Occasional England

The Secret Life of Cows by Rosamund Young.  A book described as gentle and meditative and a bit of a shock to those that eat something 'with a face'.  But she sells their meat, and studies them with a somewhat obsessive nature.

We went to Helmsley yesterday for a coffee at The Vinery, and as we went back to the car park, which had all the recycling bins, Paul went over to the book bin and found this book in a remarkable condition, (don't think it had been read).  I read it yesterday afternoon, and found her stories of families and friends amongst bovine companions, sad as well as funny.  If we treat animals right they show us that their lives are as important and maybe as complicated as ours.
The cows are kept until the end of their natural life, allowed freedom between the inside barns and outside fields.  This is an organic farm in Gloucester, feed is natural, the goodness of the land built up from 1953.
The farm house, Kitts Farm is a gorgeous example of an old Cotswold House, but probably too large and draughty to live in, I am always happy to see these old houses still existing, their vernacular architecture telling us the story of the geological nature of the area.

Edit; it should be Worcester not Gloucester...

Holding the balance between

Today as I have wandered round the internet, I am aware of the need for argument, the need to put your own view across, perhaps I should read Jung, this snatched from a website, ( which I know I shouldn't do!)  

"If the subjective consciousness prefers the ideas and opinions of collective consciousness and

identifies with them, then the contents of the collective unconscious are repressed. The

repression has typical consequences: the energy-charge of the repressed contents adds itself, in

some measure, to that of the repressing factor, whose effectiveness is increased accordingly. The

higher its charge mounts, the more the repressive attitude acquires a fanatical character and the

nearer it comes to conversion into its opposite, i.e., an enantiodromia. And the more highly

charged the collective consciousness, the more the ego forfeits its practical importance. It is,

as it were, absorbed by the opinions and tendencies of collective consciousness, and the result of

that is the mass man, the ever-ready victim of some wretched “ism.” The ego keeps its integrity

only if it does not identify with one of the opposites, and if it understands how to hold the

balance between them. ...

We are inundated with 'news' Brexit and Trump come to mind, I notice how people are polarised between the different arguments, in actual fact we are not able to dictate the future it will work out by the number of 'chances' thrown into the mix. Rain Trueaux, someone who's views I would not necessarily agree posted a video on 'kindness' and this I would agree with wholeheartedly.  The argument that one should actually not even approach politics on a blog is something I do not agree with.  Why? well we all get angry how things work out, especially as they (the politicans all get paid well) do such stupid things.  So was Jean-Claude Juncker drunk or did he have sciatica/back pain, I think the evidence for the President of the EU was pretty damning on the side of one too many, and I have to thank Cro for showing me that video.  What does that video show I wonder to leavers/remainers can you make a correct choice of either?

But to the small simple things of life, Lady Grey and Fay, are out strutting their stuff whilst big villian Phoebe hen swipes out on them should they step out of line.... there is a children story there.

Lady Grey is obvious, Fay (which means fairy) after Arthur's sister Morgan le Fay

A walk this morning after the thunderstorm last night, wet grass and a cool tinge to the air.

Bantams

We set off yesterday, a 30 mile drive, in fact the way we went to Eskdalemuir, to Scotch Corner.  Scotch Corner has such a ring but when you get there there is nothing to see!  We went deep into the countryside to Lords Farm, and ate our sandwiches here, at the end of a long farm track, and my owner of the bantams sailed past.  But we eventually found her, they came back and produced two beautiful blue Pekins, actually they are quite grey but very sweet.  Obviously used to people talking to them, they 'pip' gently back.

How did they settle? well our solitary hen made her upset very noisily all afternoon, stomping around and complaining.  I did try opening the hatches of the coop for a meeting to take place, but it was all somewhat fraught, so the hen, Phoebe had the coop and the two little ones slept outside, though I did cover their run with a quilt -  yes I know....
So it will probably be a few days before they will all settle down, but they are sweet little creatures...

Thirsk on a Saturday afternoon market day

Not named yet but settling in

Just a thought

"How do you think Britain in the 19th Century would have looked if you were Siam, or Burma, or China, or the Afrikana settler's in South Africa, or indeed (in the preceding century) the North American colonies?  Crude, brutal, perfidious and culturally insensitive, big, greedy, power hungry oafs.  Now the tables have been turned and the viewpoints reversed.  And we don't like it up us, do we? 

Matthew Parris in 'Trumps Tells us Truths we don't want to hear"

Historically accurate but funny at the same time, we are getting back some of our own medicine under this new 'wild card' Trump.  I do love the British sense of humour and the barbs that go with it.  As I watched thousands express their disdain of Trump, I wondered if it will flow into his psyche, alter his conscious, or will he treat it with contempt and cries of 'false news'.

I take one more paragraph from Parris,  the first.....

"Kissing Theresa May better after roughing her up was neither contrition nor revision.  Donald Trump played soft cop to his hard cop. It was that stomach-punch that was indicative......exquisite torture a cat playing with a mouse"

Now if it would have been me, not Theresa, I would have slammed back at him for his boorish behaviour and manipulative ways, I might even have ordered him out of the country, she has a right to do so, though rather extreme!  Fawning is the word that comes to mind, how can we trust any politician?

The Real Story, BBC World Service - Does Protest Still Work? 53 minutes.

Almost but not quite Lucy!

Yesterday I went for a walk with Lucy over the fields, admired the crab apple tree, plenty of jelly this Autumn.  The plants along the river side are growing like giant triffids, apparently there are shoals of brown trout in our river according to John.

We came to the end of the fields, normally I open the five bar gate and we would set off on the dangerous zig zag bend over the bridge and along the verge home.  It did not work out that way, the farmer had mown the grass along the path and a large gap under the gate allowed Lucy out onto the road.  Do you think she would come to me, she just checked that I was behind her and then set off for home.

Now I know she is deaf, but such blatant obstinancy made me cross, and as I tailed her, she was jumping in and out of the traffic, which thankfully slowed down for her.  We made it home eventually, though I got really scared as a motorbike came up.  Yes she is still alive and unrepentant for her waywardness, Paul said lead on all the time, should I get a whistle to break through her deafness or should I give up on obedience?  She will be 11 years old this July.

Thursday 12th July

Spring Witch by Colin Blanchard

"Spring witch passed through the edge of the wood then bidden by a blackcap and watered by a willow warbler's trickle the ground turned green where her feet fell."

So my print has come home, Antony did a good job on framing, a dark blonde wood with a pale green matt.  It seems strange amongst the Japanese prints, and has replaced an old painting we bought from a local dealer.  This old painting has a history of falsification, a print over painted with oils but it is very Yorkshireish.
When I look at the 'Spring Witch' it will remind me of the pale lemon of the primrose in Spring, it will remind me also of scouring the woods for mushrooms, but most of all the words will remind me to accept the fact that witches, fairies may not exist but it would be magical if they did. ;)

The last of the lilies have opened, a pale lemon

Wednesday

The love of my life said yesterday you haven't written anything for a couple of days but words do not necessarily spill out of my head at a moment's notice.  Politics have turned into 'The Mad Hatter's Tea Party' there is nothing to be said, except watch them spin on the proverbial head of a pin.

The weather remains hot though I heard a rumour of a hurricane on the way, think she is called Harriet.  Which is the name of the manager of the Sun Inn next door, they had their sign down yesterday as the sun had disappeared on it and were putting another transfer on.

Paul and Keith have finished tarting up the old notice board for our village, dug three foot holes for the post in soil that is like concrete and now it awaits Keith's artwork.  He is one of these ardent workers, going abroad every year to do voluntary work, such as Peru this year.  We are both in awe of him.

Have sourced a couple of blue Pekin bantams and will go on the weekend to collect them from the farm in Bedale, they are appearing at the Yorkshire Show tomorrow, so I hope no one snaps thems up.   It will be a bit like Lucy's claim to fame, in the fact that she has been to Portugal and lived there, though her prowess as a retrieving spaniel  was nil.  Now she is deaf, gunshot is something she doesn't hear.  But will I own prize winners?  And more importantly will Phoebe our one hen be good with two newcomers.

And I got a new 'igloo' type hedgehog house which now sits snugly under the bush out of sight,  I think our wild life must be suffering in all this hot dry weather.  No worms or insects, though there are thousands of little black beetles all over the roses.  The young badger their mothers, baby sparrows dance up and down for seed, jackdaws strut the lawn gobbling everything in sight when I throw out food, and yesterday a fledgling swallow almost crashed into me, squeaking with fright.

Sunday 8th July

The time of the lillies

Church's coke house, though originally according to listed building info, this was a watch house.  Which means the 'lock-up' in olden times when drunken drovers rolled out of the small ale houses that lined the village street.

Yesterday the world stopped for a short time while England won the match against the Swedish team, can I say that I always feel sorry for the losing side (not the least bit competitive).  But unfortunately the match coincided with the church's annual event of strawberry teas! So not many people turned up.  We had moved the pews in the morning to form horseshoe squares, and the books came in, the raffle prizes and various things to sell.

Also, no old boiler to make the tea but a state of the art water dispenser which hands out ice water or boiling water at the switch of a button.  I must admit I love the people who make it happen, there was Graham with his grandson Harvey, who wanted to watch the match, I had tried my computer in the church that morning for him but it only picked up the house on the other side.  But  his mother's phone relayed the information as he sat outside, and he would come running into the church when goals were made, two as we know.

Christina on the cake stall, yes I bought a chocolate one for Lillie now in the freezer, I even bought three books for £2, 'A Year in Provence' does anyone remember the scorn with which it was received? Wiki hint...

"In 1993, the BBC produced a television miniseries based on the book, starring Lindsay Duncan and John Thaw, with appearances from Alfred Molina and James Fleet amongst others. Unlike the book, the miniseries was not well received by critics; A Year in Provence was later placed at number ten on a Radio Times list of the worst television programmes ever made with the writer, John Naughton, describing it as a "smugathon ... which achieved the near impossible – creating a John Thaw vehicle nobody liked".

Time travels on.  Read an article yesterday that said the world is in its hottest period since goodness knows when, and on the news this morning they are already beginning the rescue in Thailand of the 12 boys and their coach, what a worrying time, it will take 11 hours to get each child out.

CHINESE PROVERB.

Because they have song,

not because they have answers,

is why the birds sing.

Mouses

The other day I ordered a wired mouse for my computer, because the new wireless mouse, seemed to go through batteries at an enormous pace.  Ordered from Dell, I had specific details of when it would arrive, which was Wednesday and tracking device email.  Well it did not, mine was 86 in the delivery line and when I checked, the poor delivery driver had a 100 deliveries.

No moaning from me, and yesterday he turned up on the doorstep and as I signed asked him how many deliveries this day - 108, he had not even stopped for a meal.  Asked how he felt about this, he said he would stop internet shopping, except on Wednesdays.

Slave labour? overworked, makes you think every time we press that button too buy, some poor sod has to deliver it!  Yes I know it is a job but one not properly paid for, he will never get rich on a service wage.  Perhaps we should start looking at the world in a different way but not Amazon drones!

The mouse works fine Sharon, (who also has had problems with wireless mouses) but have just commited another 'sin' ordered a hedgehog house because I found some hedgehog poo on the front doorstep.

Thursday 5th July

Strawberries and raspberries from our local PYO shop, though to be quite honest, you can only pick over the weekend.  These beautiful fruits from Sinnington tasted as good as they looked, and though there are the makings there of Eton Mess we ate them as they came.  The wife makes her own chutneys, jams, cakes, both chocolate and coffee, plus scones and of course meringues, plus they run a small nursery on the side. Hardworking.

Lucy and I went round the fields yesterday, it was much cooler, the two fields by the river are just kept for hay but both owned by different farms.  So one was cut, the other field grasses as tall as an 'elephants eye'.  But the verges had meadowsweet springing to life along with the blue of the wild cranesbill.  Meadowsweet has such a myth around it, its sweet aroma strewn on the floor of many a medieval house.  But according to a Wiki entry.

"meadowsweet has been found with the cremated remains of three people and at least one animal in a Bronze Age cairn at Fan Foel, Carmarthenshire. Similar finds have also been found inside a Beaker from Ashgrove, Fife, and a vessel from North Mains, Strathallan. These could indicate honey-based mead or flavoured ale, or might suggest the plant placed on the grave as a scented flower"

A Wiki capture of meadowsweet in Wharfedale, North Yorkshire

Himalayan Balsam rears its rather pretty head along the river, the cut field has  cut the heads off, the other field has allowed it to grow, but this could be because the farm has recently been sold and is under restoration.

Mr. Trump =  Wasteman ;)

Wednesday morning

Roses and the 'everlasting' sweet pea, at least the perennial pea which produces masses of long runners that flop even though I have strung them up. 

Each day I go around and look at my poor thirsty plants, but just keep my vegetables watered, and check on the bees.  Not many, though our lawn is covered in short white clover, I only ever count about 6 at a time.  George Monbiot wrote 'In Memoriam'

 "I will not allow myself to forget again: I will work to recover the knowledge I have lost. For I now see that without the power of memory, we cannot hope to defend the world we love."

Counting the insects around us and we know they have disappeared, our local 'hospital for hedgehogs' is inundated with sick hedgehogs, hoglets need feeding, their mothers lay squashed on the roads, and O by the way we won the ******* football last night, sorry but occasionally my cup overspills and roses don't compensate.  Plant foxgloves to watch the miracle of a bee gathering pollen, check that the other pollen feeders, the minute wasp like creatures are also there.

Nature is not punishing us because there is no rain, nature just works that way, but as I see the great tractors thundering by, I know the countryside is being dehumanised by industrialisation and I am powerless.

Strawberries feature at the church this weekend, which has been amalgamated into other parishes since we have no church warden.  Yesterday, Paul took my hand and showed me the new notice that has appeared on the notice board, basically because I could photograph it for him, perhaps I should take up the offer and pray for a better world, but I just know it won't happen!

Propped up against the fence is a large notice board, K has made three panels of history about the village, and both he and Paul are fixing the noticeboard, when finished and large posts have been dug into the parched earth, passing people such as walkers will be able to learn something about the village.

Though I moan about the lack of bees, one of our plum trees is heavy with green fruit, and also the cultivated (although it doesn't play the game of cultivation with its viscious thorns!) blackberries shows promise of a heavy crop.
Not forgetting to say Happy Independence Day to American readers, and there is good news, the 12 boys and their coach being found alive was wonderful...

Monday 2nd July

Today we need to go to to the framers to have my print framed.  I would like to introduce you to Colin Blanchard video for it will show the hard work that goes into one of his prints....

I corresponded by email, he is a lovely man and Paul is interested in going to see his workshop/barn in Eskdalemuir. He paints with words and pictures which I love, telling a friend that I had done this and he threw up his hands in horror! He collects industrial oil paintings of the North, a soft sentimental picture on the wall for goodness sake ;)

Of course Chinese and Japanese art also have words on their scrolls, what you put on your wall reflects what you like to see.  Here in this small sitting room we have a dark brown (I think linen) painted scroll on the wall with what I call 'devil gods' scattered around the main god. To me that is something 'collected' not loved.

Thursday

The roses will come to an end soon, and maybe this blog for the time being, as I consider the way forward. But some flowers the garden has produced and a new rose, the stripey 'Rosamundi' an old rose that always intrigues me.

Dark and dramatic mallow, must have grown it from seed, there are pink and white forms in the garden

Debatable Land

Are the goldfinch ghost children

Their cattle chores done for two thousand years.

A small token from a long poem written by the printer artist, Colin Blanchard.  It is about the Iron Age hillforts above the White Esk river, three so far. This hill fort Bailiehill lies above the conjunction of the White Esk into the main river The Esk.  So many stories bounce around in the air, as the occupants all those years ago guarded their stretch of the river.  If you go but a few miles to the North, in fact just before the Tibetan monastery there is a Roman Fort (and bank barrow), did the Romans destroy these strongholds in the hills?

Bailiehill; As you explore this site you'll find features resembling those of Castle O'er about 3K to NW. Were they both at one stage frontier fortresses? This may have been "Debatable Land" between the territories of the Novantae to the west and their neighbours the Selgovae in what are now the Borders. There were probably clashes from time to time.

The first sizeable earthworks on the way up are probably the most recent, comparable with the 'annexe' earthworks at Castle O'er. They may have been used to for cattle ranching in the later life of the site. Looking over the wall, you'll see that, because of agriculture over the centuries, it's now impossible to trace the continuation of the 'annexe' earthworks in the two fields to the east of the site.

Moving on up to the summit, you can see that it is crowded with circular house scoops or platforms of two kinds:

• larger buildings defined by a ditch and outer wall foundations -'ring-ditch houses'.
• simple round platforms on which wooden houses were built. Smaller than the 'ring-ditch houses'.

Bessie's Hill fort; This fort must have served as a lookout post 

for the Castle O'er 'estate'. Keen eyed watchers would miss very little that went on in the upper valley, and would be able to send a runner along the ridge to Castle O'er in good time for reinforcements to be on their way to help deal with any threats approaching down the valley.

The pattern with fortified holdings elsewhere in the valley is for the entrance to open onto the yard, with the roundhouses on the far side from it. Find the entrance (SE) and look for evidence of a similar pattern here. Tussocky grass makes this difficult. A patch of rushes may indicate where at one time a well existed.

As at The Knowe, imagine the ramparts about half as high again with some form of palisade built into the structure, and the ditch half as deep again, and this may give you an idea of the site when it was fully defended. Again as at the Knowe there is little fortification overlooking the abrupt slope down towards the Esk. Only the most determined enemies would attack up this slope!
Canmore explanation

Castle O'er Hill fort;  As you approach the top you see two and here and there three separate ramparts, which in places are cut into the bedrock. It's likely that in the early period of the site none of these existed, and that there were only huts surrounded perhaps by a palisade.

On the hilltop it is suggested that the innermost ramparts on the edge of the summit (II) were later insertions inside the earlier ramparts, which were downhill from them. (IA, IB). This, in the form of a thick stone wall, gave defenders a smaller perimeter to defend against attack, and with better natural advantages. The imposing entrance fortifications to the southwest also belong to a later stage.

Having reached the top, look first at the circular "footprints" of the dwellings. They are huts (round houses), apparently lined up along a 'street', but be wary of assuming that all of them were lived in at the same time; in fact their footprints overlap. You can check by pacing that some were about 10m in diameter.

Much later the outlying annexe (defined by the earthworks C) was added to the settlement. These formed a boundary rather than a defensive wall, possibly for herding and containing livestock. The site plan also indicates that the fort is at the centre of a mysterious system of linear depressions with earthworks beside them. It is thought that these might have been to aid the herdsmen as they drove their cattle and sheep up towards the settlement.

These settlements/hill forts were settled over a long period of time, I suppose the gentler Bronze Age gave way to warring, perhaps over land or animals, and of course the rivers, the sole means of transport would have been vital highways.

Girdle stones; is this the entrance two stones with other stones brought here by later farmers as they cleared the fields?

Do not get lost in the woods!

Three days in Scotland in Dumfries and Galloway

Mostly this post will be taken up by photos, three marvellous days in a remote place but with a zing that is hard to put down. We went to the Samye Ling monastery, and one of the female Buddhists told me all about the founding of it.  So simple, there was me thinking Cistercian monks finding a place in the wild - but it wasn't.  Two Buddhists were offered a falling down old house because the owner could not keep it up.  Over the years it has turned into a complex of dormitories, retreat, magnificent temple and shop and small cafe. Is it not extraordinary?.... inner sanctum is full of detail.

Taken from the internet...

It was but a mile away from our lodgings which were also Tibetan inspired in the colours of yellow and orange.  And then just down the road we had a couple of stone circles Girdle Stanes and Loupin Stanes and this on the 21st June, the longest day of the year.  But these stone circles event happens at the other end of the year in November.

All this in a countryside somewhat overshadowed by industrialised forestry but beneath the great trees the bones of the earth were beautiful.  Rivers shallowly murmured their way along, lapwings flew overhead, the valleys were gentle moulded, a bit like when you knead dough.  Houses, some in a terrible condition, as if the owner had died and left the home to rot, with cars overgrown with vegetation and dirty curtains flapping at the broken windows.

The river had moved and cut this stone circle in half, across the river to the right was a small graveyard with old graves but no church in sight and no houses either.  Weird, had they planted their dead by the circles?

The sun shone  most of the time we were there, and following the line of the river through the valley we came across some beautiful places, even the dark spooky atmosphere of tall evergreens can hold their magic, though not the great lorries full of tree trunks we met on the first day.

The other smaller circle

The negatives: Two towns both about 14 miles apart, Langholm and Lockerbie.  Langholm was a disappointment, we managed to find the Co-op  stuck at the end of a housing estate.  And of course no pubs in the vicinity as well for Paul!  The place we stayed in, Eskdalemuir was sparsely inhabited though it did have a marvellous cafe called The Hub that had been built on to an old school which housed an art exhibition of prints. Trying to buy one at the moment....

thinking historically

 "The accession of a female ruler in Mercia is described by the historian Ian Walker as "one of the most unique events in early medieval history".  Whoops why are women who have MADE IT in English history, so exceptional?  I suppose the answer is we never think about it.  Elizabeth 1st (and 2nd) are both figureheads as was Victoria but the rest be they artists or writers miss out on the important person list;)

So who is Walker talking about, well it was King Alfred's daughter, expect you have heard about him but her history has also been noted for her ability to run the Anglo- Saxon kingdom of Mercia. Aethelflaed, for that was her name ruled from AD 911 to her death in 918.  There is a video of her mock burial in Gloucester .I believe the Saxon women had much more equality than their later medieval sisters and a burial of a presumed Saxon Princess just by the coast near Whitby at Loftus gives some idea. 

As an aside;  Did I ever go on to write part 2, ?

I have been reading  Virginia Woolf, her writing is so delicate, can think of no other word as her thoughts sink into the written words.  Her book ' A Room of One's Own' strikes out in a true feminist mode but of course is a historical account of the early 20th century, we have moved on though.  Though there are plenty of threads that still need picking up so that equality rules supreme!

Anyway a couple of thoughts I picked up from her, the first, like a snake we slough off our ruffled emotional skins of the day, is rather comforting.

The second, an analogy of mirrors and warfare not too sure about this, brings to mind the Celtic mirrors for some reason.

Iron Age Mirror

1) I thought at last that it was time to roll up the crumpled skin of the day, with its arguments and its impressions and its anger and its laughter, and cast it into the hedge.

2) Women have served all these centuries as looking-glasses possessing the magic and delicious power of reflecting the figure of  man at twice its natural size.  Without that power the earth would probably be still swamp and jungle, the glories of all our wars would still be unknown.  We should still be scratching the outlines of deer on the remains of mutton bones and bartering flint for sheepskins or whatever simple ornament took our unsophisticated taste............Whatever may be their use in civilized societies mirrors are essential to all violent and heroic action.

Sunday's this and that

Sunday; From where I sit I can see three collared doves, two of which must be the young for they harass the third. Then there are the phlox coming out, remnants of the old garden.  Some flowers hang their heads after the wind and the storm we had yesterday evening, the honeysuckle remains upright as does the blackberry, full of flower and the promise of blackberries and then a red rose.

The plum tree branches hang heavy with green plums, threatening to break the young branches, behind them a rose I am not too keen on think it is Clarence House, must check.  Then the roses that bind the church wall, Jam and Jerusalem, magnificently coloured, (almost too much) flirts with the grass, must cut it back after flowering.  The pink roses look blowsy but there is a yellow/pale pink that holds promise.

I see a 'worthy' gentleman of the land has been appointed as a 'tree guardian' Sir William Worsley lives just down the road (well about 10 miles away) at Hovingham Hall.  Michael Gove our environment minister has appointed him to look after the trees of this country, without pay as well!

My estimation of Gove has gone slightly up, perhaps thinking of him as 'Mr.Toad of Toad Hall' got him his job,  as to what needs to be done for the environment but I am not holding my breath.

Huffington News gives a breakdown of the news, first time I have come across Huffington on the internet, it used to go through F/B but now I never see it.  Well I wish Worsley all the best in his job, he has plenty to do, what with stopping the decimation of trees in Sheffield, and what is this the firm who are cutting down the trees hold Sheffield Council to hostage with a 30 million pound contract break fee.  Then there is HS2 and the cutting down of old woods along the new trackway.  Does the North need this new rail link from London, or would it rather see the money spent on linking Northern cities with each other?
Time for coffee.....

Saturday 16th June

Well watching a robot funeral service this morning from Japan and captured on a National Geographic video, I sat slightly stunned by it, wondering where the overlap of religion and robots evolved.  In the video it was stated that Buddhist thought encompassed all things, but respecting technical gizmos?  Evolution is a funny old game, we evolve to keep up with changing circumstances, hopefully as climate change takes hold we hope that both flora and fauna will keep up, but transferring our 'feelings' to a walkabout dog takes some beating.

Yet there was a farming programme this morning talking about farms completely run by technology, the only drawback is not very good satellite or internet coverage in some parts of the country but robotic running of many businesses is now round the corner.  Think Amazon's drone service, though not up and running yet, and slightly scary given Cro's video this morning of someone nicking the parcels off the front doorstep.

Science fiction scenarios are beginning to emerge, must admit I prefer them to be fictional stories, artificial intelligence is a bit scary.  An airway of buzzy drones over your head, little balls floating around keeping an eye on you, what will the human race be reduced to?

Friday, 15th June

There should always be an elephant in the room!

 This photo will remind me of the storm, it took Rachel's rose bush off the surround of her front door, it will remind me that honeysuckle is a favourite plant and is garnishing the wild hedges of Wales.

Do you remember Mog, his author Judith Kerr was 94 (it might be 95) yesterday

I have always loved the picture books of younger children and took great delight in the stories of Mog.  I read an article about Kerr, who was Jewish and her family had fled to England.  She wrote that famous story 'The Tiger who came to Tea'.  The tiger walked into this little girl's house ate all the food up, drank all the water and then left, never to return.  Well this critic said that the story rested on the fact that Kerr's family had to flee Germany, 'rubbish' said Kerr I told the story, completely made up, to my young son. Sometimes we become too educated in our analysis and forget simplicity.  As for my other favourite children books, Asterik takes some beating and then there is Graham Oakley's 'Church Mice',

"The Times Literary Supplement, for example, noted that Oakley shows "how effectively words and pictures can be crafted together, so that our understanding of the story depends on the two"

Sadly my grandchildren have all grown into far more sensible readers, Lillie at 11 years old has was reading 'The Handmaid's Tale' last time I saw her, not exactly cheerful!

Thursday 14th June

Order, Order;  Yes The House dissolved into another day of silly squabbles!  How can I live in a country with such an antiquated system of government and politicians who sound like a herd of over excited animals.  Whoops and an enormous spider has just flipped across the carpet, it must have come in to escape a very windy outside, Storm Hector has arrived. (All that hot air in parliament had to go somewhere!)

I have noticed unhappiness creeping into several blogs, there is no solution as this country creeps nearer to meltdown, what do we need? probably more people to pull together, as they did in the village yesterday.  Keith tackled the overgrown verge in front of the church with lawnmower and strimmer and then someone came along, think it must have been David and painted the bench, quietly done, no fuss.

Well I just went along to a local garden opening, the garden was beautiful and sooooooooo well kept. Delicious cakes went with the tea served, welcome to middle England, and I never thought I would say that.  Politeness reigned, the flowers bloomed, hard work everywhere.  Vegetables planted so neatly in rows (he was a farmer in another life), no weeds in the beds, wild flower meadow, it was like a sanctuary of peace and quietness.
And the icing on the cake, a couple of house martins on the green outside.

you can just see my two friends on the right.

Hawkweed in abundance

My blessing for the day would be: ;) May your vegetables grow in straight lines, and your mind rest easy in tranquility and peace.