Sunday, September 7, 2025

Innocent days. Or maybe a fundamental change

 Didn't someone mention hippies the other day?  Well Hebden Bridge is still talked of as a hippy town but the hippies are much older, but still wear their hair in a ponytail....


Here is a link to a pdf with many of those hippies testimonials of their descent in the 1970s into Hebden Bridge.  There are echoes of how we think of hippies - free love, feral children and drugs but there is also a honest sincerity of trying to make a different life, with values of a different nature.

They were the grandmothers and fathers of the children today in Extinction Rebellion, and peaceful none violent protests.  Wanting a better world, a kinder world, definitely one without war in it.  Unfortunately our world is getting worse from a number of factors, perhaps we need more hippies to come forward.

Firstly they moved into the empty properties around, also (can you imagine) houses were going for the princely sum of anything from a £1000 to £2000 upwards.  Some people bought these houses and did them up over time, the hippies in squats were booted out in the end, but the council gave grants to do up the houses, to bring new life to the town.  The factories making stuff had by then closed down.  In fact HB was called 'trouser town'.

As these homes became established and whole food shops were established, the town became a mecca for 'would be' hippies from Manchester and the surrounding towns to come and stay.  Sleep on the floor and help with the refurbishing of houses and establishment of gardens and the growing of food for the culture of the vegetarian, self sufficiency that had grown up.

So they did indeed bring life to the town, unorthodox maybe, but it was a time of great change.  The 1960s had bought a sense of freedom to the young.  Music had contributed to this.  But now everything was being explored, the very values of the life 'straight' people led.  It held freedom as the prize but it definitely beat its energy against the old ways.  But that is the way of change. 

Saturday, September 6, 2025

6th September 2025

 

Bees.  I love bees and also honeysuckle.  The flower is intricately made, a magic blending of colour and of course smell.  I would fill a garden with trellises for them to climb up just to be able to walk past and touch their fragrant petals.  The above one (honeysuckles are called Loniceras) which some would say is a common one but is actually very beautiful and slightly exotic.

But the other day I thought of Jennifer Owen's book - Me and my Garden and wondered should I get it.  Then, yesterday, my old journal book fell open on something I had written from Jennifer Owen's library book about bees years ago.  So......

"The eight garden species differ in seasonality, in nesting and in hibernation sites, in food sources and in feeding behaviour, effectively petitioning amongst themselves what this and neighbouring gardens have to offer.

Bombus Pratorum;  queens, black and yellow with a red tail are the first to emerge from hibernation, often being on the wing in March.  Several other species appear in April But, Bombus Lapidarius queens, black with a red tail, rarely emerge before late May or early June.  Male B.Pratorum are often produced as early as May and colonies may finish by June, whereas those of tawny-brown Bombus Agrorum  and of Bombus Terrisistris, black and yellow with a brownish-white tail, run on into September and females are still on the wing in October.

Ealy starters and late finishes can make the most of available food when few other species are around.  Nest site preferences also differ. Bombus Ruderarius black with a red tail, and Bombus Agrorum nest on the soil surface beneath clumps of grass or moss, whereas other species build nests at the end of disused mammal burrows. Bombus Hortorum one of the white tailed black and yellow species, builds at the end of short tunnels but B.Lapidarius and B. Terristris use approach tunnels a metre or more in length.

The early nesting B.Pratorum is an opportunist using whatever sites are available, choosing above or below ground .

Hibernating queens also use different sites, B. Terrisistris burying themselves in soil beneath trees, whereas B. Lapidarius queens burrow into well drained banks.  Thus therefore there is considerable partitioning of the physical environment, in time and in space, between different space.  They differ in feeding behaviour B. Agrorum workers, for instance, rarely forage further than 450 metres from their colony, whereas B. Lapididarius may collect food at sites more than a kilometre away.  They tend to visit difference flowers, largely because if tongue length differs between the species.

Although bumble bees usually collect food from flowers with tubes a few millimetres shorter than their tongues, tongue length places a limit on depth of flower tube from which nectar can be extracted.  B. Lucorum, black and yellow with a white tail, and B. Terresistris have the shortest tongues 10 millimetres in length (or less) and feed conventionally at flowers with rather short petal tubes, such as white clover and heather.  Both are nectar thieves, which bite holes in the base of deep flowers to extract nectar and they are the main bumble bees exploiters of honey dew.

At the other extreme are two white tailed black and yellow species Bombus Ruderatus and Bombus Hortorum, with tongues of 20 millimetres or more, which only feed at deep petal tubes, such as red clover. They have access to nectar that other species cannot reach and never touch honeydew or rob flowers of nectar, although their jaws are quite strong enough to bite holes in petals.  B. Agrorum is intermediate in every respect, its tongue is 11-14 millimetres long it feeds at flowers such as bird foot trefoil with nectar at an intermediate depth, and uses both red and white clover.

There are also specific preferences in feeding sites B.. Lucorum for instance, tends to feed at exposed flowers, whereas B. Pratorum visits flowers sheltered and shaded by vegetation

The net result is that the relationships of the eight garden species to their environment differ sufficiently for all to be accommodated in the same area.

Taken from: Garden  Life by Jennifer Owen page 154-155

It may be of little interest to most people to my blog but it shows a person who spent years studying her small suburban garden and noting the insects within it. Honey bees and bumble bees are vital to the growing of our crops, yet we show little respect to the insects of this world.  Perhaps we should.

The Hairy footed flower bee

My favourite bee was the first one I would see at the early part of the year a little black bee, probably the male bee exactly like the humming bird moth in its flight as it hovered over the Pulmonaria plants and the early flowers it produced.  Common name is lungwort because in earlier times its leaves were supposed to represent diseased lungs and the plant was of course supposed to cure this.  Ho-ho.
But if you love bees plant Lungwort and allow Himalyan Balsam to flower to, because........... bees can't distinguish a foreign plant from an indigenous one 😎

Meditating on the word bumble bee. you can see why because they always seem to show their 'bum' to you.  Earlier in history they were called humble bees.  Another small fact is that the rampant foreigner that grows so gleefully around here, Himalayan Balsam, is very attractive to bees and they get covered in the white pollen of the flower, turning the bees into 'white ghosts.'



Friday, September 5, 2025

Links and more links

Why?  Does a 1965 song - It's Good News Week traipse through my mind when I turn on BBC radio 4 at 6 in the morning? Has anything changed in the news?  Weirdly I have just listened to a session in parliament from an African news source.  I suppose I should give thanks to the great god You tube.

The first thing from the BBC is the, by now, the old story of our deputy prime minister not paying stamp duty tax on her second or third home.  Which is a flat down South in Hove, Sussex and so it says £800,000 in Bing News.  Apart from the scurrilous amount of money asked for a flat, in a time when our young can't even afford a room in a house share.  Where the hell is the Labour party going?

I can see why the new Green Party leader Zack Polanski is making such a showing in the news.  As a once member of the Green Party I am intrigued by what will happen, the greens after all have a few seats in Parliament and we all know the British people will often vote for an abrupt change just for the pleasure of turning the tables (not a good habit).

The GP votes in a very fair way (and long) you end up with two deputies for each department. A little tale on that.  Many, many years ago in Bath, I think the GP started in Bristol by the way, our small group used to have meetings in a wonderful old house in Corsham.  One meeting we were voting on something, just a dozen or so in the room, and in marched a real red socialist called Derek Wall with his followers.  I knew him as a young lad who would come on my husband's excavations. He turned the tables on the vote.  And left me with the knowledge that not all things in the way of politics are nice ;) ;)  How little I knew but have gained knowledge along the way.

So to my last link, which is a happy, personal one

Wednesday, September 3, 2025

Nostalgia is an indulgence

 Wandering through photos to find the churches of Whitby I chanced upon a folder that showed the garden in Normanby.  The first photo is of a rose called 'Jam and Jerusalem'.  It just loved blackspot and it had to give up the ghost because of its unsightly leaves.  The name presumably comes from the colours pink and yellow.


The next two photos are of Paul working in the studio at Kyoto.  He sits surrounded by scrolls, 10 years of his life devoted to an apprenticeship that was measured by the maturing of a special glue in a large pot, which you stirred once a year. The Making of Aged Paste.  As he would say himself, rather pridefully, but I forgave him that, there was but a handful of people in England who could do his job as a conservator.




But back to flowers and bantams: I never named my hens, these two cost £20 quid apiece, joined us for coffee in the morning and roamed the garden happily with either Lucy in tow or my feral kitten, Green Eyes who attached herself to them.








Tuesday, September 2, 2025

1st September 2025

 FOUR BODHISATTVA VOWS: CREATIONS ARE NUMBERLESS, I VOW TO FREE THEM. DELUSIONS ARE INEXHAUSTIBLE, I VOW TO TRANSFORM THEM. REALITY IS BOUNDLESS, I VOW TO PERCEIVE IT. THE AWAKENED WAY IS UNSURPASSABLE, I VOW TO EMBODY IT.


For What Am I fighting? - George Orwell

Nowadays, over increasing areas of the earth, one is imprisoned not for what one does but for what one is, or, more exactly, for what one is suspected of being.

Yesterday I noticed a little story on the net about America and ICE.  I did not know that members of this foul organisation really existed, yet I have seen enough footage of people being taken off the street or chased down in fields to realise that they exist.  They had taken a young boy of the street, who had been out walking his dog.  They tied the dog to a tree and took the boy.  Yes I was reading a story about a dog left tied to a tree, but the young boy will disappear into the system of a holding cell, his family terrified to reach out.

No wonder I have started reading George Orwell's essays as he tries to understand his world in the 1940s.  To see the parallels between America now and its government and the Nazi regime of earlier times, the tactics are quickly recognised.  Bringing fear to the streets, makes everyone fearful.

We are treating such figures as Vance and Trump as clowns, we should not, they are just sitting on the top of a pile of greedy human beings, instead we should be calling for democratic change.  Terrible things happen in history, war is just one of them, but the subjection of ones own people is a crime in its own right, and American autocracy  and authoritarianism strikes a hollow note.

We have two wars in the news now, the Russia v Ukrainian war, which the government in America will not condemn the Russians for their expansionist aims .  Then there is the monstrous crime of the starving of the Gaza people by the Israeli government, again ignored by America.

Is it a game of chess, the large pieces moved on the board? for what? In this country maybe for that wretched word called 'growth' as our government kowtows to its bigger partner/enemy.  Though the argument is against the need for growth,  because the Earth is straining to survive already with us onboard.

Freedom of selling minor papers in 1945  George Orwell


Dragons and Yews


This is an old blog rescued for its stories

Dragons and Yews

Sigurd slaying the dragon

Sometimes a horn sang out,
an eager war song, but
the troop all waited, watching
along the water the kin
of snakes, strange sea dragons,
swimming in the deep or
lying on the steep slopes--
water monsters, serpents, and
wild beasts, such as the ones
that appear on a dangerous
sea journey
in the morning time.
When those creatures heard
the war horn's note
they hurried away
bitter and angry.

Taken from a translation of Beowulf by Dr.David Breeden

Sometimes when we view history it is best to go back to storytelling to capture for one moment the imagination of past societies. Here in our present time we analysis with such thoroughness, that the life and soul is taken from the events that moulded our ancestors.
So it is with this story,the story of Nickers Pool, Nykerpole at Cunetio or Mildenhall in Wiltshire. The first story I had read about this pool said that a small settlement of felons lived nearby and that their ghostly presence had caused wraiths to appear in the nearby River Kennet, the ghosts tumbling around on top of the water.
The second story told of Nickers or Nicor's well, now here we go back to Saxon sea-monsters, for nicor means just that and like the above translated verse from Beowulf, relates to dragons and monsters of the Saxon world. So here we have some evil creature living in the River Kennet that came out at night perhaps and terrified the people at Mildenhall. Strangely it is similar to a story in West Wales about a prehistoric stone cairn, though in this case the water-monster was a beaver.
A body of a Saxon woman was found in one of the Roman wells excavated near this site, it would seem that she was murdered and then thrown down the well and perhaps her disappearance adds to monsters coming out of the river at night.

As this is an old blog I am not sure on which font this particular dragon is. But it would be either Avebury church or the Bassett one.






The Yew at Alton Prior


The Saxon presence round this part of Wiltshire is very strong, and perhaps the best place to understand it is in the Vale of Pewsey, along the road by Martinsell hill, or up on the old Ridgeway next to Adams Grave and the great Wansdyke, But for the moment we shall stop in the valley bottom by the two churches Alton Barnes and Alton Prior, situated by a small flowing stream.
There is magic here, time has been trapped for a moment, a small path leading from one church to another and there is a quiet sanctity to the place. In Alton Prior church there is an old supposedly 1700 year old yew tree, which of course puts us right back into the Roman period of 300 AD.
Why two churches you may ask, for that explanantion you must turn to John Chandler's
words here.

 He describes Alton Prior church yard as a 'tree yard' with its great and beautiful Yew tree. For it is indeed beautiful, a soft creamy pink inner wood, sensually smooth to the touch, and the twisted contortions of the tree have a vibrant life of their own. Were yew trees sacred in their own right, perhaps with their evergreen foliage, they were one of the sacred trees of the Celtic people, and this relic in Alton Priors may have had predecessors in the Iron Age.

This is not so fanciful as it may appear for the famous well at Glastonbury when excavated, (and you have to go down many feet to expose the original Roman well,) also had a yew very near.

In Thomas Packenham's book Meeting with Remarkable Trees, there are glorious old yews a couple said to be dating back to before the christian church took dominance, and were 'druid' trees, one is at Selbourne, home to the 18th century naturalist Gilbert White. This great tree was blown down in the storms of 1990, but the vicar at the time, had the great crown cut off, and the trunk was lifted into place by crane to reside ivy clad like a stone monolith in the church yard.

the yew's inner wood

Information on the Nykerpoole was taken from the following link;

http://people.bath.ac.uk/liskmj/living-spring/sourcearchive/ns6/ns6kmj1.htm


Now there is another story told by Nennius (an 8th AD Welsh monk), who though his stories are often thought of as mythlike and foolish, does tell an exceedingly good tale. Dragons dreams can foretell a future event, and in one of the chapters of Nennius's book, he tells the story of a young boy's dream. Nennius had access to 5th century books, and this story is about Vortigen, who had found a young boy call Ambrose, the boy had a dream in which he saw a tent at the bottom of a pool, in this tent slept two dragons , a red one and a green one. They woke up and fought, and the red dragon who represented the saxons overcame the green dragon who represented the British, the tale in its full version from Nennius is told here......

"a pool; come and dig:" they did so, and found the pool. "Now," continued he, "tell me what is in it;" but they were ashamed, and made no reply. "I," said the boy, "can discover it to you: there are two vases in the pool;" they examined, and found it so: continuing his questions," What is in the vases?" they were silent: "there is a tent in them," said the boy; "separate them, and you shall find it so;" this being done by the king's command, there was found in them a folded tent. The boy, going on with his questions, asked the wise men what was in it? But they not knowing what to reply, "There are," said he, "two serpents, one white and the other red; unfold the tent;" they obeyed, and two sleeping serpents were discovered; "consider attentively," said the boy, "what they are doing." The serpents began to struggle with each other; and the white one, raising himself up, threw down the other into the middle of the tent, and sometimes drove him to the edge of it; and this was repeated thrice. At length the red one, apparently the weaker of the two, recovering his strength, expelled the white one from the tent; and the latter being pursued through the pool by the red one, disappeared. Then the boy, asking the wise men what was signified by this wonderful omen, and they expressing their ignorance, he said to the king, "I will now unfold to you the meaning of this mystery. The pool is the emblem of this world, and the tent that of your kingdom: the two serpents are two dragons; the red serpent is your dragon, but the white serpent is the dragon of the people who occupy several provinces and districts of Britain, even almost from sea to sea: at length, however, our people shall rise and drive away the Saxon race from beyond the sea, whence they originally came....


John Chandler book on Pewsey Valley

Monday, September 1, 2025

1st September 2025

 A pleasant Surprise:  Years ago I used to collect 19th century books, but I gave away most of them to Save the Children charity.  One I was always sad about was a late 19th century Victorian photobook.  But going back through my old blogs came across a few photos I had taken from it.  The Roman boar always appealed to me he is such a tough looking fellow.  The Saint Ursula one is only part of the picture, see below.

Varallo

The bridge is still at Varallo



St.Ursula with her father - Carpaccio - Academia Venice

Modern photo from the gallery


Florentine Boar - vestibule Uffizi Gallery





The Birth of Venus - Sandro Botticelli

I have always quite liked Botticelli, there is a freshness and clear colour round his work.
The dancing fawn, a Roman copy.
Description

It was interesting to follow up each of these photos, all the objects still intact and on show.  It made me look up Henry Fox Talbot, not the first person to start the invention of photography but the first person to produce the photos.

He lived in the village of Lacock not far from where we lived and the village has a museum for him.  It was that wonderful period in the 19th century when things were discovered and built upon.  Today the modern camera is an act on its own.  A complicated camera with all the paraphernalia of getting a good photo is what we have today.  Or even a good camera within the little phones we carry about with us.  Crystal clear there is no fuggy brown the objects captured, but it seems to me that we have lost our wonder at such a clever tricky piece of engineering as the camera.

Anyway I am glad I have a small reminder of that photobook and just wonder where it is really.

Wedding thoughts

 



Here I have been writing about the state of the world and I am supposed to write about the wedding today says my daughter.  Well we still haven't had the okay says I.

I missed quite a bit, the cutting of the cake for a start, and the noisy evening of dancing.  But there was a lovely little video of Ellie miming to a song by Taylor Swift - Love Story (Swift is a favourite of Tom).   Ellie picks up  something   and gives it to Tom, who then goes down on one knee to propose, a second time?  Someone took the video, hopefully  someone will be able to uplift it to my computer.  A lot of the time I was very close to tears.  I think, because there was so much love and happiness between the two of them.


There were formal photos to be had, one of the groom's family together, as here....


And one of the signing with best man and best girl to witness.  Tom's best man was called Harry and he spent most of his time with our family, probably dazzled by Matilda (she could pick up a sugar daddy any day:) Anyway his story of meeting Tom was this..... he had seen Tom moving in at the uni and thought he was the young brother of an elder brother moving in.  Was somewhat surprised it was Tom moving in.  They got on well, and Harry who was a bit older and had let us say a slightly dissolute youth decided to emulate Tom in his ways and they shared a flat from thereon. He is another good person to know and he has been asked to visit us in Tod.  As an aside, we did not have as many relatives as the bride did, there must have been a lot of cousins.....


So once more a traditional wedding in the family.  In a traditional country house in Cheshire.  Funnily enough we also were in Wales, at least on the border, though I would not call it Wales but there was Welsh signage about. Andrew heaved a huge sigh of relief when we got back to the steep sided valleys of West Yorkshire, he didn't like the soft landscape of Cheshire.

Escoyd Park 





Tom and Ellie live in a fairytale at the moment, long may it continue.  A truly happy marriage. 


Sunday, August 31, 2025

Think On

Civil disobedience:  Of course the person who wrote this is perfectly right! I mean all we have to do next is grow our own vegetables, sell them back to the supermarket and then buy them back.  
A comment found on Facebook that calls supermarkets to account.  Bravo 😎  Though I notice the barrier gate for running your receipt over some electronic lock has been left open at Lidl.  Perhaps it is a touch to brazen for the company.


"I see the direction you’re heading—moving toward almost exclusively self-checkout lanes. Just yesterday, I visited one of your stores. After loading my cart, unloading it to scan each item, and reloading it again, I was stopped at the exit by an employee checking receipts.

Here’s the thing: I didn’t sign up for that.

I’ve already done the heavy lifting—literally and figuratively. I filled my cart, scanned every item, bagged my own groceries, and paid for them. Now you want me to stand in another line to prove I did your job correctly? No, thank you. I simply raised my receipt in the air and walked out.

Let me be clear:
- If you expect me to handle the responsibilities of a cashier, then either trust me to do it or hire actual cashiers like you used to.
- I’m not here to prove my honesty after doing unpaid labor for your company.
- If you want me to perform tasks that were once paid positions, don’t expect me to do it with a smile—especially without training, compensation, or benefits.
- Keep employing real people, especially young workers, students, and those who rely on these jobs for valuable income and experience.

Because here’s the truth:
- **You don’t pay me to scan and bag my own groceries.**
- **You don’t offer me an employee discount for doing the work.**

This isn’t just about convenience. It’s about accountability. It’s about companies cutting costs at the expense of jobs, shifting the workload onto customers, and calling it “progress.”

We deserve better. So do your employees.

Signed,

**All of Us** 

Saturday, August 30, 2025

30th August 2025 - beginnings

 


The family has arrived for the wedding.  This photo was sent to Tom to say we had arrived safely and met up in a cafe with the London contingency and after brunch all ready to be taxied by Andrew to the cottage.  Andrew is a brilliant godsend to the family and we should all thank my daughter for bringing him into the fold.  There she sits as smug as a dowager over her little brood! ;)  There had been a panic over ties for the boys but Andrew managed to rustle up a couple for them

The cottage was flawless, less so after  we had left.  It gleamed the impersonal touch of an interior decorator, colours matched and a truly splendid kitchen. Bedrooms were sorted with little fuss and everyone went off to make themselves beautiful.  Lucien, you can just see his head popping up, the 'significant other' of Matilda was a little shy about attending a family wedding but soon melded in well. Short biography: did maths at Cambridge but his heart is set on drumming with his band.

Lucien and Matilda. They make a lovely couple ;)

Lillie took the mirror out of my room, Ben steamed his clothes in my room, Ben of course is the fashionista of the family, luckily it did not take me too long to change.

My room



A totally tidy kitchen

Ellie's parents had spent a lot of money on this wedding for their only daughter and they were a lovely couple, Imogen and Michael.  It had only struck me that this was the beginning of two families coming together and that I would have to think it all out.

Our lovely Tom who was making such a success of his life and  also marrying a very beautiful girl, a match seemingly made in heaven for the two of them.

Although the two had gone through a legal marriage at a registry office they also renewed their vows at the house in the Library Room, choice of which I will explain later.  The ceremony had been taken by a humanist celebrant and Tom was in tears he was so happy.  After a lot of vows given by both of them we were shepherded by the two photographers, here and there for wedding photos.  And, until Ellie gives the word the photos cannot be seen on social media.

So to return to the family and the cottage.  There were half a dozen cottages round the close, made out of the  exterior buildings, of this I think 18th century house, we had the laundry block.

All dressed up

Why the library room?  Ever since Tom as a small toddler, read everything in sight from his buggy and that day he picked up the Radio Times and said distinctly BBC as he could see it on the tv he has devoured words.  Escaping the family to find a quiet corner to read, it is a constant stress relief function I think for him.  Ellie is a Jane Austen fan, and there were quotes from her during the ceremony and also her father.  This was the reason for the venue, books and of course Tom has his most wanted job now which is with a publisher.



Early next morning and I heard a hawk in the sky, think it was a sparrowhawk

There is a part two but it needs thinking about.......


Wednesday, August 27, 2025

27th August 2025

 Marriage: Tomorrow we are off down to Shropshire to celebrate the wedding of Eleanor Daisy Riddy and Thomas Nicholas Opper Cunnane.  Tom of course carrying his grandfather's name forward, along with the Opper family in Switzerland and his father's name, who has slipped out of the picture over the years. We have rooms at Iscoyde Park (Sounds posh) and Andrew will pick up the three from London from the railway station at Whitchurch there. 

An engagement photo of Nick and myself

The couple are totally in love, Tom is so sweet around Ellie and of course it stirs memories from me when I remember his grandfather and how much we were in love as well.

Nick was taken so abruptly in a car accident when my daughter was about 3 years old.  The blackest of griefs the night my father-in-law came to my hotel bedroom and said that Nick had died at the hospital.  He went back to comfort Lotta and I faced the night wondering how would I go on living.  But I made the decision to go on because I had a young daughter to support. 

Nick had been educated in England, a Canterbury school I believe and then Oxford, he had hardly started out on life when it was cut down abruptly by a silly woman turning out of a driveway without checking that a car was coming.  

Nick had been to see his best friend David in Oxford.  David was an expert on concrete and Nick was selling some sort of early type computing machines.  I was just trying to remember where we lived at the time.  It was Frimley, near Woking.  My father-in-law had found us living in a wretched bungalow which dripped with condensation and was icily cold and he had given us a deposit for the Frimley house.

Nick and David


As my family was so at odds with each other, I more or less got adopted by the Opper family, we shared the tragedy of Nick's death, Lotta's youngest son.  And so in the holiday weeks Karen and I would go over to Blonay and stay there. 

Nick and I had happy times of course, we were going to buy one of those self assembly houses we had seen at an exhibition and build a home.  We went up to Oxford for parties and meeting David.

This was the time when British families working overseas sent their children to England to be educated, Nick had scars on his back where he had been beaten at school, he was dyslexic which obviously did not help.  The youngest of four children he was the baby of the family.  His sister Annabel, a Montessori teacher would come over to England and take him out to tea whilst he boarded at school. His other sister Sylvia, taught in Hong Kong and wrote, with someone else a book on Piaget and his teachings.  Whilst Mike the eldest had emigrated to Canada, to become a boxer, than  a lumberjack.

All this I write down for my family and for myself of course.  And maybe even for Taylor Swift, who announced her engagement to someone yesterday;)

Marriage and love is still not dead!

Ellie and Tom


Rebecca Solnit - Meditations in an emergency.  As always there is an edit ;)



Monday, August 25, 2025

25th August 2025

 













Sunday's Trip: After an early lunch we took off for the Bridestones.  It was an immensely long drive up to the moors, but  apparently Andrew had walked it! The Bridestones is a popular visiting place for locals and there was already a family using a camping stove for their picnic.  A short trek up to the stones and we admired that enormous landscape of moor and sky, only broken by this outcrop of stones, though further away there was a much smaller outcrop.  In the far distance Stoodley Pike and turning you could see the wind turbines turning gently.

I find the stones ugly, their rounded shapes rather frightening.  There is no evidence of them being special in the Neolithic age, but then how do we know.  They remind you of the Cornish tors.  The stones are a mill stone grit, named for their use as milling stones, you could see tiny flecks of silver in the stone.  Reading Taylor (I will give the reference at the end)

Taylor draws the same conclusion as I do about the ugliness of the weaver's cottages which have been built from this stone, he calls it a carboniferous sandstone, which helps towards the grimy blackness of them.  But as he says they are interesting because of the rows of mullioned windows that provide the light for weaving in the cottages.  Also it is impossible to clean the soot from the stone.  These cottages are a stark reminder of when the industrialised looms and great mills came into force and the independent weavers were forced down from their homes in the valleys into the mills to work for a wage.


We drove back down to Hebden Bridge as the next place to visit was Salts Mill, and all roads lead out of this town. They had changed the Hockney exhibition around also at Salt Mill.  A display of flowers in different vases and of course his French House.  Here I must say I do not like acrylics, their brightness is too childlike but I am pleased that Hockney is making a living out of his painting and will not die in penurious circumstances as so many artists do.



One funny incident.  We had parked the car, it was backed into the shrubbery, so I went round to the boot door, which is one of those that automatically open but unfortunately as it opened it tipped me into the shrubs much to the amusement of the family.  New fangled stuff for goodness sake!!
A
ndrew is marvellous for keeping an eye on me.  So I don't fall over or get stuck sitting on the ground.  We are indeed lucky as a family to have him.  The photo above in the car park must have been taken by Lillie.  We tend to fight over my camera, as she just takes anything she fancies clicking away, filling up the card with loads of useless views but she caught the moment we were still giggling over (once again) an embarrassing moment for me. 







Tea and cakes in the restaurant, my daughter wouldn't go out if there wasn't cake at the end of the outing.






The book by Alex Clifton Taylor on The Pattern of English Building, is a genuinely intelligent book of how building materials were used in this country. Years of work has gone into compiling this information.  And so co-pilot on my right hand side, please, please go away and take AI with you.  The human brain works brilliantly without you!