Its been a quiet week, I have deserted my computer except when necessary, the soothing sound of my spinning wheel, with the slight click of the foot pedal is more to my keeping; no continuous news on the radio just the birds in the tree outside. Listened to the harsh cry of the crow, and thought of Hughes piercing poetry on the bird. Listened to the gentler sparrows as they chirrup themselves awake in the early morning, the blue tits are back, and also the grey collared doves feeding greedily as the weather turns colder.
We have'nt actually been anywhere this week except to town, and the only highlight there was sitting in the mall drinking coffee at Starbucks with the swirl of people passing by. A young lad brought out a tray of chocolate pots which he gave away to customers and passers-by, and it was lovely to see people surprised and happy to receive something free.
Checked on my sitemeter to see what people read, popular are my two blogs on romano/celtic Bath and genii cucullati and I noted how unfinished they are! Up comes photos of the snow I took last year, and I begin to see what a good idea a blog is, for we can look back, it is a visual diary that records the daily events though of course it is also public and so has to be approached with some caution.
Thinking why my thoughts turn to Celtic Britain, it must be to do with the time of year - Halloween - the rising of the dead from the grave yards, if you would believe the folklore! At Whitby the Goths taking to the streets dressed in black in celebration of Bram Stoker's 'Dracula, a fairly longwinded and boring book, but the base tale for all those later Hammer horror films. Photos from about three years ago, show an ageing goth cult, but perhaps it would be interesting to go into their history as to why they dress up in such sombre fashion.
The 199 steps up to the Abbey with the tramp of thousands of feet daily
Whitby street full of tourists
They posed for my camera
This photo needs some explanation, it was taken on a drive out over the bleak Yorkshire coast, in actual fact what you see is the footings for a great bonfire on bonfire night in this little cove, an event which is attended by many. What you don't see is the bleakness of this area when the local steel works closed down (Corus). The little village with the allotments stretched up the hill looking forlorn and poor. This calamity four years back, is being echoed today as we head for massive cuts in budgets and jobs. Yesterday in the Guardian, the sad sight of a horse tethered on an Irish housing estate hungry and with skin disease, they are talking of culling the starving horses that have been turned out by their owners because of the so called Celtic Tiger having died a miserable death. People are paying for the foolishness of their governments and greedy bankers who gambled with our pensions and savings; sadly heads will not roll, its just the ordinary people who have to pay.