Task 48: Watch all the films nominated for 2017 Oscar Best Picture

I've always loved going to the cinema. The moment the lights go down, you enter a different world. Even watching the Pearl and Dean advertisements that were so old and worn they almost crackled with age, was sheer pleasure. That feeling of anticipation is still there, although these days I tend to watch films on the television at home, now that TV screens are so much larger and cinema tickets so expensive. The exception is when we go to South Africa, where even the best seats cost only a few pounds, especially during the daytime. If it's hot outside, the air conditioning is a pleasant relief and on the rare occasions when it rains, it's the perfect way of spending the late morning before heading off for a delicious lunch somewhere.

It seemed appropriate, then, to include a film-related challenge and I remembered that the girl in the basement flat in Camps Bay, where we rented for a while, used to have an Oscars party every year. I also realised that I'd never seen all the films nominated for Best Picture in any one year. There were always some that didn't appeal to me and I'd give them a miss. As Peter and I wait until we go to South Africa in January before watching any new films, it meant that by my 60th birthday last December I hadn't seen any that had been nominated. Having the challenge of watching all nine was definitely appealing.

Fortunately films tend to be shown a bit later in the Cape than in London, so there was a good chance they'd still be available when we arrived. The order in which I watched them - Lion, LaLa Land, Manchester by the Sea, Moonlight, Hidden Figures, Fences, Arrival, Hacksaw Ridge, and Hell or High Water - was largely determined by how soon they were likely to disappear. 

The first was Lion. The scenery was spectacular, especially the coasts and forests of Tasmania, although it did occasionally feel like a tourism promo. I thought it was well acted and the scenes of destitution in India, particularly of the children and their vulnerability to appalling abuse - and their resilience - were moving. Overall though I felt the story was too slow-paced and it was hard to sustain interest in the main character's emotional torment and how it might be resolved. Luckily I hadn't seen the trailer, otherwise there would have been even less suspense as it's quite a spoiler.

The next day we went to see LaLa Land. I'm not all that keen on filmed musicals and I particularly disliked the opening sequence of this one. Set on the LA highway, with hundreds of people stuck in a massive traffic jam suddenly breaking into song and dance - complete with a bicycle and a skate board - it set the tone of artificiality without charm. On the other hand I thought the use of colour was magnificent throughout the film, including the dresses, outdoor scenes, parties and gardens. The jewel-like intensity was effectively contrasted with the relatively subdued palette used for the scenes between the two main characters, Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone. His piano playing was really impressive and I thought her acting in the scene where she is auditioning for a part and has to cover a huge range of emotions convincingly, was superb.

I found the first half pretty boring and felt no involvement with the story, but then it came alive when Gosling joined the new style of jazz music, which was much more tuneful and energising. As his and Emma Stone's characters began to face their personal dilemmas and acquired more depth, their development became more engrossing and the music took a back seat. It struck me as a rather curious film of two halves - more than any other film I've seen.

The next film, Manchester by the Sea, could hardly have been more different. I'd assumed it was the English Manchester - my geography is wayward at best, and although I've been there a number of times some years ago, I'd forgotten it's inland. That had shaped my expectations of what the film might be about and I was bracing myself for rain and general greyness. Instead it was set partly in snowy Boston and mainly in the small coastal town of Manchester, an hour and a half's drive north. The coastal scenery was very attractive, albeit rather bleak at times. This and the elegiac music reflected the sadness and sense of loss and guilt that pervades the film. The acting by Casey Affleck and the 20 year old Lucas Hedges who played his 16 year old nephew was excellent, and I thought Affleck's Best Actor award was well deserved.

Having seen the trailer, I definitely wouldn't have watched Moonlight if it hadn't been part of the challenge. The trailer was really off putting and did the film no favours at all, showing an American black drug dealer with gold teeth and huge muscles, mumbling almost inaudibly and trying to come to terms with being gay. And it would have been such a shame not to have seen the film, as it was excellent. The acting was first-rate, with sensitive and finely nuanced performances. The only part where I struggled to understand what was being said was the section used in the trailer. There was no sentimentality, nor any unnecessary violence, and the themes of being gay and black, bullying and drug addiction were well handled and thought provoking. 

Hidden Figures sounded interesting, portraying the true life story of three African American women with an exceptional talent for maths, who each played an important part at NASA in the first US manned orbit of the moon at a time when racism was rife and segregation still applied in Virginia. It could have been absorbing but for me it was marred by its sentimentality. It made one think that the contribution made by the women had been exaggerated in the film, which did them a disservice as they genuinely were remarkable. Many of the "facts" had indeed been falsified for dramatic effect - for example the lavatories in the main building were not segregated and there was no question of the black women having to trek a kilometre or so to the nearest one available to them. There seemed nothing Oscar-worthy about the film and it could have been so much better.

Fences was originally a play which took years to be filmed, apparently because the author would agree to this only if the director were black. Eventually Denzel Washington not only directed but produced and starred in it too. The subject matter was fairly bleak, depicting the life of a black refuse collector in Pittsburgh who can't come to terms with past disappointments and repeats the cycle with his own wife and children. It was well acted but I found it rather tedious.

This was the last of the films on the list that I was able to see in South Africa, as the others were no longer on the circuit. I wondered whether any of the remaining three might be available to watch on the plane home and was delighted to find they all were. As it was an overnight flight and I don't usually get much sleep then anyway, all I had to do was stay awake all night and I could complete another challenge!  I decided to start with Arrival, as I'm not keen on sci-fi or fantasy, so having to watch it in less than ideal conditions wouldn't bother me. Also I could get it out of the way and then enjoy the other two, which looked more promising.

Ironically I found it so boring, I simply couldn't keep my eyes open. I ended up having to watch large chunks of it several times while I tried to work out where I'd dropped off - which did at least chime with the surreal aspect of the film and its emphasis on non-linear time. By contrast the critics rated it very highly. Catherine Shoard in the Guardian, for example, described it as "by far the most thoughtful release this year. It informs and explores ideas subconsciously common to us all about our interplay with language, and the past and the future.... Everyone, everything seems elevated by a movie about which there is something intangible, miraculous". 

That's all very well, but it isn't easy to suspend disbelief when the main character is a young woman who is not only an expert linguist chosen to try to communicate with aliens that have landed simultaneously in 12 space ships across the world (including Montana), but who also happens to have the gift of being able to see the future. By the time we landed at Heathrow I was thoroughly fed up with her earnestness and courage, armed only with a clip board and a felt tip, in the face of aliens that looked like vaguely menacing hoover attachments.

Fortunately Hacksaw Ridge was a complete contrast. Although I had to watch it on DVD rather than on the big screen, our television is quite large (every time his son upgrades, Peter yearns to do the same) and I didn't feel the experience was impaired as a result. It's a scarcely believable but true story about a young American man - Desmond Doss - who is a Seventh Day Adventist and won't touch or carry a rifle, but who enlists to serve as a medic in the war after Pearl Harbour. When, during basic training, his commanding officers fail to break his resolve not to touch a weapon, he is really put through the mill and eventually court martialled for refusing to obey orders. In the end the court martial is abandoned and he goes on to serve as a combat medic with exceptional courage, especially at Hacksaw Ridge in the battle of Okinawa, where he saves the lives of 75 wounded men, despite being under intense fire and having been injured.

The extremely graphic battle scenes were very effective but I thought they went on too long and there were also some jarring sentimental incidents. That apart, it's a remarkable film and all the more so for being largely accurate. It includes interview recordings at the end with the real Desmond Doss, who died in 2006 aged 87, and with a few of the other key figures. It seems hard to believe that any of them could have survived such carnage - although Doss was classified as 90% disabled after the war. 

Interestingly Mel Gibson, the director, decided not to include some events which really did happen, as he thought the audience wouldn't find them credible. In reality, for example, after Doss had been seriously injured by a grenade which he had kicked away from himself and the 3 other men in his foxhole, he was eventually rescued and was being carried on a stretcher under heavy fire when he noticed a severely wounded soldier lying on the ground. He rolled off the stretcher to attend to the soldier, and gave him his place - and was then shot by a Japanese sniper, shattering his left arm. He only survived by crawling 300 yards through intense gunfire, at last reaching an aid station and relative safety.

The last of the nine, Hell or High Water, I also had to watch on DVD as it was no longer on at any cinemas. Having Jeff Bridges as one of the key actors was a strong point in its favour, even if it did mean having to use the subtitles, and the striking New Mexico scenery (although the story is set in Texas) was an added attraction. It's a sort of cross between a Western and a bank heist film, with an emotional twist and an appealingly dry humour. The ending is ambiguous, with two of the surviving main characters agreeing to meet to "finish the conversation". I wondered whether this pointed towards a sequel but it seems more likely that it was simply a neat way of drawing it to a close. Although it's nowhere near the all-time great standard, I enjoyed it.

While we were in South Africa, as the day of the Oscars approached, Peter and I found ourselves rooting for different films. We agreed that LaLa Land (the apparent front-runner) shouldn't win but he favoured Manchester by the Sea, while I was a fan of Moonlight - the film I'd least wanted to watch. Honour was satisfied for both of us, as Moonlight won Best Film and Casey Affleck won Best Actor.

I'm very glad I included this as one of the 60 challenges, particularly as it meant I watched films I wouldn't otherwise have bothered with and - at least in the case of Moonlight - found them far more interesting that I'd expected. I plan to watch all nine nominated films next year too, as I've found it so worthwhile and enjoyable. If it means having to sit through a few I don't relish, I think it's worth it. 

Task 46: Use YouTube to learn how to package and present things attractively

This idea came from my friend Pauline, who has an eye for attractive presentation and display. I was explaining that although I enjoy making jewellery, I struggle with the marketing and presentation. She alerted me to the number of videos on YouTube on how to wrap and present gifts, including the art of Japanese wrapping, which I'd never heard of before. The thought of being surrounded by pretty paper, ribbons and boxes, and learning how to use them imaginatively, was instantly appealing and this challenge went straight on the list.

What I should have realised is that unless you are naturally deft and spatially aware, it takes time and practice to acquire this skill. That's why this post is appearing now instead of last Christmas, which was when I enthusiastically set to with my sellotape and scissors - though you might find that hard to believe when you see the photos of the end results, below. I've always enjoyed wrapping presents and Christmas seemed the perfect opportunity to polish off this task. Well, I tried. And failed.

YouTube certainly has a wealth of videos on the subject and by the time the carol singers appeared, I felt as though I'd watched most of them. Who knew there were so many ways of tying bows, pleating paper, creating little envelopes in the surface of the paper to hold charming sprigs of yew or berries, etc? Double-sided sellotape seemed to be essential. Ditto wire edged, rather than ordinary, ribbon if you wanted it to hold its shape once you'd twisted it into a mass of frills or rosettes. Clearly a shopping trip was required.

Have you ever tried used double-sided sellotape? It's a menace. I ended up with bits in my hair, stuck to my clothing, and pretty much everywhere except where I wanted. I also discovered it won't stick to ribbon, nor take much pressure without suddenly losing its adhesive properties. Making a rosette out of little pieces of ribbon was a nightmare. As fast as I stuck them together, they pinged apart. I tried stapling the centre sections to provide a working base, but that only worked for the first layer. After that, the stapler simply squashed any additions. After two hours, I grimly chucked the whole lot in the bin and gave up on the idea of making rosettes - even though they looked so easy on the video clips.

My hairdresser strongly recommended paper pleating - much beloved of the Japanese, apparently - so I thought I'd give that a go. She assured me it was a doddle, once you'd got the hang of it. The main problem I found, which applied to most of my efforts with this particular challenge, was that I couldn't find a way of pausing the YouTube video to allow me to absorb the information and try it out, before moving on to the next stage. Nor could I get it to rewind without going right back to the beginning. As a result there were three that I must have watched literally scores of times, and still without being able to retain the key images in my mind. It was interesting realising how poor my visual memory is, but not helpful.

Eventually I produced two wrapped gifts that I thought passed muster. I'd decided I should produce at least 3 decent samples using different techniques - originally I'd envisaged more, until I realised it was much more challenging than I'd expected - and at least now I was two-thirds of the way through. One I asked Peter to photograph for me (I don't have a camera, apart from the one on my phone). It looked quite striking, with the central section in pleated blue and gold paper and a small gold bow at the top right. The other I gave to a friend without remembering to take a photo first, so that was a write-off from the point of view of the blog. Time to give it a rest and turn to something else.

When we returned from South Africa at the end of March, I thought I should unearth the sellotape and renew my efforts. To remind myself that I had already accomplished a third of this task, I decided to write up the beginning of the blog post. I needed the photograph Peter had taken, but couldn't find it anywhere. It turned out he'd had a major clear-out of his camera, to release more memory, and my photo was no more. So I was back to square one, with nothing to show for all those hours of frustration.

As the pleating had been moderately successful, I had another go at that and was reasonably happy with the result:

Perhaps a box would be a good idea, using tissue paper and ribbon inside? From the video it looked almost childishly simple. All I had to do was measure the ribbon, place it inside the box with the ends hanging over the sides, scrunch up some paper to line the base, lay some folded tissue paper over the top with the ends flowing over the sides of the box, place my gift on top, fold the ends of the paper over the top, pick up the two ends of ribbon and tie a bow, and put the lid on. Easy. Except it wasn't. 

The presenter had commented, almost as an aside, that she folded the tissue paper so that it was only slightly narrower than the box. That seemed entirely sensible but not at all easy to do, without leaving marks in the paper as I kept trying to get the measurement right - and also bearing in mind that it looks neater if you don't have any raw edges. The scrunched up paper took up too much space, so I had to keep removing bits. When it came to folding the tissue paper over the top of the gift, it wouldn't lie flat (not surprisingly, as - unlike the object in the video - the gift was bobbly). Finally when it came to tying the ribbon, I found it wasn't long enough, even though I'd taken the precaution of allowing quite a bit more than the 10cm that the presenter had said would be enough for tying the bow. There was nothing for it but to dismantle the whole thing and start again.

In the end it looked quite pretty but nothing like the effortlessly elegant gift featured in the video:

For my third offering, I thought I should try tackling an awkwardly shaped object. A hexagonally shaped jar of marmalade seemed ideal. Unfortunately I couldn't find a video that addressed this (and now I know why). Still, I reckoned it would work if I combined the instruction on wrapping cylinders with the one on dealing with pentangles. Both of these were covered in a Japanese video on YouTube. All I had to do was measure the paper accurately, fold over any raw edges, make a series of interweaving pleats at the top and base of the jar, and tuck in the final flap of paper without needing any sellotape.

I think it might have been less of a failure if I'd taken more care with the measurements. They really do need to be spot on, and mine weren't, so the pleats didn't all meet in the centre. Also if you're going to rely on making crisp triangular pleats with one hand while holding and slowly rotating the jar in the other, you need paper that has some body. Mine was from IKEA and it didn't. It couldn't tolerate that degree of manipulation without wrinkling and creasing. The end result was a complete mess, even with the addition of some sellotape to stop the pleats unravelling. Fortunately the friend I gave it to is someone with a zest for life who rips presents open without pausing to notice the packaging:

One upside of this experience was that I decided to invest in some decent quality wrapping paper. I spent a happy hour or so browsing in John Lewis and came home equipped with two rolls of paper, two rolls of coloured raffia, some wire-edged ribbon and funky gift tags. Now I was ready for business. 

My birthday present for Pauline was a nest of Joseph measuring cups in a box - she's an accomplished cook who loves baking - and I was keen to show her what I'd learned, especially as it had been her idea in the first place. I knew she liked the Japanese style of wrapping, so I decided to opt for that but with the extra challenge of creating a diagonal "envelope pouch" on the top, into which you can tuck a gift tag - or a sprig of herbs or something similar. The John Lewis paper was a vast improvement and at last I'd worked out how to use the pause and rewind facilities on my iPad. It was going reasonably well until the very last stage, and I'd even managed not to use any sellotape, but then the instructions rather petered out and the video finished in a whirl of dexterous Japanese fingers twisting the box this way and that, tucking in stray angles of paper and producing a perfect package. No matter how often I replayed that section, I couldn't see how it was done.

I did my best, which wasn't good enough, but the attractive paper helped take the eye away from the flaws and it did feature a diagonal envelope, as planned. Earlier in the year I'd had a go at the potato printing challenge and although I hadn't produced anything suitable for a painting, I'd kept the leaf shapes as I thought I might be able to do something with them. It occurred to me that I could cut one out and use it as a gift tag, with a twist of the raffia. Pauline generously awarded me 9 out of 10 - she's a kind friend - and we were both happy:

                             

Despite the frustrations, I enjoyed this challenge and would be interested in attending a present wrapping workshop - or better still, having a session with a patient friend who has the skill and can teach me. I used to think it was the object itself that mattered, not how it was presented, but I now believe it really does make a difference if it looks visually appealing and tempting. There's so much scope for creativity once you've mastered the various techniques - and then it can be fun.

Task 58: Go to a games cafe and join a game

Until I started thinking about possible challenges to include, I hadn't realised there was such a thing as games cafes - and I certainly wasn't aware there was one in Richmond. I've always loved playing board games, as long as they don't require too much strategic thinking. For me the essence is fun with some thought required, so the outcome doesn't just depend on luck, but I don't have the patience for chess or games like Risk. Even draughts is so low on my list, I'd probably rather not play at all than have to settle for that. Anything that involves colour, words, general knowledge and imagination is what I go for.

My brother is the complete opposite, and Peter isn't keen on board games at all - he much prefers watching sport on television - so I've always been rather short of people to play with, especially as most games need at least 4 players. The idea of a cafe full of people wanting to play seemed perfect, except that when I looked at the website of The Library Pot in Richmond, they all looked about 40 years younger than me. Although you're meant to be able to join in, I doubted I'd know any of the games they were likely to be playing and I'd stick out like a sore thumb. That's what made this a challenge.

With Peter about to settle down to watch the Wimbledon men's final, I decided the time was right to tackle it. The journey there couldn't have been easier - the 65 bus goes virtually door to door, and is free thanks to the wonderful 60+ travel card - and I was there in about 20 minutes:

Stepping inside, I felt I was entering a different world:

On the left, in the black cocktail dress, is Emily - one of the co-owners and the "hostess". I'd taken the precaution of ringing first, to check that there would definitely be enough people there for me to be able to join in without disrupting anyone's arrangements, and she recognised my voice when I arrived - though on reflection, it was probably more my age than my voice. She was immediately welcoming, introducing me to some groups and making me feel at ease. 

The upstairs is an attractive mixture of large open tables on the right and generous alcoves on the left, all festooned with fairy lights and with the slightly odd addition of an exercise bike in the middle:

The group on the left invited me to join them and as I watched them playing a game that looked like a combination of chess and Risk, I felt rather apprehensive: 

Fortunately it was clear it would have been difficult to join in at that stage and as the unwritten rule is that no-one is left on their own, the lovely Celia from Asturias in northern Spain immediately left the game to set up a new one with me and with Nick, who had also just arrived but has been coming every Sunday for the last few weeks. There are literally hundreds and hundreds of board and card games available, and for the £5 entry fee (waived on Tuesday nights for students and Richmond Card holders), you can stay there for hours without any obligation to have anything to eat or drink.

Nick suggested we could play 3-person chess (yikes!). I explained that although I could play chess, I wasn't keen on it, and I readily accepted Nick's ban on Monopoly. We left it to Celia, who is a regular, to choose something suitable and she selected Dobble. It's a sort of multi-layered Snap, which is curiously addictive. Evidently she had sussed my skill level accurately, albeit somewhat embarrassingly. I was reassured when I won the first game, but after that it was downhill the whole afternoon - but still great fun.

After 3 rounds of Dobble, we decided to be more ambitious and Celia chose Camel Up, a board game which she assured us was simple. To give us more room, Emily suggested we moved downstairs, which also had the advantage of being much cooler. There we were joined by Gareth, a larger than life Welshman with what I could have sworn was an Irish accent - and he was wearing a bright green t-shirt. He's a systems analyst who also runs photography courses and rides a motorbike, with a side car for his dog.

Before long Celia must have been regretting her choice of game, as both Nick and I struggled to grasp the rules. Why could camels move only singly in some cases and in a vertically stacked group in others, and what determined whether the vertical order (and therefore the chances of a particular camel winning) suddenly changed? Gareth, on other hand, had no problem and won hands down both times. I trailed way behind, still wondering whether the white camel might have been a better bet:

Nick had to move on as he was booked to take part in an ongoing marathon of an all-male game - interestingly nearly everyone in the cafe was male - and Mark immediately took his place. We switched to a game called Dixit, again chosen by Celia, which is apparently fairly new to the market. I was told it featured killer rabbits, which sounded tempting. I loved this one, as it involved collections of images and having to second-guess which one might be closest to what the lead player had in mind, allowing for the fact that he/she would be trying to mislead some but not all of us. For most of the game my blue rabbit was bouncing ahead, until Gareth and the others swept into the lead:

After two goes of that, Mark produced another new game which he'd brought with him, called Coup. It required, amongst other things, an ability to lie convincingly and to guess which of the other players might be lying. As usual I came last, but not for want of trying. After all, who would have guessed that as well as my two cards being Ambassadors, Celia also had one - and that it was Mark who was the fibber?  And as for the rugby-shaped Gareth being a Contessa...  I enjoyed it enormously and would love to play it again, but it does need at least 4 players.

By then it was time for me to go home, having stayed twice as long as I'd intended and knowing that Peter would be expecting me for a martini. Although alcohol is available at the Library Pot, most of us were having soft drinks - cardamom tea in my case. Meals are also available and while the men were downing hearty stews and the enviably slim Celia a massive burger and mountains of chips, I succumbed to a slice of chocolate fudge cake. The portion was enormous and it was delicious.

I went upstairs to pay my bill, wondering how they would have kept a note of what I'd had, since I hadn't signed for anything and I'd moved to different tables. Possibly there was a note behind the counter on what the old trout had consumed, but however it was done, in principle everything was noted by your first name. That meant Emily had to remember everyone's name, which she did apparently effortlessly - another friendly touch. 

As I was waiting for the payment to go through, she told me more about the Library Pot, which has only been around since early last year. As well as games (no video games allowed), it has a "meet-up" community with over 1,000 members, most of whom live locally. This offers a range of activities including long walks, which are free, skating, tennis and learning Japanese. If you're in your 20s or 30s, it's an excellent way of meeting new people and having fun.

My only hesitation about returning to the Library Pot is that my skill level is so low, I wouldn't want to spoil the experience for anyone else. Being so much older than all the others really doesn't matter - they simply take you as you are. I do fancy having another go at those killer rabbits...

Task 20: Grow a vegetable

On the whole I enjoy gardening and I like the feeling of being in tune with nature - apart from slugs, worms, stag beetles and most other creepy crawlies. It's satisfying watching something that you've nurtured grow into an attractive plant, or at least survive without too much blight, and add colour and scent to the garden. In principle the same should apply to growing vegetables - arguably more so, as you can eat the produce - but I've always doubted that it's worth the effort. You only have to watch allotment owners staggering under the weight of their courgettes, all of which seem to come on stream at the same time, and eagerly handing out supplies to anyone who doesn't already have more than they need, to wonder why they bother. Maybe if I liked soup it would be different, as I'm perfectly happy to help deal with a superabundance of fruit, but I just can't get excited about loads of bulky and not particularly flavoursome vegetables.

Maybe it was time, though, to see what the attraction was and try it for myself. After all, I had been keenly disappointed when a slug had eaten all my chillies overnight, on the plant I'd bought from the supermarket. (No doubt it too had quite a surprise as it digested its plunder.) On that basis I included growing a vegetable as one of my challenges. In case that slug was out for revenge, I decided to aim for three different types, reckoning that at least one should make it through to harvesting. Having done some googling and asked friends with allotments which were the easiest, bearing in mind I'd be using containers as the soil in our garden is rock hard and almost solid with builders' rubble and tree roots, I settled on baby beetroot, spring onions and potatoes:

I didn't exactly feel like an earth mother as I planted them out in early April, but still there was a definite frisson of excitement. Unfortunately none of my pots was really large enough for the potatoes, so what was meant to be repeated "earthing up" during the growing process, in practice amounted to no more than three small extra coverings before the rim of the pot was overflowing. I'd assumed that the new potatoes grow underneath the ones you plant, so I'd allowed lots of space for that, and by the time I was told it's the other way round, it was too late. Still, something was certainly happening:

Baby beetroot seedlings

Spring onion seedlings

Potato seedling

With daily watering during the dry spells, everything seemed to be flourishing:

I knew I should remove more of the beetroot and spring onion seedlings but I couldn't face taking out more than this, even though it left them clearly overcrowded. A quick death by lifting out or a lingering life of malnourishment? The latter at least held out the possibility of survival and seemed less cruel. Daft, how maternal I was becoming about these vegetables.

Googling about what to expect next - I honestly had no idea - I was pleased to read that the leaves of the baby beetroot were edible and made a pleasant addition to a green salad. What I should have realised was that the leaves were at their peak then, and would proceed to get scorched and wilt. So, an opportunity missed. Meanwhile, however, the plants seemed to be going from strength to strength, and all without any added chemicals of any sort:

Just as one of the potatoes was coming into its prime and flowering, it suffered a bit of a setback. Looking at it one morning I noticed that it seemed to have keeled over and the thick stem was broken. I wondered whether the foxes had knocked it over, although that seemed unlikely as it was very heavy and nothing else had been touched. Then I spotted a large sprinkling of potting compost on the lawn and realised that one of the workmen replacing the leaking conservatory roof must have accidentally hit it with his ladder. He'd bundled the remains back into the pot and presumably hoped for the best. Oh well, at least I had a second potato that was still intact.

Having stupidly thrown away the seed packets and forgotten to make a note of when I'd done the original planting, I wasn't sure when the plants would be ready for harvesting. I knew what the leaves of full grown spring onions look like, so that wasn't a problem, but how could I tell when the potatoes and beetroot were done? Friends advised that I should wait until the potato flowers had disappeared and the leaves shrivelled. As one plant was now broken and horizontal, and the other wasn't looking too chirpy, it wasn't that easy to tell. I took a chance on the beetroot and pulled one up a few days ago. By then it was supposed to be the size of a golf ball. It was only about half that, but we had it as part of a Nutribullet drink and it tasted OK. Today I pulled up a few more for a friend who actually likes beetroot, and they were about right. I proudly displayed them, along with the spring onions she'd agreed to take (by now I was in allotment mode, with too much available all at once):

The big moment came late this afternoon, when I delved under one of the potato plants and was delighted to find 3 healthy looking potatoes. There were more to be dug up, but I only needed three for dinner so I left the rest where they were, ready for another day. I also lifted a baby beetroot - definitely golf ball size - and several spring onions, to go with our salmon:

I was looking forward to savouring the taste of really fresh new potatoes and felt inordinately proud of my haul. However pride cometh, etc, and I must admit they didn't taste any better than average supermarket produce. The spring onions were an improvement on the type we normally buy, as they were slightly milder and very crisp. The baby beetroot disappeared into the Nutribullet so I can't say how it compared to the norm, though the drink tasted fine.

Over the three months it took to produce these vegetables, I derived a great deal of pleasure from watching them grow and they were very little trouble, apart from remembering to water them most days. I now understand why allotment owners are so keen on doing this, despite the doubtful economics and the hassle involved if they aren't on your doorstep. I'd be tempted to give it another go next year, but I think it's only worth it if I can do a deal with someone so that between us - or preferably about four of us - we grow and share a wider range of vegetables. Otherwise I'd simply end up with a glut, at a time when they can be bought easily and cheaply at the Sainsbury's on the corner.

Task 58: Go to a games cafe and join a game

Until I started thinking about possible challenges to include, I hadn't realised there was such a thing as games cafes - and I certainly wasn't aware there was one in Richmond. I've always loved playing board games, as long as they don't require too much strategic thinking. For me the essence is fun with some thought required, so the outcome doesn't just depend on luck, but I don't have the patience for chess or games like Risk. Even draughts is so low on my list, I'd probably rather not play at all than have to settle for that. Anything that involves colour, words, general knowledge and imagination is what I go for. 

My brother is the complete opposite, and Peter isn't keen on board games at all - he much prefers watching sport on television - so I've always been rather short of people to play with, especially as most games need at least 4 players. The idea of a cafe full of people wanting to play seemed perfect, except that when I looked at the website of The Library Pot in Richmond, they all looked about 40 years younger than me. Although you're meant to be able to join in, I doubted I'd know any of the games they were likely to be playing and I'd stick out like a sore thumb. That's what made this a challenge.

With Peter about to settle down to watch the Wimbledon men's final, I decided the time was right to tackle it. The journey there couldn't have been easier - the 65 bus goes virtually door to door, and is free thanks to the wonderful 60+ travel card - and I was there in about 20 minutes:

Stepping inside, I felt I was entering a different world:

On the left, in the black cocktail dress, is Emily - one of the co-owners and the "hostess". I'd taken the precaution of ringing first, to check that there would definitely be enough people there for me to be able to join in without disrupting anyone's arrangements, and she recognised my voice when I arrived - though on reflection, it was probably more my age than my voice. She was immediately welcoming, introducing me to some groups and making me feel at ease. 

The upstairs is an attractive mixture of large open tables on the right and generous alcoves on the left, all festooned with fairy lights and with the slightly odd addition of an exercise bike in the middle:

The group on the left invited me to join them and as I watched them playing a game that looked like a combination of chess and Risk, I felt rather apprehensive: 

Fortunately it was clear it would have been difficult to join in at that stage and as the unwritten rule is that no-one is left on their own, the lovely Celia from Asturias in northern Spain immediately left the game to set up a new one with me and with Nick, who had also just arrived but has been coming every Sunday for the last few weeks. There are literally hundreds and hundreds of board and card games available, and for the £5 entry fee (waived on Tuesday nights for students and Richmond Card holders), you can stay there for hours without any obligation to have anything to eat or drink.

Nick suggested we could play 3-person chess (yikes!). I explained that although I could play chess, I wasn't keen on it, and I readily accepted Nick's ban on Monopoly. We left it to Celia, who is a regular, to choose something suitable and she selected Dobble. It's a sort of multi-layered Snap, which is curiously addictive. Evidently she had sussed my skill level accurately, albeit somewhat embarrassingly. I was reassured when I won the first game, but after that it was downhill the whole afternoon - but still great fun.

After 3 rounds of Dobble, we decided to be more ambitious and Celia chose Camel Up, a board game which she assured us was simple. To give us more room, Emily suggested we moved downstairs, which also had the advantage of being much cooler. There we were joined by Gareth, a larger than life Welshman with what I could have sworn was an Irish accent - and he was wearing a bright green t-shirt. He's a systems analyst who also runs photography courses and rides a motorbike, with a side car for his dog.

Before long Celia must have been regretting her choice of game, as both Nick and I struggled to grasp the rules. Why could camels move only singly in some cases and in a vertically stacked group in others, and what determined whether the vertical order (and therefore the chances of a particular camel winning) suddenly changed? Gareth, on other hand, had no problem and won hands down both times. I trailed way behind, still wondering whether the white camel might have been a better bet:

Nick had to move on as he was booked to take part in an ongoing marathon of an all-male game - interestingly nearly everyone in the cafe was male - and Mark immediately took his place. We switched to a game called Dixit, again chosen by Celia, which is apparently fairly new to the market. I was told it featured killer rabbits, which sounded tempting. I loved this one, as it involved collections of images and having to second-guess which one might be closest to what the lead player had in mind, allowing for the fact that he/she would be trying to mislead some but not all of us. For most of the game my blue rabbit was bouncing ahead, until Gareth and the others swept into the lead:

After two goes of that, Mark produced another new game which he'd brought with him, called Coup. It required, amongst other things, an ability to lie convincingly and to guess which of the other players might be lying. As usual I came last, but not for want of trying. After all, who would have guessed that as well as my two cards being Ambassadors, Celia also had one - and that it was Mark who was the fibber?  And as for the rugby-shaped Gareth being a Contessa...  I enjoyed it enormously and would love to play it again, but it does need at least 4 players.

By then it was time for me to go home, having stayed twice as long as I'd intended and knowing that Peter would be expecting me for a martini. Although alcohol is available at the Library Pot, most of us were having soft drinks - cardamom tea in my case. Meals are also available and while the men were downing hearty stews and the enviably slim Celia a massive burger and mountains of chips, I succumbed to a slice of chocolate fudge cake. The portion was enormous and it was delicious.

I went upstairs to pay my bill, wondering how they would have kept a note of what I'd had, since I hadn't signed for anything and I'd moved to different tables. Possibly there was a note behind the counter on what the old trout had consumed, but however it was done, in principle everything was noted by your first name. That meant Emily had to remember everyone's name, which she did apparently effortlessly - another friendly touch. 

As I was waiting for the payment to go through, she told me more about the Library Pot, which has only been around since early last year. As well as games (no video games allowed), it has a "meet-up" community with over 1,000 members, most of whom live locally. This offers a range of activities including long walks, which are free, skating, tennis and learning Japanese. If you're in your 20s or 30s, it's an excellent way of meeting new people and having fun.

My only hesitation about returning to the Library Pot is that my skill level is so low, I wouldn't want to spoil the experience for anyone else. Being so much older than all the others really doesn't matter - they simply take you as you are. I do fancy having another go at those killer rabbits...

Task 3: Go by boat to the Thames Barrier

Although I admire the Thames Barrier as being both functional and stylish, those sinister metal hoods have always given me the creeps. The idea of getting close to them in a boat rather than on dry land is even more scary, as it would make me feel decidedly vulnerable as they loom closer. Being travel sick, going anywhere by boat is my least favourite form of transport. I can - and have been - sick on shore simply looking at the waves. So for several reasons this trip was not one I was looking forward to.

As Peter and I were at the bus stop, about to set off, I realised I'd forgotten to bring my travel sickness wrist bands and tablets. I couldn't be bothered to go back and get them, and doubted anyway that it was necessary - after all, it was only a river trip, not a voyage on the open sea. Big mistake.

After coffee in Richmond we had an easy journey by tube to Westminster and then straight to the Thames River Services pier. With our travel cards, which give you a 50% reduction, it was remarkably cheap at only £8.50 each for a three hour round trip. Arriving at noon, we had half an hour to wait for the next boat, so plenty of time to ponder what was in prospect and to imbibe the fumes of two river cruisers next to the open door of the waiting room:

At least we had the advantage of being first in the queue and therefore able to choose our seats when we boarded. With no rain forecast and keen to get the best view - if I was going to face the fear of seeing the Barrier up close, I wanted to go the whole hog - we went right to the front, on the upper deck:

There was an entertaining and interesting commentary by one of the crew members all the way there, highlighting how much the Thames riverside has changed in the last 30 years, with massive high-rise housing development - much of it bought by foreign investors. When I was about three and my brother seven, my parents took us on a similar trip and looking at the old cine film, I can see how the docks were still active and the river alive with tugs, barges and other boats plying their trade. Now it's almost deserted, apart from the Clipper water buses and a few river cruisers.

It was fascinating seeing the remaining old buildings from an entirely different perspective and learning more about the role of the Thames in providing transport, trade and employment. Execution Dock provides a grim reminder of criminal justice in the past, while by contrast Helen Mirren has a beautiful Georgian 15 bedroomed house right on the waterfront at Wapping. Not far from there we saw a seal swimming in the river, which was an unexpected pleasure.

The trip would have been enjoyable, if it hadn't been for the prospect of nearing the Barrier and my increasing nausea. By the time we reached Greenwich, I was feeling so travel sick that I asked Peter if he could get me a brandy from the bar, as I'd remembered that my friend Kathy used to find that helped. In my case it didn't. And then I got my first sight of our destination:

It didn't improve as we drew closer. Those gleaming metal hoods were looking increasingly sinister:

At this point my anxiety levels were clearly rising:

Now we were almost alongside and I found it less scary, as I could see more of the construction and how the system worked:

I also reminded myself that many years ago, while I was working in the Industry/Education Unit in the then Department of Trade and Industry, where one of our aims had been to encourage more girls to take up a career in engineering, I had had a meeting with a young woman working as a civil engineer on the Barrier. She had been engaging and likeable, and definitely not someone who had gone to the dark side.

Largely completed in 1982 and officially opened in 1984, the Barrier when raised is as high as a 5-storey building. It's sobering to think that it has already been deployed almost 180 times - and last winter it was unable to prevent localised flooding in Greenwich and Kew. Each of the individual 10 gates can be raised within 10 minutes, but it takes an hour and a half to get the entire Barrier raised and fully in position.

As we went past it, I found myself feeling quite relaxed about a structure that was there for our protection and had amply proved its effectiveness:

Unlike the passengers sitting behind me, who were Spanish and feeling the cold, I was relatively chirpy:

Many of us, I imagine, were wondering what happens to the land on the eastern side of the Barrier, when it has been raised. Do they get inundated? Normally not, as the height of the defensive walls lining the river bank has been increased to provide the same level of protection as for the area to the west. 

As we approached the Barrier from the rear and looked towards the city, it was striking how vulnerable it would be to devastating flooding if the Barrier didn't exist:

By now, my pleasure at having completed another challenge was rapidly being overtaken by nausea:

I was feeling pretty awful and my discomfort increased when we arrived back at Westminster Pier, only to find there was a queue for a docking space and we had to drift to and fro for nearly half an hour, once again breathing in the fumes from the other boats. Luckily I just made it home before being copiously sick. It took over a day to get back to anything like normal - although I still can't face the prospect of having a martini, which must mean I'm still not right. On the other hand, a day of abstinence is probably no bad thing.

I would definitely do this trip again, as there's a lot to see and I'd like to look round Greenwich, as it's quite a few years since I last wandered around that area. Given the recent rate of development, it would be interesting to see how the river front changes over the next five years or so. Next time, though, I would be tanked up with Avomine and sporting my travel sickness bands!