm, but for only £1 we could take part in a half-hour game using paper and pen. If we enjoyed it, we could return to him and pay for the full session, using whichever option we wanted.

That sounded a good plan, so we handed over our £1 each and went through to the main hall - which was even more striking, with a mixture of Gothic and art deco:

There was another flock of inflatable flamingos taking centre stage in front of the callers, contrasting strangely with the grandeur of the walls and ceiling:

It all seemed slightly surreal, as Vivien and I made our way to one of the tables and settled down to read the instructions we'd been given in a booklet that also contained various vouchers - including one for a small bottle of wine, which at this rate was soon going to be cashed in. We couldn't help noticing that the customers portrayed in the booklet bore no relation to reality. They were universally young, full of vitality and with gleaming white teeth:

The only point they had in common was that they were virtually all female. As we gazed around, we saw that apart from 3 women in their 20s, all the rest were well past retirement age, not exactly bouncy and missing more than a few teeth. Interestingly all the callers and staff in the hall were male. Were they expecting trouble later on? There was a wide range of ethnicities, which was reflected in the staff too, and - contrary to some of the reviews on the internet - all the staff were very friendly and helpful. 

We fished out our biros and sat poised over our tickets, ready to cross off numbers as they were called:

By separating my two pages, on the (mistaken) assumption that I should scan them both at the same time, I was advised by one of the staff who wandered over that I had invalidated both of them. Seeing my crestfallen look - and no doubt realising I was so clueless I hadn't a chance of winning anyway - he kindly said it didn't matter and I could carry on. 

Vivien and I both found it quite a challenge trying not only to keep tabs on all our numbers and locate and cross them off as they came up, but to spot which lines were nearing completion - and thus the chance of a small cash prize, if we could complete the line and yell out quickly enough to stop the game. As you can see from the photo above, each page has six blocks of numbers, each with 3 rows. There are prizes - typically £10-£25 - for whoever is first to get all the numbers in any single line, or any pair of lines, or all 3 (a full house). Neither of us got anywhere close. One of the staff came across to us after the game was over and advised that if we wanted to have a fighting chance, we needed to use either a thick felt-tipped pen or a "dabber" - a sort of green marker pen with a very large flat round "nib" which would completely cover the number we were trying to cross out. That way, we'd be able to see at a glance which of our numbers hadn't yet been called. 

It all passed in rather a blur and we had to decide what to do next. Both of us felt that even if we bought dabbers, we would be so much slower than the regulars that it wouldn't make much difference. Also we fancied trying a different approach and having a go with the electronic version. We each plumped for the £10 package, which would cover the main game for the afternoon - and would give us the chance of winning not only a larger cash prize but even a car, if the number marked with a gold star on our screen came up. (We briefly debated buying one package between us but how would we then share the car?)

The next decision was whether to set the digital tablet to autoplay or not. If we did, it would automatically mark off the called numbers for us and alert us if we got to the point of needing only one more number to win. We could therefore more or less sit back and let it do the work for us. Whatever we decided, we could always change our minds at any stage and simply click it on or off. Initially Vivien took the view that we should leave autoplay off and stretch our mental reflexes, whereas I felt I'd already done that and was ready for the more slothful approach. Her higher moral ground soon crumbled, so autoplay it was.

We had a few minutes before the main game started at 1pm, which was just enough time to cash in our wine vouchers and order some food. The wine was surprisingly good - chilled pinot grigio or soft fruity merlot - and we each ordered chips with tomato ketchup. There was a full and reasonably priced menu, including an offer of any 2 main courses for only £10 the pair, with items such as chicken kiev as well as the inevitable burgers. The afternoon was shaping up nicely!

Once the game was underway, this was what the computer screen looked like:

The numbers with black triangles are those which have been called. At the bottom of the worm-like space on the right, above the Claim button, you can see it says that I am only 2 numbers away from completing a single line (the top line of the first block on the top left). I was therefore gazing at the screen and listening to the caller, willing him to call out one of my required numbers:

When that happened - as it did for both of us, several times - the single last number needed would appear at the top of the worm, flashing. Meanwhile there was still the possibility of winning that car. I couldn't quite believe it later on when my screen showed a number with a gold star on it, and it was called. Surely I couldn't have won a set of wheels? I tentatively squeaked "Yes" and half raised my hand. The game carried on, as I hadn't been heard. One of the staff had spotted me, however, and came over to see what had happened. I explained and it turned out is was just as well my squeak had been inaudible, as the gold star only applies when you also have a full house - ie virtually never. Feeling a chump, I settled down and carried on staring at my worm. 

We were surprised that from time to time, it was announced that the winner of a cash prize was from Ipswich or South Shields or Liverpool. Eventually we realised that some of the games were being played nationally, with people taking part either on-line or via links with other Gala Clubs across the country. The cash prizes then were bigger but our chances of winning were greatly reduced. Or were they? I tried to remember the rules of randomness but couldn't, and decided to believe that my chances were the same no matter how many other people were taking part - unless, as was likely, they were much quicker to react in shouting out and/or pressing the Claim button if their numbers came up.

Each time it got to the point where I needed only one more number, my heart would start pounding as I stared at the flashing number in the worm, willing the caller to announce it. I'd almost given up when suddenly it happened! I hit the Claim button, squeaked "Yes!" and waved my hand, determined this time to be noticed. Amazingly I'd won one of the two highest prizes for a non-national game that afternoon - £100. Far from resenting a beginner's luck, most of the other women smiled approvingly. As I almost never win anything, I was bowled over and so excited.

Once the game ended, Vivien and I went out to the entrance hall to return our screens and for me to collect my winnings. I'd laughingly said that I'd probably find the prize was simply credited to my membership card. As the staff member went to put my screen away, I pointed out that it was showing a balance of £100 - and she said it would be put on my card. No, no. Fortunately a woman in the queue behind me, who was clearly a regular, told me I should ask for the cash and it was duly handed over. Feeling in need of a stiff cup of coffee, we went to the nearby Caffe Nero and indulged. 

It had been a very special day, sharing one of my 60 challenges with Vivien, who had had such a huge influence on my past year. If we hadn't met by chance at a mutual friend's lunch party last summer, and started chatting about what she'd been up to recently, I would never have thought of doing the challenges and would have missed out on so many different experiences this year. Thanks to her, my life has been greatly enriched and, with the generous support of friends who've made donations to one or both charities, other lives will have been helped too. We're hoping that someone else will pick up and take over when my year ends in early December - so if you're coming up to 60....

Task 43: Create a painting using potato printing

This may seem a slightly odd choice but when I was getting a bit stuck for ideas, my friend Pauline suggested I think about whatever I'd really enjoyed doing years ago, and see whether I could create a new challenge incorporating it. Instantly I said "potato printing". I'd loved it the one time we'd had a go at school using newspaper and saucers of powdered paint, when I was about six, and had never tried it since. When we came to live in Ham over 20 years ago, I went round to the little local library and noticed that one of the events coming up was potato printing - wonderful! It was being run by the Hamster group, so I asked if I could join. The librarian looked a little puzzled and asked if I had any children. It seemed rather a personal question but I said no and looked at her eagerly, waiting for my joining instructions. She explained that the maximum age was 12.

Anyway, now was my opportunity and as I like painting, I decided to combine the two and set myself the task of producing a painting based on potato printing. As I couldn't remember how to do it, I did a lot of googling and found that all the advice was for young primary school children. Very irresponsible, I thought, letting them loose with knives (hopefully not their own) - even with the instruction to ask teacher to help you. The exception was a women's project in Africa, where they make really striking fabrics using sweet potato prints and sell them to generate income for their families.

I set to with a combination of large and small potatoes, pastry cutters and a sharp knife. The cutters included a couple shaped like a star and a chicken, which seemed worth a try, and I used the knife to start carving out veined leaves:

I was quite pleased with the leaves, mainly because I'd managed to preserve the margins and resist the temptation to make all the veins identical, but my chickens didn't resemble anything living. The star was a possibility, but it seemed rather unimaginative. With autumn approaching, I thought it would be best to focus on the leaves alone and use seasonal colours - burnt sienna, raw sienna, cadmium yellow and olive green. To provide plenty of body, I used acrylic paints, blending them thickly into the potato surfaces, and heavy duty watercolour paper.

My hope was that a sheet of printed leaves might be sufficient, when framed, to fulfil the challenge. It was clear, though, that it wouldn't as there was no focal point - just foliage. Maybe I needed to change tack and go for something much more unusual, using tiny coloured glass beads either glued (crushed or whole) onto a canvas or stitched on through and around the paper leaves, with swirls to suggest movement and autumn winds. In my mind I could see it. The fact that I'd never tried anything like it before was exciting. It was also completely naff, so I reluctantly put away my pristine glue gun and stared at the blank canvas.

If the lack of a focal point was a problem, perhaps it would be better to scale down and go for a simple row of leaves, set against a vibrant watercolour background. This - with luck - would suggest autumn as a theme without having to create a specific image. So, next step was to paint the background:

Then I had to choose a few leaves out of the thirty or so I'd made, and try them out in different positions to see what worked best:

Finally there was the gluing, mounting and framing, using supplies from my existing stock:

To be honest it doesn't look great - rather like a child's effort which a proud parent has framed, where the background is the best part - but maybe in the right setting it would look a little more accomplished. The surplus leaves work quite well as gift tags, with green raffia, so they won't go to waste. As for potato printing, I think I've now got it out of my system - though I am tempted to have a go with it on plain heavy cotton, to create tea towels or possibly a tote bag. Just not any time soon....

Task 18: Visit a country I've never been to before

It's always interesting visiting a country for the first time and I enjoyed asking friends which one they'd suggest. One, who owns an independent travel agency and is extremely well travelled, urged us to consider the Faroe Islands. Not surprisingly, given my wayward sense of geography, they aren't at all where I thought they were (somewhere nestling quietly in a sheltered spot of water just off Denmark), but are way up north of Scotland between Norway and Iceland. The climate is unappealing, museums and cultural entertainment are thin on the ground - the total population is less than 50,000 - and the clincher is the food. I just don't go for the idea of blubber, sheep's head or fermented colon on sauerkraut. 

As we didn't have much free time, it needed to be a short haul destination and preferably somewhere with a chance of fine weather. I was keen on Denmark, although technically I went there last year as we'd had to fly to Lithuania via Copenhagen, or possibly Norway as the train journey by the fjords and then over the mountains sounded attractive. Poland was high on the list until some Polish friends warned that September has quite high rainfall. A few weeks ago we were chatting to someone from Romania and he was saying how sunny and warm it is there at this time of year, and how much there is to see and do. Its recent history, leading to the fall of Ceausescu and beyond, is interesting and the food sounded reasonable. Decision taken, we booked flights and four nights in a hotel in Bucharest.

The next week we told our Romanian friend we were going, expecting him to be pleased. Instead he looked aghast. What was wrong? "I hate Bucharest. I hate it." It seemed to be pretty much the only part of the country he disliked. The problem was that it's a city, with no mountains or rural villages, and no soul. Oh well, it was too late to change our minds and at least he said the food should be OK, with a strong French and Mediterranean influence.

We had a smooth journey to Heathrow by bus and tube, and checked that the boarding gate hadn't been announced before settling down to a cappuccino and almond croissant. Unfortunately the time between boarding and gate closing was a matter of minutes - and we hadn't realised there was a transit train involved. When we reached the gate there was no sign of any other passengers and it was only 10 minutes to take-off. Luckily people were still standing inside the plane, arguing about luggage space, so we were able to shuffle into our seats without getting any hard stares.

The bus journey from the airport to the centre of Bucharest took nearly two hours, as the traffic was almost gridlocked, and we then had to walk a couple of miles to the hotel. It was hot - the weather was gloriously sunny and the temperature in the low 30s the whole time we were there - and I was feeling frazzled and grumpy by the time we eventually arrived. My mood swiftly improved when we were offered a glass of prosecco by the charming desk staff and found that our room was air conditioned and huge, with 3 ante rooms, separate shower and basin rooms, a bar area and a comfortable king sized bed.

Having unpacked and taken our bearings, we set off for a recommended restaurant, looking forward to a relaxing dinner. Having read lots of Trip Advisor reviews of Bucharest, I wasn't surprised that the service was fairly dismal. It wasn't as tardy as in Cuba, where - as the Lonely Planet guide book noted, you can expect to be served only when all possible topics of conversation between the staff have been exhausted - but it wasn't exactly speedy or cordial. We found this was true of most of the restaurants we tried, although everyone else we came across was very friendly and went out of their way to be helpful.

On the Friday morning, buoyed up by a substantial breakfast and excellent coffee (the Romanians take coffee seriously, to the extent that even in Starbucks you are asked if you would prefer light or dark roasted beans), we caught the metro and then walked a mile to the Cotroceni Palace. We'd tried ringing and emailing the day before to check it was open but couldn't get any reply, and when we arrived we were told it was closed to non-Romanian speakers until 2.30pm the following day. Not an encouraging start, but we made a booking for the next day and walked to the nearby Botanical Gardens.

Created in 1860, the Gardens contain over 10,000 species of plants and it's a pleasant area to stroll around. I particularly wanted to see the Grandma's Garden, which is intended to represent a traditional Romanian rural vegetable garden and includes a wide variety of vegetables, herbs, flowers, fruit trees and bushes, and medicinal plants. The effect is somewhat diminished by the towers of the neighbouring power plant, which you can glimpse on the right in the photo below:

Moving on, we spotted a bird hide and went to have a closer look. The bird feeder in front of it was empty but the hide itself was well used by the local fly-tippers:

Next on our list was a guided tour of the Palace of Parliament, which we'd booked the previous day. Although Bucharest has a metro system with several lines, there aren't many stops and the distances between them are large. There are a few trolley buses but no information that we could find about destinations or times, so you end up having to walk about six miles a day if you want to see the main sights and rely on the tube. There are ambitious plans to extend the metro but so far these have come to nothing - and with the roads so busy, the disruption during construction would be massive.

Having bolted down a lunch of three nutella-filled croissants (unhealthy but yummy and the only thing available in the Palace cafe) and a bottle of water (amazingly cheap at only 20p a litre in the supermarkets), we joined the group waiting for the tour. The Palace is vast. It's the second-largest administrative building in the world, beaten only by the Pentagon, is the heaviest in the world - weighing in at over 4 billion kg - and has more than 3,000 rooms:

Building started in 1984 and it still isn't quite finished, despite having cost over £4 billion. By the time the tour ended, we were told we'd walked two kilometres and even so, we had seen a mere 4% of the rooms! The security instructions were strict and we were forbidden from taking a photograph of them - for security reasons. However they were irresistible, especially the final injunction, and in a rare moment of wilfulness Peter sneaked a photo:

The scale of the building and the quality of its fittings were impressive. I forget how many million tons of marble were used, but one chandelier alone weighed 5 tons and four men can fit inside it, to change light bulbs and clean the crystal (visions of Dell Boy came to mind):

We were allowed to walk out onto the Presidential balcony and admire the view:

Nicolae Ceausescu had intended to use it to make Presidential addresses to the populace but was executed before the balcony was completed. Michael Jackson famously made his mark on the city by speaking to crowds of adoring fans from it, with "Hello Budapest!" as his opening gambit. Oops. These days only about 30% of the Palace is used by the Romanian Parliament and the annual running costs simply for heating and lighting are some £4 million. They manage to recoup roughly half of this through the guided tours and - more recently - by offering rooms as venues for wedding receptions, meetings, film sets, etc. Apparently the majority of Romanians regard the building more as a reminder of the oppressive regime under Ceausescu, than as a source of national pride. That isn't surprising, given the huge cost of its construction at a time when the country was close to starvation.

After the tour, we decided to visit some of the churches and monasteries within walking distance. Although religion was heavily discouraged during the Communist period, and a number of churches were either demolished or moved to areas where they would be hidden by concrete high rise housing blocks, it wasn't banned. One of the most attractive from the outside is the tiny Stavropoleos Church:

We thought the most striking was the Antim Monastery, built in 1715 within a walled complex:

Its interior is equally beautiful:

As we walked around, we gained the impression of the city as being a mixture of rather lovely old buildings cheek by jowl with ugly Communist blocks, with a surprising amount of graffiti - not political slogans, but the mindless tagging type:

  

There were also some rather eccentric monuments, such as the Rebirth Memorial, which looks like a bird's nest on a stick:

In a similar vein there is the statue of Emperor Trajan outside the National History Museum, standing naked and holding a Dacian wolf, although the wolf appears to be levitating and its head is weirdly joined to the tail of another creature:

Bucharest has its own Arc de Triomphe, initially built in wood after Romania gained its independence in 1878 from the Ottoman Empire. A second temporary version was built after the First World War and the current one was inaugurated in 1936:

Given the statue of Charles de Gaulle and some of the street names, it's easy to see the French influence on the city, which is sometimes referred to as Little Paris. In the nineteenth century the sons of wealthy families used to go to Paris to complete their education and French became the second language of Romania (now largely displaced by English). According to our Romanian friend, the food also reflects this influence but I can't say I noticed it. "Hearty" and meat-orientated seemed to be its main characteristics.

By this time we were ready for dinner and we made our way to Caru' cu Bere, Bucharest's oldest beer house with a stylish belle-epoque interior and fine stained glass windows. Our problem was gaining access. We'd taken the precaution of booking an upstairs table by email before we left the UK but no-one had any record of this and, while we were told there were no free tables, others who turned up without any bookings were being told they could come in - and to the prized upstairs spaces. Irritated as much by the attitude of the staff as the prospect of not being fed, we became very un-British and insisted on being accommodated, marching up to the balcony area while the waitresses just shrugged. Once settled with some wine and an excellent view of all the action - including, later on, tango dancers whirling around in tails and pink satin, dodging trays of beer being carried aloft - we relaxed and enjoyed the evening:

Despite having resolved beforehand that we wouldn't try to pack too much in, but would relax and simply stroll around absorbing the atmosphere, there were so many places we were keen to see that we ended up cramming a lot in - particularly as it seemed unlikely we'd visit Bucharest again, so we wanted to make the most of the opportunity. After another excellent breakfast, we headed off to the Theodor Aman Museum, which is the beautifully restored residence of this nineteenth century Romanian painter, engraver, musician, wood carver and art professor. We particularly admired the portrait of his wife:

and the attention to detail in the log basket he carved:

We moved on to the Museum of the History of Bucharest, which sounds a bit dry but is actually very appealing. It's housed in the Sutu Palace, one of the oldest aristrocratic residences in the city and one of the few that has remained virtually unchanged for over 150 years. Its heyday was in the second half of the nineteenth century, when the first ball of each year took place there, in February. The Sutu family entertained in style, specialising in high society parties and balls, and the impressive entrance staircase with its huge mirror gives a flavour of their style:

The clock that you can see was specially designed so that guests would see the correct time in the mirror above them. Here it is "in the flesh" on the opposite wall:

Although the Museum is quite small, there's a great deal to see and I was so absorbed reading about Romania's independence from the Ottoman Empire and its period as a kingdom before coming under Communist control at the end of the Second World War, that I missed out on the displays of old photographs, costumes, sewing baskets, etc (though I did see the penny farthing, and Peter very obligingly took photos of anything else he thought I'd find interesting). It would have made more sense to have done the reverse, as I could have googled the history later, but by then I was thoroughly confused about references to a kingdom and wanted to be able to set what I was seeing in context. As the Museum leaflet  explained, the Communist regime took total control on 30 December 1947 when King Mihai I was forced to renounce the throne. This "was the moment Romania entered an ample process of sovietisation".  Irony or a quirky translation?

I was reluctant to move on, but we needed to get to the Cotroceni Palace in time for the guided tour. The Palace dates from the late nineteenth century and is the official residence of the Romanian President. It was designed as the Bucharest royal family home for Romania's first king, Carol I, by a French architect and is elegant without having any sense of warmth. The staircase sets the tone:

King Carol and his wife were under pressure to produce an heir and when none was forthcoming, an outstandingly tactless gift was made, to encourage their efforts:

Apparently it was never used in their lifetime.

As we made our way back to the hotel for a relaxing dinner, we pondered the evening ahead. At home, I'd read in the Lonely Planet guide book that the Athenaeum in Bucharest is exquisite and "the majestic heart of Romania's classical music tradition". It is also normally open during concerts. Happily September is the month of the George Enescu International Festival in the city, so there seemed a reasonable chance of being able to attend a concert there. When we tried booking from the UK, most of the events for that weekend were sold out, but there was one that started at 10.30pm and sounded promising - The Musical Voyages of Marco Polo, performed by the En Chordais and Constantinople Ensembles, using old traditional instruments. We managed to get tickets and were looking forward to it.

The day we arrived in the city, however, we'd bumped into a group of cyclists and one had told us that on the Saturday evening there would be a huge video imaging and pop concert in the open air - a relatively new event that happens only once a year there. We hoped we might be able to go to that first, but when we reached the venue - which was filling rapidly - we found out that the video part, which sounded spectacular, wouldn't start until much later. At least we saw part of the pop concert, which was great, and the Parliament building lit up ready for the fantastic light show to come:

Rather regretfully we made our way to the Athenaeum, to a very different experience. The building was certainly magnificent and it was as well we saw the foyer ceiling, as that was nearly the sum total of our time there:

We were in a hurry as the concert was about to start and one of the ticket stewards initially refused to let us through, as he claimed that the email tickets we had printed out at home from the official Athenaeum website were merely an indication of purchase via a third party and not sufficient to permit entry. We were hot, tired and fed up, and Peter started losing his temper. I could see us being ejected, so I said we needed the loo and marched us both downstairs, in the hope of finding someone more amenable when we reappeared. Not very dignified, but it worked. 

The staircase, as we beetled past, was as impressive as the foyer:

We needn't have worried about being late, as plenty of people arrived after us and there was no sign of either ensemble for quite a while. While Peter muttered about the empty seats and how we could probably have bought tickets on the door (the set-to with the steward still rankled) I did some people-watching:

Eventually the concert started and Peter really enjoyed it, especially the Mongolian throat singer. I was much less keen, but still I was glad we went as it was an unusual experience and one we weren't likely to have again.

The next morning was in some ways the highlight of the trip, with a guided tour of the former Ceausescu Residence, which was first opened to the public last year. Like most people we'd heard about the opulent living quarters of the family, with no expense spared while most Romanians were barely surviving, and were curious to see it at first hand. What surprised us was how few Bucharest citizens seemed to be aware of it. It's known now as the Spring Palace but even that name was mostly met with blank stares. Maybe it's symptomatic of a wish to forget about that bleak period of their history.

The villa, which was built in the mid-1960s, has been restored to the state it was in when the Ceausescus lived there, including the original bed linen, their night clothes on either side of the bed, and some of the 40 or so wardrobes in their dressing room open to display the vast number of Elena's dresses. The family, including their two sons and one daughter, lived there for about 20 years until they were toppled in December 1989. One of the sons, who is now an atomic scientist, still lives in Bucharest but keeps a low profile and has declined an invitation to visit the villa, preferring to regard that part of his life as completely finished.

The guide, who spoke excellent English, described the background of Nicolae and Elena, their rise to power, his increasing megalomania and their eventual overthrow and execution by firing squad on Christmas Day 1989. Born in 1918, he - and she - were educated only to primary school level. He was a member of the Romanian Communist youth movement and rose through the ranks, becoming leader and General Secretary of the Party in 1965. I hadn't realised that he eased press censorship and openly condemned the invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1968, becoming the darling of the West and receiving numerous honours from many European countries, including the UK.

Within only a few years his regime changed drastically, becoming one of the most repressive in Eastern Europe. His visits to countries like North Korea fostered a taste for absolute power and a personality cult, with a Stalinist approach to any dissent, however mildly expressed. It was striking, for example, that at a time when the Romanian economy was in such dire straits that broadcast TV had been cut to only 2 hours a day, of which 15 minutes was for children's programmes and the rest for propaganda, the villa contained a basement cinema with the latest sound system. He was particularly fond of Westerns, especially John Wayne, and would get a film sent in every day for the family to enjoy in the evening:

Elena developed a passion for porcelain dinner services and the dining room table settings are changed every month to display some of them:

Each of the three children had their own apartments within the villa, and Elena had her own for taking a rest during the day, as well as the one she shared with Nicolae. All are very ornately furnished and it's hard to imagine a teenage boy relishing the decor:

As well as a sizeable garden outside, there is a winter garden upstairs. This was a particular extravagance, given that the average Romanian would have to cope with an indoor temperature of 60 degrees at best:

The bathrooms were all state of the art in bling and gold - although contrary to popular belief, the taps are apparently painted, not real gold.

The family must have been unusually clean, as the villa also contains an extensive "health" area, including a room with multiple shower heads of varying power, a large sauna, a manicure and pedicure station, a rather sinister looking jacuzzi and a steam bath unit that reminded me of the scene where James Bond gets locked inside one that is then set to lobster boiling temperature:

The emphasis on health and fitness continued with the stunning swimming pool, complete with superb mosaic walls:

Leaving the villa, we opted for a complete contrast by going to the National Village Museum, an open air collection of several dozen domestic dwellings, churches, mills and windmills relocated from rural Romania and set in Heraustrau Park, by the lake. It turned out to be rather a letdown, as hardly any of the buildings were open and the information provided was minimal at best. The traditional clothing was worth seeing, as was the church made entirely - and very unusually - from wood, the old chapel next to a building being re-thatched, and the carved wooden sleigh outside the vintner's house made for carrying a large barrel of wine :

On the whole, though, I'd recommend giving this a miss if you're in Bucharest and have limited time. 

The next morning - our last there - we decided to visit the Choral Temple, which is the city's main working synagogue. We were given a rapid but comprehensive talk about the history of the Romanian Jews in the twentieth century and of the synagogue itself. Although many of them served in the First World War, it wasn't until 1923 that they could gain citizenship and almost half of the 800,000 or so living in Romania had been killed by the end of the Second World War. 

Extremely harsh treatment continued under Communist rule. During the Ceausescu period there was mass emigration to Israel, with Jews being allowed to leave in return for a payment per individual by the Israeli government, plus support for projects in Romania. The size of the payment depended on their perceived value to the Romanian economy, so the younger, more highly educated Jews - doctors, engineers etc - cost more. Now there are only just over 3,000 left in the whole of the country. 

The synagogue itself is visually stunning inside. As it is Orthodox, there is separation between the sexes, with women using the upstairs. However those who are too frail to climb the stairs are allowed to use the ground floor, with curtains that can be pulled across to preserve the division:

We stayed to hear the speaker sing during a brief celebration with a group of visiting Spanish Jews, having read on Trip Advisor that he has a wonderful voice. He does and we were privileged to hear it.

Walking around the city afterwards before lunch and leaving for the airport, we noticed two other things that were distinctive. One was a style of building we hadn't seen anywhere else before but which we saw in a few streets - a very tall art nouveau type of apartment building, with a top floor that consisted of rather Roman-looking facade with nothing behind it:

The other was the huge spaghetti tangle of wires on lamp posts, which was quite commonplace and a reminder that Romania still has some way to go in developing its economic infrastructure:

One word of caution. If you're thinking of going to Bucharest - and I'd certainly recommend it - you might want to consider the timing. It's an area prone to severe earthquakes, causing heavy casualties. Over 11,000 people were injured in the last one, in 1977, which measured 7.2 on the Richter scale. They tend to come every 35 years, so the next one is now overdue....