Sir Isaac Newton’s Apple Tree

Forgive me, Parkrun aficionados, I joined Jane on an overnight trip to visit her sister, Ali, her husband, Russ, and their daughter, Erin. We were slaying three birds with one slingshot.

On the way we called in at the National Trust property, Woolsthorpe Manor, the childhood home of Sir Isaac Newton. A stately home it is not, but its importance to science and discovery is as wonderful as any huge pile in acres of parkland. And, yes, the tree is still there.

It, pretty much, consists of the house, a science centre, giftshop and restaurant and, of course, the regrown original apple tree.

First call, after the toilets, no hook on the back of the disabled WC to hang my cane, was the Science Centre. I think, in truth, it is aimed at children but, it has to be said, these two slightly older children had a great time. The experiments, simple and effective, were great fun. Jane, the ever doting carer companion, read every single information board to me.

“I have never ever seen anyone read out loud all the boards before,” said a voice from behind. We turned around.

“Oh!” said the room-guide, on spotting my cane, before addressing Jane, “I see why now. That is a real credit to you, ma’am.” He then proceeded to take us in hand, and give us a personal tour of the experiments. Absolutely brilliant. I do love it when my cane manifests itself into a magic wand and gets this sort of exclusive treatment. A huge thank you; really sorry I didn’t get your name.

The house was a little underwhelming, but the NT have made the most of it. Details of Newton’s discoveries were impressive. When you think, we owe so much of what we know today to this one incredible genius.

Genius, yes. Common sense, not sure. A little absent minded, methinks. There was the time he rode to town on the family horse, promptly forgot that he had taken it, no doubt his head full of formulae and calculations, and walked home. As we stood near the apple tree, you can’t really get under it these days, I wondered why such a clever man would sit under an apple tree in the season the Americans now call Fall. Quite fitting that he later became an MP after the bonk on the head from the apple!

Eventually, after an arduous journey, especially the Nottingham bit, we arrived at Ali and Russ’ place. We had a great evening. Plentiful food, plentiful wine and prosecco. And stimulating conversation, well into pumpkin time.

Conkers Parkrun

The next morning, up bright and early for what has become a Saturday morning ritual: Parkrun. This time we were on the tourist road again, dropping in at Conkers Parkrun, in the beautiful National Forest, on the way home.

I met up with my VI Guide, Kevin Borley, before the start. He showed me a short length of rope with a loop at each end. In truth, it resembled a dog toy. You know the type, the dog takes one end and the owner the other, and then a game of canine tug o’ war ensues. Do dogs ever lose their teeth when playing this game that we think they enjoy?

435 of us gathered along the narrow track leading to the start adjacent to the Conkers Waterside and Discovery Centres. It was quite restricted in the beginning, I reckon it took us over a minute to pass through the start line from the get-go hooter.

The course, when looked at from above, resembled an odd shaped lollipop. Out along the Ashby and Nuneaton disused railway line, originally constructed to serve the Leicestershire coalfields, now the stick, until we looped around the sweet, back onto the stick and home.

Kevin did a good job keeping me in one piece around the all-terrain course: consisting of tarmac, gravel and trail. My only complaint was that, when we passed through the finishing funnel, it was lined with stinging nettles. Ouch!

No PB for either of us this week. Very challenging, though.

White Cane Ratings*
Car Park: very good; free - 🦯 🦯 🦯 🦯(4)
Welcome: very good; friendly - 🦯 🦯 🦯 🦯(4)
Atmosphere: good - 🦯 🦯 🦯 (3)
Course: challenging; Misuse of the word ‘undulating’ - 🦯 🦯 (2)
Marshalling: very good - 🦯 🦯 🦯 🦯(4)

*These ratings are how the event suits a blind person, and are my opinion only; they are not scientific. Whatever happens no-one must be put off by me. The best way to learn about something is to try it for yourself.

Langkawi Series - Gotham City!

We saw eagles where the eagles fly, monkeys on Monkey Island. Next stop was Crocodile Cave. Crocodiles are probably Jane’s least favourite creature, the stuff of nightmares. I could sense there might be some fun in store at the next stop.

I could tell she was a little apprehensive, and I didn’t help the situation when I said I had seen a TV programme, many moons ago now, showing crocs jumping clear out of the water to snare some food. I asserted that one could easily land on the boat but, not to worry, I was sure our guides would not put us at risk.

As we entered the cave Fendi, our escort, let the darkness build, before revealing that the reason for the cave’s name was nothing to do with crocodiles, but the amazing geological feature that had made the walls of the cave resemble crocodile skin. There are no crocodiles in Malaysia. Jane, having held her breath for ten minutes or more, I am sure, exhaled with relief. I thought I would google the veracity of Fendi’s claim. Only a week ago a six year old girl was snatched away whilst bathing in a Malaysian river. Ummm? Didn’t know it at the time, but the biggest Crocodile Adventure in Malaysia is on Langkawi. Perhaps an idea for next time?

The next stop sounded like we were visiting Gotham City. It was the Bat Cave. I imagined entering a world, an underground lair, and finding Adam West and Burt Ward sitting in front of a fire drinking hot cocoa or some such. Fendi suggested I did not take part in the tour, inside the cave, as it was treacherous underfoot, with very narrow paths and low ceilings. I waited, bobbing about in the boat, as Jane jumped onto the small quay and headed into the darkness. I confess that I was disappointed to miss out.

Jane confirmed, however, on her return, it would have been most precarious, and that it was a bit of a job looking after herself, let alone guiding a stumbling man, with less sight than the cave’s usual residents, around the dim interior. It’s alright, my wife is allowed to speak to me like that. In fact, I don’t mind how people, in the main, address me; it doesn’t bother me! There are one or two exceptions, but you had better ask me when you see me, I am not sure whether I might cross the line of libel here!

Holy Nausea! While I was waiting-off, for Jane’s return, bobbing around like an abandoned swimming float in a diving pool, I became aware that the slightly queasy feeling in my stomach had diminished. Holy relief!

On exiting the river mouth, we gained the open Andaman Sea and the engines were cut. Life-jackets were passed around. WTF? We had been thumping into wake-waves all afternoon so, why now, did we suddenly need to wear buoyancy aids? I could feel an anxiety start to wriggle and slither, like snakes, inside my gut, taking the place of the sickly feel. How bloody bad was this going to be?

In fact, it wasn’t bad at all. It was no worse than navigating the mangrove lined waterway. Sure, we were skimming over waves at what felt like two hundred miles per hour, spume wetting our faces and, every now and again, we would catch a wave so wrong that we received a minor soaking. None of this mattered as we were having the time of our lives. We darted between the most incredible wind and wave carved rocky sea-stacks, Mendelssohn’s “Fingal’s Cave” playing in my head, although I must confess I always have visions of this under glowering grey, nearly black, skies in the Hebrides, and not the brilliant sunshine of the Malaysian tropics, as we made our way to feed the fish just off Dingli Island.

Blind Tip of the Week
🦯 If we come into your establishment, a shop or a bar, especially if we are on our own, try and make sure you greet us as soon as possible. It lets us know we’ve been noticed.

Don’t be afraid to say something like, “Hello man with the white stick. Can I help you?” or “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

It is not offensive but shows us you are differentiating us from other customers. 🦯