The Bristol Article

News, Comment and Reviews from Bristol and around the world.

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The Review: Sunday at Bristol Vegfest 2014

Copyright, Bristol Vegfest

Copyright, Bristol Headfirst 

 There is no other festival like Vegfest. Celebrating the soul of vegetarian and vegan culture, the site, this year, presented Bristol an exciting platter of different food and drink, some great music playing throughout the day and a busy presence by campaigning groups raising awareness on many environmental and health related issues.

 Not only did the stalls look at substitutes, there was also a stall managed by the group, ‘Part-Time Carnivores’ who, as their website states, “aim to cut consumption of intensively produced meat” for a wide range of global and personal benefits without completely untying yourself from the odd sausage.

 The food stalls were all very tempting, but my cousin and I went for a pad Thai (stir-fried noodle dish), cooked by the chefs at Bangwok and a falafel wrap, prepared by the people at Biblos. For the price of a fiver we enjoyed food that was bursting with fresh flavours, well-presented and very filling – much more so than the chips and burgers at many other festivals. We didn’t feel like we were forking out a fortune; the food was worth every bite and we were very satisfied.

 Another presence was that of local drinks companies and breweries. To wash down my meal I bought a pint of Eco Warrior from the Pitfield Brewery and I wasn’t disappointed. The ale wasn’t thick and stodgy – it was light, golden brown and gently refreshing. The Brewery itself creates natural, organic, vegan-friendly ales and I highly recommend them to any beer enthusiasts looking for something new.

 In addition to the vegan-friendly beer, my pint of Eco Warrior was served in a cup which was made from 100% plant starch and could be thrown onto the compost heap. I couldn’t quite believe that this product hadn’t been accepted by a wider market, especially with pubs and clubs sending so much plastic to the recycling centres every year.

 As the shadows drew longer, people crowded around the festival’s main stage to listen to a fantastic performance from singer D’Lys. Throughout the day we’d been treated to an array of artists, all bringing something special to the event and providing a great atmosphere for everyone.

 Towards the end of the event, we were brought round free samples of a raw tea drink from UK company Equinox Kombucha. You could be forgiven for thinking that they taste like a cordial mixed with lemonade; the bottles boast a list of very wholesome ingredients and I certainly didn’t feel guilty afterwards.

 Overall, the life and the diversity that Vegfest brought to Bristol’s amphitheatre made it a day full of interaction and excitement. The festival was engaging, especially with crowds of people talking to the representatives of campaign groups such as Sea Shepherd, Greenpeace and BUAV (British Union for the Abolition of Vivisection) amongst many others.

 I came away having learnt new things, sampling tasty alternatives and feeling enriched by a thoroughly current and modern festival.  

Article by Dave Lifton, 2014

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Four-hour stake-outs, getting personal and capturing the unexpected: The Bristol Article talks to Calum Jelf about his Urban wildlife documentary and other projects

Photo courtesy of Calum Jelf

Firstly, can you tell us a little bit about yourself and the projects that you've been working on?

 I’m Calum Jelf and I am a third year Student at the University of the West of England studying Filmmaking and Creative Media. I am working on a few projects this year but my big two are as Director of The Urban Wildlife Project and Producer on a short drama called Acceptance.

Acceptance is a drama that I co-wrote and produced with Ryan Cleary, about a man who destroys his wife's items after she dies to get rid of them, but finds them returning to him throughout the course of the film.

Still from 'Acceptance', photo courtesy of Calum Jelf

What inspired you to create wildlife documentary?

 I wanted to show people that there is great, interesting wildlife on their doorstep. When we began researching this project I was genuinely surprised by the wildlife that lives and passes through Bristol and whilst filming the project we were often talking to people about what we were filming.

Have you always been passionate about wildlife?

 When I was around 15 I got my first camera. I found that wildlife made a good subject, they don’t mind if the don’t look good in the picture. Early on I took photos of birds and insects, so I guess my interest in wildlife started there, and out of necessity I began to learn more about the animals I would be filming or photographing.

All films encounter problems and wildlife documentaries are notorious; what, in your opinion, was the most difficult part of filming?

 Well it’s always tricky creating a documentary, finding the right people to be in the film and organising the filming when everyone has their own agenda can cause issues. In terms of this documentary the most difficult part would be going out on a stake out for 3-4 hours and knowing that you might not get any footage at all, you have to be patient, or stubborn. When you do get the shots you want it is rewarding.

Luck plays a big role in making a series of films like these. We are still filming new segments for The Urban Wildlife Project about the foxes in Cotham and they are proving to be camera shy, despite not being people shy. I think that you make your own luck the more hours you are willing to put in.

How much planning went into the documentary, did you source out animal habitats around Bristol or did you go for capturing them there and then?

 We started planning the film in the September, looking for locations with interesting wildlife stories. Researching the animals that we would be following is important, one, you want to get the best footage you can and two, you don’t want to be waiting around when the animal isn’t active. Although best way to find that out is to go and see the animals yourself and observe their behaviour. We met with all our contributors prior to filming, to get their opinion on what be our best bet on getting footage of the animals.

What have been your favourite moments in the projects?

 My favourite moments on this project have been whilst filming the wildlife. In our film about the deer at Ashton Court, there is a deer that begins to follow Mark's hand expecting food.

During the interview with Ed Drewitt in Castle Park, we noticed a young pigeon had fallen into the river, and was unable to fly. A seagull then began to peck at it. Once the Pigeon was dead the Seagull ate it. I was surprised to know that Seagulls did this as I thought they were just scavenger birds. Seeing that kind of behaviour I found really interesting.

There have been a wealth of wildlife documentaries in recent years; how will your documentary differ from others?

 Obviously our documentary is small compared to the scale of Africa, Life or Planet Earth; but I think what makes ours different to others is it gives people a personalised view of the wildlife in their city. This means that people can get involved with encouraging and protecting urban wildlife in Bristol.

What do you hope people will take from watching the documentary? And would you like to make more nature documentaries in the future?

 I hope people will enjoy the films and feel motivated to see and learn about the wildlife in their area. If nothing else I hope that they are informed about wildlife around them.

I am really interested in making more wildlife documentaries. I’m interested in showing peoples relationships with wildlife; in the next couple of years I will hope to do the Wildlife MA at University of the West of England. In the mean time we are still working on one of the films to be added later in the year.

Links to Calum's work:

http://cjelf.wordpress.com

https://www.facebook.com/CJelfMedia

Article by Dave Lifton

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Have Network Rail Been Fair to the West?

  Although news reports created visions of unexpected disaster when flooding destroyed the rail track at Dawlish in January, for many of us who have used the line it didn’t come as a surprise.

 In the build up to the storms there were constant delays, rail works and packed out carriages; calls were being made for Network Rail to accommodate the rise in passengers and to increase the frequency of trains.

 Since the mass abandonment of railway infrastructure in the 1960s to make way for roads, commuters only have access to one track running between London Paddington and Penzance. Whilst big cities have enjoyed generous funding, the West has been largely left out.

 The Twitter and Facebook pages were filled with complaints as Network Rail came under the scrutiny of passengers and MPs alike. Tickets were refunded and commuters were put on tightly-squeezed hourly rail replacement bus services as the rail operators worked around the clock to get trains running again.

 On the 4th of April, two weeks ahead of schedule, the line at Dawlish was reopened; yet, this hasn’t stopped the general feeling of locals that more should be done to prevent this from happening again.

 As recent years have shown, the UK is experiencing an increase in flood events, and, with the main line running through more than one coastal area one suggestion was to build a new, alternate line that ran much further inland.

 Image of the damaged Dawlish railway taken for the Daily Mail, February 2014

 However, as Tom Worsley, the man who designed the method used by Ministers to decide what goes ahead explains, ‘new railways are very expensive, more land would have to be purchased and there would also be issues about the stations the new route would serve and whether some towns would be bypassed.’

 A Daily Mail article from February suggested that Ministers were considering opening two old lines as alternatives to the coastal route. Although both would’ve had to have been renovated and adapted for modern trains and rebuilding the Dawlish section of the line took less time and money, it still raises the point that much of the rail infrastructure needed for a south west revamp already exists.

 With many people in the west having to rely on bus services, congestion in towns and cities rising and with an increase in families unable to afford cars, a commitment to rebuilding and reinforcing the old local railway would be a huge benefit to the area.

 As the Government develop plans for the new high-speed railway line linking London with Birmingham and the North, the idea for a South West revamp is not a ridiculous notion.

 The proposed HS2 will cost £42.6bn and won’t be ready until at least 2026. With the HS2 rail’s construction, many towns and villages will have to be adapted and demolished to make room. The sheer size of the project goes to show how much the Government are willing to spend to achieve faster transport; so why has nothing been done to support the South West line before now?

 The London to Birmingham line is served by a much larger majority of people than the Bristol to Penzance line. It makes economic sense to spend more money on improving it, especially if it sees a larger financial profit. As Professor Jon Shaw of Plymouth University states, ‘we’re going to have a lot of competition [for funding], we’ve got a big hurdle to overcome to convince the Government we need the money first this time instead of it going elsewhere.’

 Perhaps there needs to be a change in the attitudes of ministers towards the way that the South West line is viewed. Birmingham and London are financial, business hubs which serve millions more than the stations of Plymouth and Exeter; yet, the South West has a lot of potential.

 From its innovative companies to its aspiring Universities and tourism - the South West is thriving. However, with a limited line it is still closed off from much of the country.

 Westminster needs to take Dawlish as a warning: if the UK wants to keep up with other countries in Europe, the South West should be treated as fairly as the rest.

Article by Dave Lifton, 2014

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Boarding to Barcelona: the story of a first-time traveller and his Spanish Adventure

Part Six: “Fui sobre agua edificada, mis muros de fuego son.” (On water I was built, my walls are made of fire.)

Madrid didn’t exactly welcome me with open arms when I arrived. Walking to the hostel, situated not far from Puerta del sol (Madrid’s famous city centre), I was battered by cold winds that reminded me of the UK; my hands were beginning to numb which made reading the map very difficult. Seeing so many adverts featuring happy families indulging in the roasting Spanish heat it’s easy to forget that Spain is only an hour away from Britain and, in the winter, it is pounded by exactly the same forces that make our Januarys so terrible.

We covered most of the important bits of the city, from the Plaza Mayor to the oldest restaurant in the world and from the avant-garde Cathedral to the Royal Palace and it set me up perfectly for further exploring over the next few days. On the walking tour I met a guy from New Zealand called Jake. As we talked we found that we were into a lot of similar things and after the tour we decided to get a coffee in one of Madrid’s many coffee shops.

Jake and I finished our coffee and set off for something heavier at a nearby Museo de Jambon: a kind of mixture between a butcher’s (jambon means ham), a bakery and a pub. When we got inside however, the people could instantly tell that we weren’t local and we received a reception typical of village pubs in England. That said, the experience was fantastic; I’d finally bitten the bullet and tried to depart from the tourist circles. It also gave me a place to practice the small bits of Spanish I’d picked up from my phrasebook, which made me feel a lot more confident, regardless of whether I looked ridiculous in front the Spanish.

In the evening we also visited the Museo del Prado: a showcase of classical art and one of the many galleries Madrid has to offer. It contains four floors full of varied paintings and we found ourselves trying to trace back our steps quite a few times because of its size.

Jake and I became quite solid companions during the two days that he was in the city, and on the last day before he headed to the airport we did a much more in-depth tour of the landmarks we had seen on the first day.

We found the Temple of Debod: an Egyptian temple that had been shipped over to Spain from the African country and rebuilt in the capital as a thank you for supporting the protection of many ancient temples threatened by the construction of the Great Dam of Aswan. Jake and I also stumbled upon the Plaza de Colón, a square dedicated to Spain’s age of conquest, discovery and empire – with a huge fish-tail shaped structure on one side of the square that contrasted the rushing traffic and busy skyline.

Finishing our tour, Jake and I paid a visit to the Reina Sopfia: another museum of art but with a much more contemporary, and in my opinion, interesting collection of work. From Dalí to Picasso and from Franz Kafka’s sketches for his books to a fantastic array of visual art, every inch of wall space in the Reina Sofia was painted with vibrant, unusual and contemporary forms. The highlight of the gallery was Picasso’s Guernica, a painting that spans an entire wall and depicts the massacre of Basque-speaking villagers during the Spanish Civil War.

Jake left for the airport after a couple of days and I spent the rest of my time immersing myself in cafes around the city. I found a particularly nice cafe right by the Royal Palace and spent several hours in there planning future writing projects and reflecting on all of the good adventures that I’d had during my three week trip.

My time had finally come to an end in Spain; I kept looking over my boarding pass, feeling a mixture of excitement at seeing my friends and family again and sadness because this enlightening trip had come to an end. The Spanish Adventure had changed me for the better. I felt more confident as I waited for my plane

Madrid’s has a motto, ‘fui sobre agua edificada, mis muros de fuego son’; it translates as ‘I was born on water, my walls are made of fire’ and I thought that it was quite a poignant sentence for summarising my trip. I had arrived full of anxiety and dread, trapped in my mind by what-ifs, but now, with everything that I’d experienced, I noticed a fire burning in my chest.

I talk as if Spain was a one off, but that isn’t true. As the plane turned and the windows were hit with torrents of English rain, I was already plotting my next great adventure.

Article by Dave Lifton, 2014

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Boarding to Barcelona: The story of a first-time traveller and his Spanish Adventure

Part Five: ‘No hay fotos!’ (‘No pictures!’)

After travelling on my own it was quite a shock finding a group of Americans in my dorm on my first night in Seville. I’d grown so used to my own company that I found the loud neighbours irritating and I even considered finding something to do until they had gone to bed.

I soon realised, after being forced to talk to my neighbours for longer, that I had let my selfishness at wanting to be on my own get in the way of my judgement. I warmed to the group over the evening and after having a further drinking session in our room we wandered down to the river and watched the city at night.

Although the next morning brought with it a cloudy head and dry throat, I battled on with my day (it was already about twelve o’clock). Now that the trip was coming to an end I seemed to appreciate my days more and I wanted to make use of every minute.

I spent the first part of my day in the Sevillian Alcazar, a Spanish palace/fortress and one of the only remnants left of Islamic Seville. Having seen so much history, my mind was boiling over and I didn’t know how much more I could take; yet, I could easily have lost myself in the Palace’s gardens because they were so calming and colourful.

It was in Seville that I created the cheap meal which would feed me right up to the end of the trip. I started buying baguettes, beans, cheese, avocado, tomatoes and salad and in the morning I would eat fruit and seeds. I’d done a full circle; Barcelona had seen me eating seeds, fruit and bread; then I developed a taste for pizza and, seeing the trip’s end and my money’s end, I took myself back to basics. It took me a whole trip but I’d worked in healthier, more filling ingredients to stop me from gorging on expensive food.

The geek inside of me leapt excitedly when I discovered the Plaza de España; a large semi-circular space boasting ceramic murals, a boating lake and very Roman-looking grand pillars. What was so special about this place was that the humble plaza had featured for around two seconds in Star Wars Episode 2: The Attack of the Clones. I could see why it had been chosen as a location; its outlandish murals and weird shapes made it the perfect place for any fantasy film.

I decided to see one last museum, the Archivo de Indias, before I left Seville and I was very glad that I did. I made a fool of myself by having to empty out all my loose change at the security gate and I thought I was going to be thrown out for taking a picture, but all of this was forgotten when I laid eyes on the exotic treasures brought to Seville from all corners of the Empire.

Being a contender for the capital of Spain and the centre of Spain’s imperial endeavours, it’s no surprise that Seville is designed to look royal. What I enjoyed about Seville was that it wasn’t trying to compete with Barcelona’s architecture or Madrid’s nightlife; it was its own city, championing Spanish culture in its horses, history and tapas.

There were only four days left of my trip. I felt as though I had been out in Spain for months; everything English about my life seemed like it was a dream I had created to scare myself about being boring or normal. My shoes were worn; the soles driven down and holes cut where my heels had dug in. I faced the realisation that I would be leaving this warm country soon; every time I looked away from the south I felt a kind of sadness because I knew my three week adventure was coming to an end.

Article by Dave Lifton, 2014

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Boarding to Barcelona: The story of a first-time traveller and his Spanish Adventure

Part Four: 'Unas patatas grandes y algunos aros de cebolla por favor' ('a large chips and some onion rings please')

Granada was still singing in my ears and brushing off of my feet when I stepped onto the platform at Córdoba station and, at first, by the way the roads veined and wound across the city, it felt as though I was still in the cultural centre under the mountains.

The transition from Córdoba to Granada was so smooth because they share the same Islamic ingredient in their broth. Both cities were important centres during the era of the Caliphates (Muslim Kingdoms) and they pumped the blood of Andalusia throughout southern Spain. Even when the Spanish seized control of Córdoba and expelled the Islamic and Jewish inhabitants the monuments of their culture still dominate the landscape.

Córdoba however, felt more like an antiques shop than a city as I searched for my hostel. Every street I followed led me to an artefact of a by-gone age; it was very much a jumble of the city's different guises and would be a perfect place for me to challenge my more adventurous side.

The fourth hostel I stayed in was like no other I had or would stay in after. It was all built around a Spanish patio; an open-roofed square and the only route from my room (which was technically outside) to the kitchen and the bathroom. Spanish patios are great for the hot summers that the locals experience every year, but for the middle of January when the colder climates and spells of rain settle in it can make a simple trip to the toilet seem like a hard-fought battle.

I met a German girl called Helen on the first night. She was also making her way through Spain for the first time (Helen was also on her way to Morocco) so we shared stories about our trips. She also showed me her book full of pictures and signs, a fool-proof phrasebook for situation where no one understood a word that you were saying.

We went to find some food but Spanish shops are notorious for their short and weird opening hours. There was, however, a Burger King by the Mezquita: a remnant of the Muslim Córdoba, converted into a church for the Spanish Catholic conquerors. I attempted to ask for my order in Spanish, feeling as though I was committing a great disrespect by not going to a Spanish restaurant instead, yet, I didn't know enough and resorted to English for a lot of the sentence.

On the next day, Helen and I paired up as I ran through my list of marked museums and sites. I thought that the day was going to become too full of history and, with so much information to take in, the excitement can often dry up and you find yourself overwhelmed. After a while it felt as though we'd been looking through the museums for as much time as Ad-Andalus had been gone. It was time to recharge the day and what better way to do it than look at some contemporary art?

We found one art gallery hidden away in a side street and I could feel my mind relaxing a bit as we looked at things which didn't need so many words to explain them. It was then back to the hostel to eat through the food I'd left behind (another reason why the day became overwhelming) and socialise with a couple of the new arrivals.

I was very determined to see the Mezquita and learnt that entry was free for a short time in the early morning. I wandered over to the old relic, taking in the hundreds of arches looming over me in the dawning, crisp light and sensing perhaps the same mysticism that encouraged the Islamic Kings to build this Palace; I felt very connected with the Mezquita – especially as I was drawing its interior. Unfortunately however, my period of peace was disturbed as I was ferried out along with the other tourists to make way for the Nuns and morning mass.

Orange is the most common colour in Andalusia, and no – I wasn't going to be corny and comment on how much the Sun shines down on the land. The orange trees line avenues and roads in every city; the fruit is so plentiful that road sweepers spend more time filling their carts with oranges than city rubbish. This is a stark, but refreshing contrast to the cigarette butts and sick that lines Britain's streets.

On the final evening of Córdoba, before I sped away yet again, me and two newer arrivals (an English girl and another German girl) went for a quick walk to the shops. As we reached the centre however, we were captivated by the plaza. Orbs of light hung over a very dark square and in the centre of the square there stood a black iron statue of a man on a horse.

The oddest thing about this statue and something that I think summarises the essence of Córdoba was that the black statue, losing its original head some time ago, had been, rather bizarrely, given a white head as a replacement.

Although the first days in Barcelona and getting lost in Zaragoza were behind me, it didn't mean that I was safe from problems. Making my way back to the train station, I felt confident enough about where I was going to put the map back in my pocket. What followed however, was a mad dash to the train station when I realised that I'd gone too far north and an audience of staff cheering me onto the train with only seconds left to spare.

I thought that I was already a travelling man; that I had achieved enough to guide my way through a foreign city without getting lost and panicking. I had managed to get most of the way without map-reading but the reality was that I still had much to learn, and I hoped that Seville and Madrid would teach me.

Article by Dave Lifton, 2014

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Boarding to Barcelona: The story of a first-time traveller and his Spanish Adventure

Part Three: '¿Cómo nos ponemos manos?'('How do we get down?')

Andalusia. One of Spain's most iconic provinces and a place that has inspired people for hundreds of years.

Its land is diverse. From icy mountains to baked earth, from the Catholic soul to the Islamic skin, Andalusia is marked by historical and cultural events that make it sing a very different tune to that of the rest of the country.

By the way that I spoke about Andalusia above, it was obvious that I was excited about entering it. This was the part of my trip that I had been anticipating the most; if I had to choose only three cities in Spain they would all have come from Andalusia.

When I mentioned in the first part of my article that I was always intrigued by the image of the travelling man, it was only in Andalusia that I really felt as though I was on my way to becoming that man. This was probably because of the departure from large urban districts and the domination of wide, untouched landscapes where scuffed boots and trilby hats thrived.

My journey down from Zaragoza lasted six hours and I covered a distance of 733km (approximately Bristol to the tip of Scotland.) So you can imagine how energetic I became when the train changed its course and I saw mountains and settlements. These great icy crowned Kings were known as the Alpujarras and are the tallest mountains in Spain, set on the edge of the dry desert wilderness that is the Sierra Nevada.

At the hostel where I was staying the atmosphere was totally different to that of Barcelona. I felt like I was staying someone's house and I was uncomfortable about the idea that I would have to climb over people to brush my teeth. However, after a few short moments of being there, the closed space didn't worry me and within minutes of dropping my bags off at my dorm I was already chatting to other people who were staying there.

On my first night, as I ate the first of many microwaved pizzas that I would scoff in Granada, I got talking to another Englishman called Dom who was looking for work teaching snowboarding up on the mountains. We got on pretty well and he invited me out to sample a couple of the tapas bars that the city had to offer. The problem with me eating out in Spain is that I'm vegetarian and the country's diet is so heavily built on its meat, so I was only expecting a small piece of bread or a piece of salad. Yet, something much more colourful, a slice of brie and spinach pizza, was laid out in front of me.

The following morning myself, an Egyptian and a Belarusian, whom I had got talking to the night before, set out to see the Alhambra. The Alhambra had been the centre point of my Spanish trip; I'd planned to visit it long before a broader trip to Spain was even thought about.

The fact that there was a building which had been designed by Muslims who also reigned over a kingdom in Europe surprised me and intrigued me. With the conflict between East and West growing more tense, I thought that this would be an important place for learning about how the two cultures lived during the reign of the Islamic Kings.

Although I had only been in Granada for less than a day I felt as though I fitted more into image of the travelling man than I had ever done during the first week. In Barcelona and Zaragoza I hadn't always received the warmest welcome. Whether it be through unhelpful people or confusing streets, as a first-time traveller trying to overcome some of his fear, at times I wanted to turn away and go home.

Here, however, it was the opposite. Being a much more enclosed city full of interesting people, stories and surrounded by scenic landscapes I often forgot about my worries. Granada was by far the calmest place I explored in Spain and the rest from my thoughts liberated me so that I could put on my boots and walk around.

I was back with the Belarusian girl on the second day and the first stop on our tour was the Mirador Saint Nicholas. The Mirador (view-point) was a fantastic place to take some pictures with the Alhambra, the Alpujarras and the city in frame. Discovering the Mirador was like opening a treasure trove; the only way to reach it was through a maze of criss-crossing Jewish roads which could be, at times, confusing but rewarding when you did get it right.

We'd set out with coats to keep us warm in the bitter chill of the morning; yet, as we walked down from the Mirador we found ourselves baking under the Sun. Spain wasn't experiencing its typical fiery temperatures because it was the middle of January, but it was still a lot warmer than we would expect here or in Belarus at this time of year.

After the Mirador Saint Nicholas we wandered over to the other side of the river in search of a group of people living in the caves under one of the Alpujarras' peaks. Following a small path that took us up the mountain we stumbled upon what appeared to be the hobbit houses from the Lord of the Rings and the community that we were looking for. We didn't linger for long though as the place did look intimidating. This community, and the other set of caves used for community events, spoke to me of the closeness with nature that the residents of Granada held and it was something that I too wanted to be a part of.

I think that my desire to get close to the nature around Granada went too far however, as the next hour of my trip found me and my Belarusian friend stuck on the side of a cliff trying to reach one of the Alpujarras' smaller peaks.

The path that we had used to reach the caves soon vanished as we pushed forward in search of the top of the hill; what replaced it was a series of steps built out of flimsy earth and branches to carry us where the path fell away. As I mentioned earlier, the coat that I had been wearing was now being carried, and I also had a bag full of food making the journey even more difficult. We got half way up the mountain and, after nearly falling off of the cliff face a couple of times due to collapsing paths, I decided that I didn't want to go any further.

Knowing the path back was hardly safe we asked a Spanish girl who had followed us up the best way to get down, but our Spanish was broken and her English was too and, after trying to ask her in Spanish the safest way to get down, we went back the way we came.

I survived the descent and I talk about it like it was a brush with death; in reality, it wasn't that steep a cliff – I probably would've broken a bone had I fallen though. The danger of death wasn't really the point though, the point was more the fact that I had pushed myself to do something that I wouldn't normally do and, walking back to the hostel, I knew that I had done the right thing in scaling the cliff – if I hadn't, I would've returned with one less story to my name.

On the last day of my time in Granada I set out to have another wander around the city. The journey took me back to the Alhambra and, with my first trip being rushed, I thought about going in again to have a closer look. My money was getting low however, and I trekked a path that went up past the Alhambra instead.

What I got at the end of the path was a big national park and I wish I'd discovered it on the first day. From the park I could see the icy Kings in all their glory and Granada was the size of a Lego town. The closed wooded paths and open spaces meant that I could relax a little and take in the quieter side of the Andalusian city. I could've carried on walking, the wood went on for miles and, if I had, I probably would've found myself scaling the sides of the larger mountains in the distance.

When I compiled my list of cities to see in Spain Granada had been at the top and it certainly didn't disappoint.

Within minutes of arriving at my hostel, I didn't want to leave. The Jewish streets of the Albaicin, the solemn figure of the Muslim Alhambra perched above the city and the dense woods dwarfed by the domineering forms of the true Kings of Spain gave me the drive every morning to get out and explore. The laid-back bars and wealth of Erasmus students also gave the city a thriving buzz.

Granada cleared my foggy mind, I had more of a purpose in life and more of a vision. It was the first city that I could properly relate to and, on another trip to Spain where I'd see areas I didn't cover in the first visit, Granada would still be on the list.

My first city in Andalusia had left me with a tantalising taste in my mouth. I wanted more of this mythical land, and I was about to get it as the fourth part of my trip, the city of Cordoba, welcomed me in.

Article by Dave Lifton, 2014

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Boarding to Barcelona: The story of a first-time traveller and his Spanish Adventure

Part Two: “¿Donde esta la pensione?” (“Where is the hostel?”)

Zaragoza, the city I was heading to after Barcelona, wasn't originally in my list of cities when I was planning my trip. Valencia had been the second part of my adventure right up until the week before I flew out but there was always a sticking point with Valencia and it just wouldn't sit well in my mind.

All of the cities I had decided on for the trip had a selling point, whether it be an old converted mosque, museums, landscapes etc. However, Valencia didn't have that specific thing that really made me want to go there and, as I was going on a trip which was supposed to excite me and engage me I had to find somewhere that would.

As I poured through my Lonely Planet book Zaragoza struck me. I hadn't heard of the city before; yet, as I scanned the guide the different things that the city had to offer (history, culture and a vibrant night life) ticked all of the boxes in my mind. Valencia was taken out and Zaragoza was written in.

My first few hours in the city were challenging. Getting into Delicias station I felt like I had taken the wrong train out of Barcelona and wandered into the middle of nowhere. Instead of compact streets with richly decorated buildings I was greeted by large open roads and housing districts.

I started on what I thought was the route to the Basilica of the Lady of Pilar and the location of my second hostel; however, it soon appeared to me that I was in fact on the motorway leaving the city and so, I had to walk back to the station for attempt number two.

It became clear to me as I took another wrong turn and got lost again that my map reading skills weren't helping me much. Fortunately, after four hours of walking aimlessly I discovered the tram line operating through Zaragoza's city centre. The tram listed that one of its stops was the Basilica and I felt a sense of relief knowing that I could finally use my map rather than relying on the city maps, which were confusing to say the least.

I have never asked for directions as much as I did in Zaragoza. I should've recorded '¿donde esta...?' in advance to save me time as I asked almost anyone I could find to show me the way. The problem I found was that many of the people I encountered knew three words of English and explained the important part in Spanish, whereas I knew the important phrases in Spanish but knew nothing about how to translate the answer into English.

I eventually reached my hostel and, after absorbing so much of Zaragoza at once and carrying the weight of a bag full of clothes, I didn't want to do much else except lie on my bed.

After a couple of hours rest however, I thought I'd try to make the most out of my day and plan out what I wanted to do in the city. Another person staying in my dorm walked in whilst I was working and asked me if he could open the window in Spanish. When I spoke back to him in English the man's face lit up and it was very quickly discovered that we were both from the same country.

Michael was an Erasmus student (English Universities offer their students an Erasmus programme where they can swap places with international students and study in other countries for a period) and he had chosen Zaragoza as his exchange.

I was given a new lease of life when Michael told me about a €1 a bottle deal at an Irish bar around the corner from us. I originally planned to stay away from alcohol along my trip but, in the back of my head, there was always a door open to the idea, especially when a deal was brought into it.

It was refreshing to speak to another person with English as their first language. Although I had only been in Spain for four days, I had been surrounded by English for seven years and the sudden contrast did make me feel uneasy, especially as I hardly knew any Spanish.

Sadly the English bubble was burst when Michael flew out in the morning; I did get lazy with him around though. I didn't have to translate much because he was a fluent speaker and the whole reason for going abroad was that I had to be doing things by myself. He was the first of many to teach me some basic Spanish though and I got by with what I'd learnt once I was on my own again.

My first proper day in Zaragoza began with a visit to one of Spain's many gigantic Catholic cathedrals, the Basilica of Our Lady of Pilar. The most interesting thing about the Basilica is that there are two unexploded bombs displayed inside. During the Spanish Civil War these bombs were dropped onto the Church but, described as a miracle by the clergy, neither detonated and they are now on display as reminders of the war and of the Basilica's resilience.

Because I was sketching the architecture inside, I spent a good three hours in the Basilica. The rest of the day was filled with a trip down to the river Ebro, where I took some crisp winter pictures of the bridge and of the other side of the city. I also returned to the same Irish bar with a German man who I met in the hostel in the evening; although, we didn't quite connect as well as Michael and I did.

The residents of Zaragoza are also very proud of their Roman past. I saw ruined baths on display in the city centre, a museum devoted to the Roman era and a few metres south of the Basilica, lay the unearthed amphitheatre. Caesaraugusta, the Latin incarnation of the city, was still very much alive around me. But, what really caught my attention was seeing so many different periods of Zaragoza's history continuing to influence its modern image.

In most cities there is an El Corte Ingles, a Spanish equivalent of the big English department stores and I had my first experience of one of these in Zaragoza. I hadn't encountered any in Barcelona because I had tried to shop as cheaply as I could, but the layout of Zaragoza meant that it was impossible to escape its shopping district. I felt like I was back in Britain again, walking through the aisles and smelling the tasty bread and cakes as they baked them.

I did think that Zaragoza was going to be the quiet part of the trip, but my expectations of the city were rapidly changed by the people I encountered. The bold graffiti, tightly knit city centre surrounded by sprawling outer city districts and the sense of internationalism encouraged by Erasmus students all spoke to me of a city that didn't take itself too seriously and didn't feel the need to hide its imperfections.

On whether my trip would've been better had I gone to Valencia instead of Zaragoza, I'm still undecided. Zaragoza had lots of fantastic spectacles both hidden and exposed along its streets. But then, Valencia is the science capital of Spain and its buildings are contrastingly modern and metallic (something that might have been a nice departure from the old and blocky architecture I saw throughout my trip.) If I return to Spain I think I will pay Valencia a visit, but I definitely don't regret going to Zaragoza.

With travelling to Zaragoza I gained a much broader sense of Spain and if I had stuck to my initial decision, Valencia, I would only have explored the south coast - could I really say that I got a good picture of Spain if I had stuck to the coast?

When I'd finally settled into the city I found myself walking back to Delicias station for the next part of my trip. Boarding the train for Granada I heard the song of Andalusia calling and my excitement grew.

Mountains, mosques and the Moors were all waiting for me in the south: the tempo of my journey was about to change.

Article by Dave Lifton, 2014

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Boarding to Barcelona: The story of a first-time traveller and his Spanish Adventure

Part One: “¿Tiene un adaptador?” (“Do you have an adaptor?”)

As a child I was always attracted to the image of the travelling man; the beaten boots, the stubbly face and the bag-full of stories that he carried on his back captured my imagination and I wanted to be him.

Since then, I've managed the stubbly face, there are some beaten boots lying around in the back of my cupboard but the bag-full of stories of the man's travels, the bit that made the man who he was, was still absent from the list.

My desire to travel has been a difficult one to see because it has been constantly hounded by anxiety and doubt. Unlike the shadowed man who brought mystery with him, I stuck to the world that I knew. I excused my way out of any planning by blaming it on the fact that no one would travel with me and, with the University dream fading away and visions of the working world becoming clearer, I settled - albeit uncomfortably.

It was on the second anniversary of my Graduation and the realisation that I'd been in Bristol for that amount of time with nothing to show for it that I let the desire take hold of me again. I saw the bad compromises I had made and decided that, rather than allowing my anxieties to paralyse me, I needed to find my Get Out of Jail card.

The Get Out of Jail Card revealed itself to me after a conversation with my Step Mum over a pint in the pub. She explained that she was worried I would never find direction after University, suggesting that I should take a trip to a different country by myself because, through dealing with a different language and place, I would become more confident and understand more about what I wanted in life.

The seed had been sown; yet, it was another long spell of pausing and thinking before I finally sat down and drew out the plan for where I was going. Spain was decided as the destination and throughout December I booked my flights, hostels and transport to each of the cities. It was an odd time because I wasn't feeling terrified every waking moment like I had been when I first thought about the idea. But then, on the day before the flight my stomach began to tighten.

BARCELONA

Flying over to Barcelona, my mind was flitting between moods. I was finally feeding my desire to see more than the island I had been stuck on, but, because I'd starved this feeling for so long it wasn't sure how to sit with me, allowing it to be clawed at by niggling fears of getting lost or finding myself in dangerous situations with no way out.

Throughout the journey I had been sat next to two northerners who were heading to Barcelona for the party and I couldn't help but notice the contrast between us. They talked about having the very typical British experience of swimming pools, hotel and bars whilst I poured over Lonely Planet guides and readied myself for three weeks of culture, history and hostels.

A maze of tiny lights signalled the end of the flight and, as I entered Passport Control I felt free. My Bristol life had already escaped me; now I was living the life of the traveller and I could scuff my shoes on foreign dust.

I expected the first day to be the hardest. I thought that seeing exotic trees and people occupying the parks and streets with names that I couldn't understand would be too much for me. Yet, when I woke up on my first Spanish morning and got ready to go out, the concept of being in another country on my own hadn't hit me. Even as I passed through the urban landscapes on my way to the metro station I didn't feel too uncomfortable. Barcelona's easy layout and European feel meant that I could tease myself in rather than jumping straight into navigating my way around the local districts.

However, not everything went to plan.

On the second night in the Catalan capital my phone began to flash as the battery warned me that it was on its last breath. But when I went to get my adaptor I found that I only had half of it with me.

The other half was still on the floor of my room back in the UK, rendering the entire thing useless. With no way of charging my phone that night I panicked; the one thing that kept me in touch with my family and friends might die and any direct connection between us would be lost.

The first bad situation had happened to me, and, for a while it seemed that I was stuck with little help coming from others in the hostel. Fortunately, my luck soon changed when I found out that there was one other Englishman in the hostel who had a spare adaptor I could have.

What I realised after the drama was that I had both found myself stuck in a difficult situation and had managed to solve it on my own; Barcelona had already given me a new confidence and I was barely into the trip.

Sight-seeing was a big part of why I chose to go to Spain. However, when I got to Barcelona, I found that it was actually more fun people-watching in the parks than forking out money to wander around the Sagrada Familia for an hour. I was trying to steer away from the tourist experience as much as I could and as a result, I think that I saw a much deeper, less superficial level of the city.

I hardly spent a thing whilst staying in the city; the only thing that really ate into my money was the metro at €10 a day. I could've quite easily walked around the city; but, with my lack of confidence in finding my way around I saw the train as a way of keeping connected whenever I did feel lost.

Basic foods like sunflower seeds, croissants and chocolate filled me up on my first night and then, whilst visiting the Sagrada Familia, I bought lots of fruit to boost my meals. My initial philosophy was that, having no fixed home for three weeks I would need to rely on smaller, simpler things less often in the day.

Also, because of my budget and because I did all of Barcelona on my own I didn't drink in any of the cafés or bars. In hindsight I wish that I had but my thoughts were much more focused on getting used to the life that I would be living for the next three weeks. On my night walks, however, I did wander past some of the busy bars and restaurants, absorbing the much warmer and more relaxed glow of the Spanish city when it shakes away the stress of the day's antics.

If I could only afford to return to one Spanish city, Barcelona would be right at the top of my list. Its essence is so rich that you can either choose to see small parts or immerse yourself for years. Another selling point for me was that Barcelona was much less congested than London or Paris are in the winter months, giving me space to breathe and, being nearer to the equator, I didn't need to wear thick coats and gloves.

When I boarded the train to Zaragoza I realised that I'd miss the city I had come to know over the previous four days, I didn't feel as though I had relaxed enough or indulged enough. However, Barcelona was very much a practise level and a testing ground for the trip ahead; I now had the rest of Spain to explore and the rest of the game to play.

Article by Dave Lifton, 2014

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The University of Plymouth Student Choir's Christmas Concert at St Andrew's Church

Photograph copyright (c) David Brown 2013

Boasting tall roof arches and spacious halls, St Andrews Church was a well-suited choice of venue for the University of Plymouth Student Choir's Christmas Concert raising money for Make-A-Wish foundation and the Royal National Lifeboat Institution.

The choir opened with gusto quickly fading the pre-concert chatter with 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen', a traditional carol well-engrained in the fabric of Christmas. The good quality of sound helped bring dimension to songs such as 'Carol of the Bells' and 'World In Union', which was perhaps one of the most well-received pieces of the Concert as the singers guided their way through the notes with a rousing confidence.

The carols 'Good King Wenceslas', 'Hark the Herald Angels Sing' and 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen' allowed for audience participation, an addition was warmly welcomed by the eager voices sat along the pews. To add a fresh face to the traditional round of songs these were followed by 'Adiemus', an African-sounding tune complete with drum accompaniment. The tap and the skim of the drum's top gave the song more layers, creating a sense of tribal mystery and a distant exoticism that is very different to that of the organ.

An essential part of the concert's identity and a testament to its creativity was the inclusion of a member of the choir, Sophie Ferguson's 'Do They Miss Me', a song whose lyrics, composed by her, spoke of a soldier stationed away from his family and his wondering about whether they still thought of him. The song was performed with much emotion and, with its refreshing composition, gave the audience a passionate display, pulling them in further with its deep soulfulness and very real subject topic.

The second half began with Handel's 'Messiah No.4', an exciting and complex composition which was a great delight as the song flowed with a strong pace, bringing a serious air of professionalism to the concert. 'We Three Kings' was sung with a bold enthusiasm by the smaller male section of the choir, who, throughout complemented the women, resulting in a truly harmonious blend. The concert was concluded with the ever-favourite stirring 'Hark The Herald Angels Sing', bringing the event to a well-rounded close.

After just eight weeks of rehearsal amongst deadlines, coursework and exams, the choir conducted themselves professionally and, combined with their innovation, did well to break the concert away from convention and be realised as an original event. The conductors led the songs with much enthusiasm and this energy was reflected by the choir who stood boldly and confidently throughout the performance. The whole event packed a beautiful poetic punch, leaving those who attended and those who performed with a sense of achievement and pride.

Furthermore, in this age of impatience and materialism, it is refreshing to see a group of University students not only performing and showing interest in a tradition that is older than mobiles and cars, but taking that tradition out of its stuffy box and presenting it in a way that subtly infuses it with our modern experiences, stories and lives.

Article by Dave Lifton, 2014

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The Review: Professor Astro Cat's Frontiers of Space

Recently, I was looking for a present for my ten year-old brother. I wasn't particularly looking for a book as I knew that, although he likes reading, it would be difficult finding him something that wouldn't be seen as a bit of a boring present. And then my decision was changed by the finding of this wonderful book.

Where most books might only be useful to your child for a year or so before they move into more complex subjects, Professor Astro Cat's Frontiers of Space, a book written by Dr Dominic Walliman and illustrated by award-winning illustrator Ben Newman, is a book that will continue teaching and entertaining your child right up until they reach Secondary school.

The book is enticing; pulling you in with colourful and playful characters that guide you through its pages making you feel comfortable, but it doesn't dampen the science.

The addition of characters means that you become more involved with the page than you might with a text-heavy book and their speech bubbles break down the complex science into more manageable chunks. This, again, is helped by the poster-theme layout of the book, moving the words to the edges and allowing for the shapes and colours take centre stage. Some of the pages depict beautiful scenes that would suit canvases, making this book more than just a throw-away piece.

Its diagrams give children a sense of scale that they can relate to: by using grapefruit and cherry tomatoes the book explains the scale of our planet in comparison to Jupiter or Neptune. It also provides the reader with the very latest exciting scientific ideas, such as 'The Veggie Project', a project created to allow astronauts to grow their own vegetables on board the International Space Station.

Dr Walliman describes science in small, bite size chunks that don't require intensive reading and at the end of the book there is a glossary of all of the terms used, making it a valuable tool for school learning and referencing. With the combination of clearly demonstrated science, easy-to-follow characters and exciting designs this book should be on every child's shelf.

Professor Astro Cat's Frontiers Of Space is published by Flying Eye Books and is available from Amazon, Waterstones, and other high street bookshops for RRP £15.99.

Article by Dave Lifton, 2014

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It's the middle of winter, and whilst you enjoy a hot drink and catch up on East Enders one very determined man will be trekking across the cold, unforgiving inclines of the Brecon Beacons in aid of Macmillan Cancer Support

Most of us have caught a snippet of Bear Grylls battling his way through the jungle on TV, own box sets of true-story survival films or may even have been on a country walk; feeling as though you might never make it home when every field you come to looks exactly the same.

However, whilst we cosy up with our central heating and fantasise about survival situations, James Howitt, a student at the Bristol Institute for Music, will undertaking a true adventure: trekking the Brecon Beacons on January 18th in aid of raising money for Macmillan Cancer Support.

James took a little time out of his busy preparation to talk to me and you can read the interview below.

Q: For those of us who don't know, could you explain what the Fan Dance Race is and the types of activity that you'll be undertaking?

A: The Fan Dance Race started off as just a general military exercise and it's famous with the special forces in particular. It's one of the last tests that you have to go through, so, usually what would happen is they'd have a three week selection period, or 'selection' it's called for special forces circles. Once they've done these three weeks they have two challenges; one of which is the Fan Dance Race series and the other one, which is called the Long Drag, which is like a 40km walk and the kind of adage of all of these, the purpose and the reason for doing it is not just physical strength, it's also about mental ability and it's mental capability as well.

The Fan Dance is a mental endurance event, as much as it is fitness, but, to sum it up - what it technically is is a 24km route walk over Pen y fan in the Brecon Beacons, which is the Brecon Beacons' highest peak. You summit the peak, go down the other side of it and then you reverse the route. So, in essence, you summit the peak twice. Usually, it's done with weight, but because this race series is a civilian race, you have the choice. I'm doing it with a 45lb weight but you can do it clean fatigue, they call it, which is without.

Q: Is there a particular reason for fund-raising for Macmillan Cancer Support?

A: Unfortunately, I lost my Aunt two weeks ago now to cancer. Seeing the care that she was in in the hospice - although the last hospice she was at wasn't Macmillan - when she was in hospital I remember seeing the support that not only my Aunt but, you know, my Nan, who's got breast cancer and bone cancer, my Granddad died of cancer and he was supported by Macmillan, not only that but the family that they've supported: they're absolutely phenomenal. The way that they deal with people and incidents, their kind of whole ethos and how they run, I think, are very much under supported - although they are very famous.

Q: As the Race is an endurance event could you talk through the kinds of training that you'll be undertaking?

A: It's quite rigorous at the moment, because, obviously as you know I'm training to be a Royal Marines officer as well. At the moment I'm doing a lot of hill sprinting, hill running. I try and run over Leigh Woods a lot, so it's very tiring and very painful. I try once a week as well to build up to the 45lb weight that I'm going to be carrying on my back. I didn't want to start training with that on my back because it would absolutely shred my ligaments and my knees. So I started off with absolutely no weight whatsoever and then went up to about 15lb, then 20, 25, and up to about 35 to 40lb maximum. I train 5 to 6 days a week, 2 or 3 specifically for this event with one spinning event which is indoor cycling – a very high-paced endurance on your leg muscles and weight-lifting for my lower body strength.

Q: With the Race taking place in the middle of January, do you feel comfortable with the potential low temperatures and snowy climate?

A: Obviously, training for snow is something that we don't have the privilege of doing a lot in Bristol or England; but I used to work in the French Alps and during my time there I found that I was more than comfortable. Walking through snow is like walking through glue but there are little techniques that you can do. I have a lot of life experience in that kind of climate.

Q: What do you think will keep you going throughout the Race?

A: I don't know whether you know but my nickname is Jinx. The history of that name was that when I was born unfortunately I had every medical condition under the Sun. I had a plethora of illnesses up until my teens. I was in and out of hospital and the Doctors just nicknamed me Jinx because everything happened. Everything happens but I always bounce back.

One of my main driving forces is my Great Uncle who was a Corporal in the first SAS regiment. He wouldn't have done this route, they trained up in Scotland when he was in but the training is exactly the same. You look at pictures of him and he's a small, mild-mannered man; he comes from quite a modest upbringing but he achieved a lot more than people were expecting.

I carry one poem with me wherever I go: If by Rudyard Kipling. Dad gave it to me on my eighteenth birthday and someone gave it to him on his. It's a family tradition. The words are so powerful, so incredible; it sticks to every ethos that I stand to. When I'm shattered I recite the poem in my head and it's like a placebo, taking my mind off of the pain.

Q: Do you think fund-raising through physical endurance challenges is more effective than the traditional "penny-in-the pot" or baking sale methods?

A: I think it's the one that best suits me because I always tend to give more money if I see someone challenging themselves. Like skydiving. It's great and I'd love to do a skydive but a lot of people do it for fun and do it for charity – it's a bit strange. But I always think a physical exertion, where it's something you've really got to punish yourself for and you've really got to work towards – people respect it more. Any charity fund-raising has got to be respected but I personally prefer it when people are pushing their body to help charity.

You can support James on his Justgiving page, here:

http://www.justgiving.com/Jinx-Howitt

Article by Dave Lifton, 2013

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Do Away With Socks As Presents This Christmas and Buy An Artichoke Instead

But before you spend your money on bundles of socks and accept that you will have to face another year of disappointed looks on Christmas Day there is another way.

If you have a family member who is into gardening or know of someone who is keen to get digging one present that will be up to the task is the Globe Artichoke.

There are hundreds of sites online that are offering packets of Globe Artichoke seeds for very reasonable prices; unfortunately the plug plants won't be available until mid-spring, but if the person who you are buying the present for is patient it will be well worth the wait.

A member of the thistle family, the Globe Artichoke might not be the most appetising of plants. Yet, where some see a barbed and impenetrable exterior, others see through this façade and wonder at what treasures may lay underneath.

When cooked with a little garlic and some butter, the heads make a perfect starter to a meal or a mid-afternoon treat.

Firstly, the arch-shaped petals can be removed from the main head and, where the petal connected to the head, a succulent layer of flesh can be pulled off by the teeth like yoghurt off of a spoon.

The great efficiency of the Globe Artichoke is that when all of the petals have been pulled off you'll be left with the Artichoke heart. This can be diced or cut into pieces and dipped in anything from mayonnaise to balsamic vinegar, adding an extra bonus to the meal.

Globe Artichokes can also make fantastic additions to pizzas, lasagne and pasta sauces – but these aren't their only benefits.

With their Art Deco-style heads and their tall growth Artichokes will add a beautiful architectural quality to your garden. And when everything in your garden is turning brown and dying you can leave a couple of the plants to flower.

By doing this you will bring a deep purple burst into an otherwise muddy and dull patch, making you the envy of all other gardeners. The last-minute worker bees will also appreciate another, quite rich source of pollen, flying in great clusters to the heads, giving you a great sense of pride as you watch over your small sanctuary - especially if your garden is located in the wildlife-unfriendly suburbs of towns and cities.

Of course, Artichokes are perennials and will need a good couple of years to establish – but you will reap the rewards by giving them time.

Being perennials, Artichokes are far more patient than the demanding broccoli or the screaming tomatoes when it comes to nutrients and watering. A decent pile of manure, an occasional watering and maintenance and these plants will be satisfied. I have found that planting them onto a mound of well-rotten manure ensures that they grow healthily, along with all of the other perennials.

When germinating the seeds it is best to give them a good three weeks head start, sowing them in long tray pots in the first week of March indoors. You will need to sow the packet's worth as this gives you the best chance of a healthy seedling. More information on the growing process can be found here:

gardenofeaden.blogspot.co.uk/2009/06/how-to-grow-artichokes-from-seed.html You can buy seeds from most garden centres; or if you're shopping online sites such as Suttons, Thompson and Morgan and others stock a decent range, with the price generally staying at around £2.99. Plug plants cost a little more at about £10.00, but are ready to go into the soil as soon as they are purchased.

So, why not give the Artichoke a try this Christmas? At little more than the cost of a pair of socks and with the promise of many rewards if looked after, there is little argument against giving this gourmet vegetable a try.

Article by Dave Lifton, 2014

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'Click and go' politics: Swapping the ballot paper for Facebook

As part of 'Parliament 2.0', a re-branding of Government spearheaded by Commons Speaker John Bercow that will be implemented before the next election in 2015, the plans will see an online alternative to the traditional ballot box method, built in conjunction with social networking sites such as Facebook and Twitter.

Both Facebook and Twitter are widely used applications and can be accessed pretty much anywhere around the world. So moving the voting system online seems like an obvious decision. With a much more accessible system to hand it would also mean that those of us who are too busy to get to the voting centres could do it on the go instead.

Young people who are often noted for being apathetic towards the vote might too become more involved if this system were installed, and with only 32% of young people that were eligible to vote voting in this year's elections it is evident that a change is needed.

As the self service machines that are introduced more and more into our supermarkets show, automated systems are more efficient, look slicker and give people more control over the items that they are purchasing. A system applied in a similar way to the voting system could produce greater results and would be more beneficial than any advert or campaign reminding us to vote would.

The simple push of a button would do away with the often difficult to find voting centres and, as is the case with self service machines, would give people a stronger confidence when choosing their candidate – something that has been lacking over the last couple of elections.

It is not just the vote that would undergo a transformation. Mr Bercow has also called for more communication between MPs and their constituents using the online service, adding that this would be a key feature in the blueprint drawn up before the next election.

Without the restrictions of place and time, debates between MPs and the public (as the amount of interest on many MPs' personal Facebook and Twitter pages has already shown) allow for a more democratic and clearer discussion. Everyone is equal on the internet and, if you are computer literate, there is nothing stopping you from challenging and engaging in debate with your local representative.

This new system does not come without concerns though. Doing away with the physical ballot paper in favour of a touch of a button may leave us cold and dissatisfied, leading to our confidence in our vote being affected. Depending on the design of the system, if it is not planned correctly it may also be in danger of over-simplifying the vote and glorifying parties, communicating something very different to the voter than is intended.

The traditional trip to place your vote would no longer be necessary, causing further alienation for those who prefer to vote with others in their community close by, and, although the online discussions between MPs and the general public may create a stronger sense of trust, it would only happen on the internet. This would take away the physical debate, allowing parties to become more opaque about themselves and their policies: it is easier for an MP to ignore a tweet, but a question directed at them in public cannot be so easily brushed aside.

Another concern may be that the candidate is chosen by the colour of their name or other aspects that would also distract away from their policies. Facebook has often come under fire recently for introducing adverts to its pages; by putting a traditionally unbiased system onto something so commercial are we in danger of selling our democracy?

Yet, to ignore the current trend in interactivity on the internet would only cause the Government to be seen as more draconian than they are already perceived. A move onto the internet platform would be a smart and positive one in terms of re-branding Parliament. As Mr Bercow hopes, this transition onto the internet may help towards repairing the trust lost in politicians after the 2009 expenses scandal.

Whether the vote be made online or on paper, perhaps all that is important is that the vote has been counted. Choosing your MP should be an inherent part of life, and, as a country with an ever-growing apathy towards its Government, it is clear that something drastic must be done to get more of us voting. For that reason, and as long as it is regulated with strict guidelines, an online voting system could very well be the antidote that this country needs. 

Article by Dave Lifton, 2013