21st May 2025

This weekend we are off down South to see Andrew's parents and the 'jungle garden' of course.  Hopefully I can get my new camera working how I want and there will be some photos.  I did look to see if there were any camera courses in the area but no luck.  It will be a 6.30 train and then through London and then another train to Sussex.

Tonight I have said I will go into Manchester with Andrew to meet up with my daughter and oldest grandson Tom, and his financee (gosh that is an old-fashioned word) Ellie to see how the wedding plans are going along.

Jessie, a friend of Lillie, will look after the cat.  She seems a sweet girl and wants to work with animals.  You would think there would an animal shelter in this small town with the lost dogs and cats around but no.   

I am sure I saw a report of a wallaby around Tod the other day and apparently there are a few in England bouncing around, so it maybe is a true sighting.

One of the problem is of course is now the veterinary centres have been taken over by the pet insurance companies and the whole thing of looking after animals has become so expensive.  We are of course following in America's footsteps.  I find the dressing up of dogs really queer, the poor creatures have become play toys.

 

19th May 2025 - Folklore Meeting and Robin Hood

 Through the 1950s my brother and I watched 'Robin Hood'.  We probably had bows and arrows as well (rubber cup on the end of the arrow maybe)  We accepted that Robin was part of our history and never doubted his existence in past times.  Yet one of the funny things when I moved here was to see placenames with his name on it.  But according to my knowledge of the story it was set around Nottingham  with the robber den hidden amongst the trees of Sherwood Forest.  Well Nottingham is quite a way down South from here, with only it's border touching Yorkshire. Which as everyone should know is a very large county. Sherwood in days gone past was an enormous forest, so perhaps the forest spread as far as Yorkshire.  But then what was Robin doing at Robin Hood Bay on the East coast.  Well apparently he was fighting pirates as well.

Stories turn on the twist of words, and this tale had many manifestations.  But somehow my childhood reflection is the one I want to keep.  But it did make me think of another story and its' truth.

There is the tale that Bath's founding father was Bladud.  A young prince who was thrown out of his father's court because he had leprosy.  So poor Bladud had to look after pigs and become a pig herder.  One day he noticed that his pigs who had skin complaints, rolled in a hot muddy stream and got better so he tried it and his leprosy disappeared.  He was allowed back into the bosom of his family and went on to found the City of Bath.  Well linguists have had fun and games with all the naming of place-names. But the simplicity of the word Bath had been arrived at a much later date.  The Romans called it Aqua Sulis, after the water and the Iron Age goddess Sulis, who is named on one of the cursus which were once found in the fountain there.

Well today as I pottered around and learnt a few more facts.  It was Geoffrey of Monmouth who told the tale of Bladud  in the 12th century and his understanding was coloured, let us say, by Roman and Greek books of various tales told.  

In the telling of the tale Bladud tried to fly and died as a result of this (Icarus who flew to close to the sun is the motif here).  But where did Geoffrey get the idea of flying?  Well here we go to probably the most famous Celtic head which was found in Bath, and which has two tiny wings hidden in the mane of hair.

The great Celtic Head that faced you at the entrance on the temple pediment as you walked in.

His symbolic image brings both Roman and British images of a god together in one.  The Romans were clever enough not to enforce their gods on the locals and there is a marriage of the gods that is reflected in the Romano-British population that eventually flourished in Bath and elsewhere.

This head has been classified in the past with the 'Gorgon' head of snakes.  In fact there are many interpretations as you will see in this Wiki. The melding of both Sulis, local water goddess and Roman Minerva at the hot springs is to me the practical answer. It says in the Wiki that this was carved by a Gaulish craftsman in the 1st century AD.  Read Miranda Aldhouse- Green The Gods of the Romans on the Gaulish gods for a clearer picture. 

Even now all these years later this head still fills me with curiosity,  I sometimes use it as my banner on the side to give me courage as I venture out into the written word.

So why write about it now when I live on the West Yorkshire/lancashire border? Well strangely enough there are a few heads to be found up here.  Rather scary ones as a matter of fact and I have never studied them, feeling that the Northern reaches have a more militaristic Roman history and the heads could belong to the foreign mercenaries that kept the border strong in the North.

Robin Hood's Bay  

17th May 2025

The Wizard of Todmorden, modern of course.  Yesterday Andrew and I went for lunch at the Folklore Centre just around the corner.  I wanted him to see the marvellous library of books upstairs in the building.  Holly greeted us warmly and served vegan soup.  I had mushroom, and was a little taken back by no cream added but it would take sometime for me to adjust to veganism.

I dearly want the centre to survive but it has to make its own money, and after only a short period of opening the cafe bit they have a customer problem.  Why? Well the red brick building next to it is the Hippodrome, which has just won some money and now is spending it on building work to make a cinema room upstairs.  The building work has sprawled across the pavement, forcing people to walk in the road and it is said that it will be a year before it is removed.  Holly says footfall has fallen dramatically because of this.  Car parking is not a problem, there are two supermarkets over the road and  it has always seemed to me that there are plenty of people at the talks.

Apparently at the beginning of the 20th century the block of buildings you see above was financed by one man, and that includes the enormous Hippodrome next to the centre.  He unfortunately bankrupted himself but left behind a good legacy.  The centre was at one time the offices/printworks? of a local rag called 'Todmorden Herald'.  Now long defunct.  It would be interesting to find out the history, but nothing seems to be online, so a visit to the local library is called for.

Nothing else of interest, except, maybe the long conversation I had with my son about transhumanism, apparently there is even a party of them in the USA.  Let us say that Musk and Mark Zuckerberg must have their fingers in the pie there.  I have this picture of talking heads but no bodies, except of course there will have to be some sort of transport.  But it has all been done before.  See Bran the Talking Head.

 Home | Centre for Folklore Myth Magic

15th May 2025

Oh dear we have to get rid of men ;) ;)  From the Guardian via Rebecca Solnit, they use up too much of the Earth's resources and drive cars, though I thought women did as well.

Murr being her usual wickedly funny written self  Now Murr has a very funny bone inside her, it is the way she looks at the world from, often, a purely nature inspired blog.

Someone will have to give his totally over the top plane back.  As if, forgot he is totally above the law.

************************************

I really cannot cope with what is going on in the world today, even its humour escapes me.  But checking through my photo files I came across 'Collections'. It was Paul's file of the multitude of things he collected.  I wonder what happened to the old straw firemen's Japanese uniforms that were soaked before they tackled a fire.  He was a great collector, I have the opposite tendency trying to off load my possessions, I hope his sons treasure them though, as will Leo his grandson when he grows up.

Amitahba - Buddha of Eternal Light

A wooden Mejii shop sign

Japanese Kanamona (metal fitting) of a hare dancing amongst waves

Japanese Buddhist Vajra

And of course my favourite large painting that hung on the wall.  It would probably have been displayed at the entrance to a temple to ward away evil.  Somewhere in my blogs I have written of it.  And here it is.

Two Carp Leaping among Waves by Tsukioka Shuei (died 1839) mid-late Edo period

12th may 2025

 The Rights of Nature is a legal and philosophical framework that recognizes the inherent rights of ecosystems and natural entities to exist, thrive, and regenerate, fundamentally shifting how we view and interact with the environment.

Definition and Significance

The Rights of Nature concept acknowledges that ecosystems, including rivers, forests, and wildlife, possess inherent rights similar to human rights. This framework challenges traditional views that treat nature merely as property to be exploited for human benefit. Instead, it emphasizes the interconnectedness of all life forms and the need for legal recognition of nature's rights to ensure its protection and sustainability. 

I have gone on ad-nauseam about how nature is an interlinking system, it is recognised more clearly now but the question of whether nature has rights, like for instance we have in Human Rights has been a matter of discussion.  We rape the ground of its minerals and in so doing create damaged ecosystems and the departure of indigenous people from their homelands.  We are so clever at selling our, or other countries, commodities on the Stock Exchange, that we barely notice the disastrous consequences.

MacFarlane had mentioned the Ecuadorian court case when a Rights of Nature law suit was brought - and won.  He had been visiting the Cloud Forest there where the battle to save it from prospectors had been fought out.  The prospecting for minerals and gold is a dirty world of forcing the indigenous people out and the killing of them.  Then when the trees are cut down, rivers become polluted with chemicals, the prize is won but only at the cost of the animals, insects and flora. 

The truth though lies in the fact that we as humans are totally dependent on Nature to provide for us and our ability to destroy it will result in our own destruction.  So all those nice cosy things we love so much, our cars and fancy furniture will not hold up against flood, fire and plagues.  A thing we are experiencing at the moment with Climate Change.

I think there is a 'creep' of legal justice that protects our environment in our country as well, the recent court case of the sycamore tree cut down by two men on Hadrian's Wall is evidence of this.  As also the destructive path that HS2 took through the countryside.  People stood by their trees not allowing them to be cut down, there is a symbiotic nature between humans and trees.  Rejoicing in them as we do when the first leaves of spring show their pale beauty and then the sadness at Autumn as the leaves die leaving a crumpled mess of brown leaves on the ground. Though of course regeneration of the leaves back into the soil creates the new life with its millions of bacteria.

Has the law been applied to the fouling of our rivers and lately the lakes in the Lake District though, the water companies are fined but does the money go back to cleanse the rivers?

According to this article a recent fine of £11 million pounds for several water companies will go to restoration  and not into the Treasury.  But this meagre amount of money is questioned by Charles Watson, Head of River Action who says.

“Every pound that is given to local communities to restore rivers is welcome and we are grateful for that, but the money in this fund is just a rounding error compared to how shareholders and lenders have been paid out by the water firms." ................

Edit:  Well coincidentally, the news rams on, whether you want another grey male from Thames Water trying to justify large salaries or bonuses from the money the government is giving them to make thing better, take your choice.  Well it will improve the bank balances of the company chairmen.  And of course we are heading into drought this summer.  

10th May 2025

 How did the day go?  Mostly I have been tired, this is Mollie's fault.  Listened to the new Macfarlane book - Are River's Alive' and thought  who hasn't seen a Welsh river which has splashed and sparkled with life, so yes to that.  Or seen the slow graceful movements of grayling in an Essex river.  The sadness of the River Wye down South being destroyed  by chicken waste is heartbreaking.  A classic slow moving river roaming through a beautiful countryside.  We load the rivers with s**t and then watch them die.  I can remember as a child going fishing in Wales for trout, my father went salmon fishing as well.  In a small clean river, you could lay on your tummy and tickle trout and maybe catch an eel.

I picked up another book as well this by an old friend of long ago, it is called 'Theodore and Eliza by Susan Harvard.  It looked a heavyweight in words but is surprisingly interesting.  It harks back to Princess Diana's great, great (there might be a couple more greats) grandparents.  Theodore is in service to the government and he falls in love with an Armenian girl and they marry.  He is sent to the Honourable East India Company  and then after a couple of years to Mocha in Yemen to run The Factory.  He dies though at the early age of 32 years old, on a boat transporting him to England so that he could visit his parents in Scotland.  Also his 6 years old daughter Kitty.

Eliza sadly does not benefit much in his will, she is referred to as the housekeeper, though he settles a good amount on his children.  These two were in love but of course the stigma of the time marrying someone from another race must have been the trigger.  So this is where Princess Diana ancestry comes from.  And that is all I have read so far.

It took Susan over 30 years to gather together the information, and she also went to Yemen to try to find out more.  Here she met a 10 year Yemeni boy who showed her the ruined interior of a merchant's house and she writes below the photograph 'may he live and thrive throughout his country's troubled times'. Such a difference to the words voiced today.  

Susan was so good through the death of my first husband, they  were all a band of friends at Oxford together and I shall always remember this period of time as both happy and sad.

But not to get too down what I meant to write today was about Nine Wells just outside Solva.  I camped round here several times and wandered around the cliffs.  There is an abundance of history lying just under the surface.  From cromlechs to WW2 runways and a mill and also a water building, both of which had disappeared.  Yet look at it now, nothing shows under its verdant carpet of green.  Somewhere along the coast someone has named a little hamlet 'Land of the Druids = Llandruidion, all that seems to remain is an old farmhouse.

On the left hand side of the inlet is a promontory fort called Port y Rhaw, you can practically find these prehistoric settlements every half mile along this coast line.  

Llandruidion © Natasha Ceridwen de Chroustchoff cc-by-sa/2.0 :: Geograph Britain and Ireland

Nine Wells supplied Llanruidion water tower with water for St Davids

Site of Iron Age fort, Porth y Rhaw - History Points

9th May 2025

Well the Pope is chosen Leo X1V.  A youngish pope this time and from America. He is to follow in the footsteps of the last pope, so liberal and green I believe.  His name made me think of Matilda's boyfriend's name which I can never remember but I have to think of the devil, then go to Lucifer and then Lucien which is his name.  Surprisingly he is not happy with my thinking.

VE Day passed yesterday, I have seen the pictures on the blogs but did not see the ceremony itself. Commemorating war is a difficult one for me, especially as war is still with us today, there never seems an end to it.  For me Paul Nash's painting of a stricken landscape paints it vividly enough and yet we are seeing the same horrors as yesterday's wars created.

Paul Nash - War

Death and desolate landscapes, mud and bravery are the reminder, not Vera Lynn singing 'We'll Meet Again'.  We pay homage to the brave young who lay down their lives for us but we still allow war on our planet and let new mothers break their hearts.

As the end of the war came to halt I was born, so really did not experience it.  Though I remember a sheaf of war drawings we had so I must have been aware of it.  Even today crystal clear comes the memory when I was about 7 years old of a drawing I made of refugees on a cart with all their belongings piled high.  The teacher asked how did I know about such things, perhaps it was one of those drawings that sparked my drawing but now refugees flood the world because of war and cruelty - nothing has changed, it is profitable to make guns!

Edit:  Views on the Pope and people I listen to:

Alistair Campbell and Rory Stewart

And Anthony  Scaramucci and Katy Kay

 

 ‘Protest shapes the world’: Rebecca Solnit on the fight back against Trump | Activism | The Guardian

wittering - where is the balance

The family have departed this morning into their various routines.  Andrew went for a swim, my daughter to work and a rather sad Lillie back to London.  She will cope, these four chose to go to London to seek their fortunes,  Ben and Matilda have started on the long journey of employment in their chosen areas.  Also Tom who works in Manchester.  I also went to work in London and was there quite happily for a few years but the pull of the 'big city' is always there when you are young.

Now I cope with eyesight that I suppose is failing me.  it started a few years back when I found my judgment level difficult.  For instance cutting with scissors I am about a quarter of an inch out though I can still thread a needle.  I view all this with my usual questing mind, how far is far I wonder? I got rid of my car instantly, driving since 17 years old it was a bit of a shock but now as I walk into the Lidl car park I feel a certain superiority.  The thing is to order your life into a habit forming ideal of putting everything in their right place.  That is what I told my daughter this morning when I could not find the bread knife ;)  Whether there is enough time to turn tidy I have my doubts!

What is it I wish for my four grandchildren?  Well a better technical world than we have at the moment.  AI is a disaster waiting to happen.  Almost I could say that the computerised system is channeling our young down a dangerous void of opinionated, more often than not nonsense information, young males.  What happened in the handing out of genes that led the males to be more aggressive than the female.  It was a colossal mistake on the part of natural order.  

  

Actually the people around me are all gentle and perfectly focused (if you are reading me family) as I am sure the majority of the human population is.  It is just I went to Substack by mistake and watched two earnest young men analysis someone else's video.  We are all suddenly in the public limelight.  I sometimes think we should pull the plug on the internet and try to live without it.

At the heart of it all are the children of today moving away from the natural world we live in, prioritizing their human relationships above that of the world around them.  That homeostasis that Lovelock talked of is lacking not only in the natural world but within the social order.

Homeostasis is a self-regulating process by which biological systems tend to maintain stability. It is an organism’s process of maintaining a stable internal environment suitable for sustaining life. The word homeostasis derives from Greek, with home meaning “similar,” and stasis, meaning “stable”. Homeostasis is a state of steady internal, physical, chemical, and social conditions maintained by living systems. It is a technical term used in biology, physiology, and psychology. 

We have an obvious example in Trump at the moment, a chaotic figure causing a disruption in what is considered an even keeled Western society, if not elsewhere sadly.

  

But then the real world drops in,  Mollie is at my feet meowing her complaints once more.  Could it be fresh water, more food, the radiator turned up for more heat, or is she just  talking to me about world problems?

4th May 2025

My second shot of caffeine stands by my side in the form of coffee.  Will it awaken the dormant brain I'm saddled with?

Yesterday I went to a meeting at the Folklore Centre, the subject matter was 'When the British met Indian Folklore - A Megalithic Problem'  It sounds just right up my street but at first I had my doubts.  The lecturer seemed to concentrate on three males, who were in the army out there in the 19th century and who had decided to question the megalith building of cromlechs out in India.  Of course these three were outstanding examples of 'The Glorious Past of Britain'* out and out racist, observing from the fine heights of their superiority over the tribal nature of the people around them.  Interesting fact, this megalithic building still goes on, so there is not much to distinguish between old or modern.

But she made me think the lecturer about a place much nearer to home, the Prescelli hills with its prehistoric trackway that ran from Ireland through Wales down to Stonehenge. There are a lot of archaeological evidence in this area of prehistoric stones still not analysed.  

It is almost given, that the bluestones at Stonehenge were transported from one of the quarries in the hills.  There is an argument against it of course, saying that it was the glacials of an earlier time that had brought the bluestones to this corner of Wiltshire.  But thinking about it, why are there not other bluestones still littered around?

There was a good crowd there, but it seemed mostly that the men asked questions, even her husband who had driven her down, much to her crossness.  But the Folklore Centre is going from success to success, it is right next door to the old Hippodrome, which is also much used.  I do like the idea that civic use is part of these large buildings, whether film shows, plays or even the local children who go there for talks.  They file past the house two by two, chattering like birds, excited by the adventure.

*Why did I earmark that?  Well it was listening to the radio this morning and hearing that the Reform Party are going to remoralise our young and put up more statues to the great and good.  For god's sake don't these people understand their history?

Prescelli landscape

3rd May 2025

 "Most economists judge that the costs of the UK failing to pursue net zero will ultimately be greater than the costs of achieving it "   It is the same with HS2, an enormous sum of money down the drain.

I am tired these last few days, mind not working but the world still goes on. There are two faces I quickly scroll by on my screen.  The first is the 'orange one' and the second is Farage.  He has the intelligence of a gangster!  The votes split on the latest voting spree.  They always do when the incumbent government has only just started its term.   Interesting figures, Reform got just a fraction more votes, but coming up on the rail is the Liberal Party and....... The Green Party in the councils.  People know what they want but governments just govern on a different plain.

A thought. What would have happened that instead of getting London and its Southern counties as the main runners of government in Great Britain, the seat of power was up North?  Would the balance have taken a left keel and this strong motivation towards greed been stopped.

There is a strong suspicion that in fact Stonehenge was not the centre of the British Isles but Callanish and its stones and Scotland with its plethora of islands.

Callanish Stones - Wiki.  Tom Richardson

Going Gently put a fabulous video on yesterday of dancing.  Well here is my favourite, the dance itself is extraordinarily creative.  So I shall pretend I am young again and dance ;)

We have had beautiful weather the last week, warm and sunny but no rain and moor fires, this one up on Ripponden Moor.

What to write today? I have just read Murrmurs blog on doing a Birdathon this May.  There used to be a song about the merry month of May and the children dancing round the maypole.  Below you will see how Robert E fuller has recorded the wild animals that take over his children's climbing frame, now discarded because they are grown up, .

Andrew and my daughter arrived back from Naples over the weekend, and Tanaka, one of Andrew's children came for a couple of days from London.  They went to the Leeds football match, there was some sort of final celebration which meant they didn't get home till midnight, and then the front door key did not work, which made me giggle but it is a worry getting locked out!

Thinking about this was this a master plan of Andrews to visit the city of Naples because of Maradona, because as some of you will know he is supposed to have punched the greatest goal (with his hand which was illegal) in football.  'The Hand of God'  My last word on football.

Children are all doing fine, though there is a bit of a worry over Ben who is going over to New York this weekend.  Our families dry humour could take a beating through the customs, he has been told to take a clean new phone.  The famous car driver (whose name I have forgotten) is to give a speech at the  Met??  Tanaka was also over the moon, as a new job came through over the weekend.  Matilda scored over 200 applicants for her job, she is a clever girl ;) takes after her granny of course.  Though it is a copywriting job I think.  Lillie is also back this weekend to cook for the scouts up on the 'tops' in a weekend holiday break.

So enjoy the animals playing in their little oasis of a sanctuary, my favourite being the barn owls.  There used to be a lot round Normanby, their characteristic low flight as they hunted for the mice and vole over the fields.  

Edit; The Merry Month of May by William Bryd and sung by the King Singers.

        Robert Reich stirs the mob

And if you remember still -  It is International Worker's Day

Photos

 A few photos; We should be glad that technology has given us almost immediate records of the moment.  So as I flipped this morning, I stopped and gathered a few.

The first is Kirkbymoorside, a festival day.  The band plays, tractors roll through the town with hooters blaring and the sun shines.

 Spring has arrived at Normanby, and this butterfly who has been hiding in the house somewhere, probably behind the curtains, wants out!  The cotton wool she sits on has probably been spiked with a sugary content to give her strength.

Paul always worried over Lucy when she was loose and off lead.  She on the other hand would carry her lead determinedly and always be near.  Just as obstinate as he was.

The Bridestones on the North Yorkshire Moors.  One of the things about the stones that lie unheeded, a memorial to a once living community of prehistoric people is that you can never suss the reason they are there!

Me probably sewing badges in Matilda's bedroom, though she did not go in for badges like Lille and Tom.

The 99 steps of Whitby.  There were benches along the way up to St. Mary and Whitby Abbey.  There was an old donkey path also but it was good to look down on the red roofed houses.

The girls playroom.  You can tell by the pink!  At the back is a little hat shop bought in Bath and modelled slightly on Beckford Tower.

And something funny

Sunday 27th April 2025

 

A poem by Ted Hughes.  This is the ruined church he is talking about.  The newer 19th century church stands alongside the old in the same graveyard.  We visited on a grey and miserable day and the photos turned B/W of their own accord.  The old church was built in the 13th century and was named  Saint Thomas a Becket.  The west wall face of the tower fell down in 1847 because of a storm.

                                       Heptonstall Old Church

A great bird landed here.  Its song drew men out of rock,

Living men out of bog and heather.

Its song put a light in the valleys

And harness on the long moors.

Its song brought a crystal from space

And set it in men's heads.

Then the bird died.

It's giant bones 

Blackened and became a mystery.

The crystal in men's heads

Blackened and fell to pieces.

The valleys went out,

The moorland broke loose.

26th April 2025

 Franciscus:  The pope's funeral today.  The great and the good will be there and by special invitation, prisoners and refugees will attend the final ceremony.  A good man goes to his grave and the leaders and heads of state will witness this, speak the necessary words and then go back to the messy world we all live in.  One who will not be missed Netanyahu, head of Israel, and who cannot travel outside his country because of his arrest warrant from the ICC.  

Not having a religious bone in my body, I am still sad when the good go, the Catholic church, like our Protestant church balances itself on goodness.  That those employed in the work of God are also considered sinners is a sad fact of life.

So, what else?  An American friend said a nice thing this morning on F/B about the poems I find for my blog and I remembered it was how Paul and I got together.  He collected poems on The Modern Antiquarian on the stones and I would find them for him.  He also had his own site as well, which is on the right hand links bar - Megalithic Poems.  

I wrote the other day how people loved to write and one could add to that also put words together in poetry,  Language is a blessing, it describes our world in which we live but of course it describes the worlds in which people lived many centuries ago.

A favourite poetry book is by Ted Hughes with dark, mysterious photos by Fay Goodwin.  The book is called 'Remains of Elmet'.  Elmet was a small kingdom during the so called Dark Ages.  It was around when Bernicia and Deira, the small tribal kingdoms were around here in Yorkshire.  And then of course Elmet disappeared submerged into the greater kingdoms. Here is a paragraph of Hughes introduction to the Calder Valley.

The Calder Valley, west of Halifax, was the last ditch of Elmet, the last British Celtic kingdom to fall to the Angles.  For centuries it was considered a more or less uninhabitable wilderness, a notorious refuge for criminals, a hide-out for refugees.  Then in the early 1800s it became the cradle for the Industrial Revolution of textiles, and the Upper Valder became the 'hardest working river in England'.

Even this book has a little history of its own.  It was given as a present from someone from Ireland when he came over to visit Avebury.  He wrote poetry himself and he in turn had been inspired by Julian Cope, founder of The Modern Antiquarian and singer of course.

Lastly, Landscape Story has written of his week and the Pace Egg festival up at Heptonstall.  Now there are several blogs of this corner of the world, with Arctic Fox joining the company.

And lastly, lastly, there is this to read as well

25th April 2025

Where the beck crosses the lane at Wheeldale

A favourite place.  Over the moors past the old prehistoric stones that marked the lane from olden times as when  the snow was thick on the ground and only the stones would tell the road across.  I photographed those stones, and once found harebells growing by the side of one.  Such fragile, delicate flowers in the rough atmosphere of the moors.  If you were to walk along the Beck side you would eventually come upon Rowan trees.  The birds many years ago must have scattered the seeds and over time the trees had grown.  Rowan is a magical tree, given to protecting the house and the farming practices of milking and making butter and cream.  It protected you against the dead arising.  It also has been call 'quicken' translated as lively -  as the tree endowed with life.

Funny news this morning, A famous painting had been thrown away.  It was by Andy Warhol.  It was somewhere in Holland and belonged to a batch of 'Queen' paintings.  It does not particularly worry me, as there are other Warhol paintings out there and he has never been a favourite of mine.  And as for the prices quoted of these paintings I will say nowt.

We have just passed  JMW Turner's 250 year anniversary and I am quite happy to stick with the knowledge that he was a marvellous painter with no equal.  I once almost bought a print of a ravine by him.  It was in the 70s and the £50 was a mite too much for me but I always regret it.

It also reminded me of two prints I had left behind which were of George Morland.  Both prints of horses, he was called a pot boiler.  Which is a negative term that implies his work was inferior only produced for his daily bread.  It is funny in what you want to put on the walls of one's house.  Obviously if I was rich enough I would put Turner and Constable on my walls with perhaps a smattering of Morland in the guest bedroom!

George Morland.  Bucolic scene or a scene of sad poverty.

 

23rd April 2025

An Edith Pritchett cartoon for Private Eye

Well the soap box again.  I sign a lot of stuff as you can well imagine, no apologies there but this morning I was informed by email that 'Wild Justice' had raised the 100,000 signatures for their Ban to stop Driven  Grouse Shooting.  That means it goes before parliament for discussion

On the North Yorkshire moors there are grouse butts, in which our fine shooting gentleman and probably a few women stand behind whilst the poor hapless birds are driven towards them for killing.  And as an aside the moors are burnt of the old heather for that reason as well.

Killing birds is a pastime for some, a holiday experience for others.  A shocking figure, there are 50 million pheasants raised in this country.  You probably think they are indigenous, they are not but they are a pleasant sight in the countryside.  37 million of the birds survive but of course probably die quickly, they are an ecological imbalance.

There are times when out on a walk we used to find hidden in the woods an enclosure where the birds were reared before release for the annual kill.

Grouse stay close to my heart as occasionally you would spy them up on the moor and one experience never to be forgotten was a grouse with a little trail of baby grouse crossing the old lane off the moors at Wheeldale.  And of course Ted Hughes catches the mood beautifully  in his poem.

Grouse Butts

Where all the lines embrace and lie down,

Roofless hovels of turf, tapped by harebells,

Weather humbler.

In a world bare of men

They are soothing as ruins

Where the stones roam again free.

But inside each one, under sods, nests

Of spent cartridge cases

Are acrid with life.

Those dead looking fumaroles are forts.

Monkish cells, communal, strung out, solitary,

The front-line emplacements of a war nearly religious -

Dedicated to the worship

Of costly, beautiful guns.

A religion too arcane

For the grouse who grew up to trust their kingdom

And its practical landmarks.

Wild Life Petition

There is also an interesting blog on why Private Eye refused to use the cartoon a second and third time.