Angoras

Not mine, mine were grey and less hairy, plucking a bad tempered angora was no fun!

Browsing around in my mind for something to write I went and read other blogs, Weaver of Grass mentioned that fox hunting would soon begin in her area sadly.  It reminded me of the urban foxes we lived with in our small satellite village to Bath.  Weston, or Upper Weston as opposed to the low life of Lower Weston (okay I'm joking, but the idea of superiority always makes me giggle) in actual fact Lower Weston was called 'Chelsea Road' basically because there was a row of shops down there.  Enough of Bath history, get back to foxes!  Well we lived in a leafy part with large gardens, mostly due to the fact that it was a valley.  So foxes and badgers visited at night from the surrounding fields, but for a time I kept angora rabbits for spinning their wool, so a particular Mr Fox loved to come and visit, and would sleep in the afternoon in the flowerbed below their hutches.  Now apart from their runs on the lawn, one rabbit would always be lolloping around free when I was in the garden, so their safety was assured.  But one day Bracken (named after a Bath rugby player) with a gorgeously coloured apricot coat had hiked it up the steps to the front garden, a loud squealing said she was in trouble, and there was the fox trying to grab hold of her, hampered of course by her long coat.  She survived unscathed, a tough little rabbit and imperious to foot.

But a friend, long since gone sadly, on the other side of the valley would feed the foxes at night, and it brought back the memory of the fact that he painted, so I went and looked him up.  Henry Cliffe was apparently born in Scarborough, and you can read his biography in the above attached link.  His work was abstract as you can see from the following picture.  Lot of memories come tumbling back, his wife Valerie was also a teacher at the Bath School of Art, she had a library full of beautiful art books, even now as I write I remember seeing her for the last time  ill and alone in her flat but with a lovely smile on her face as we talked about the humdrum things that needed doing as we waited for the ambulance to take her to the private hospital her son had booked.