Sunday thoughts - a hypocrites view

The more clearly we can focus our attention on the wonders and realities of the universe about us, the less taste we shall have for the destruction of our race.  Rachel Carson.

A name to remember, her 'Silent Spring' is slowly unfolding across the Earth.  The other day when I took back some magazines to R and J, they asked me to explain what magazines I read.  Well there is 'Permaculture', 'Resurgence' and the 'Newstateman' I answered and gave a not very good answer as to how the word permaculture is used.  I sometimes think that I am ashamed of my reading, certainly socialist, very green and completely at odds with the people around me.  What for instance would you think of me as I decried the useless journeys by air to far away places so that we could just 'see' the scenic environment? Firstly you would justify the journey to me and yourself, and call it a lot of nonsense about 'Climate Emergency', the term  that the Guardian uses.

But your viewpoint is just a drop of water in a large lake, it has no significance, neither does mine.  But slowly out there in the wider world there is an awakening that nature is in itself a force to be reckoned with, may even have legal rights but how would that play out against the destructive forces such as large oil and mining companies to reduce it to a sink hole of commodities.  Certainly the likes of Donald Trump are exacerbating that.

So where am I going you may well ask.  Well I looked up at a tree that borders our property yesterday evening, it was beautiful in the setting sun, Autumn tones of leaf, bare skeleton of branches, a painting, not deliberate but beautiful in its composition.  The mind's eye snapping the moment.

And then this morning I read Robert Macfarlane's 'Should this tree have the same rights as you?' essay in the Review section of the Guardian.  It brings the thought closer, though we can see that litigation is a complicated affair and only lines the pockets of the lawyers.  There is a growing movement amongst novelists to see the land as something 'other' a living being, animistic.  Often expressed through states of belief in 'Gaia' or 'Mother Earth'.  The Goddess Earth,* sometimes seen in glimpses from past beliefs, in the shape of mountains and lakes.  All that wonderful folklore endowing the Earth with  significant forces of good and evil.  Something we are finding now of course is the destructive elements of the earth, fire and water.  We are  experiencing for instance the melting of glaciers, (they even blessed one in Switzerland, it had died when it melted.)

Western world is not too worried, their lands are not being drowned by rising seas at the moment, though fires rage in different parts of the world with a ferocity that is still to be understood.  The human 'self' reigns supreme, though probably sadly to be overtaken by AI and the robot in future time, wonder where that will take us.  As I type they are gustily singing hymns on the radio.  Habits of a lifetime are not easily broken, though the Church fears for its presence in today's society.

So to leave with words that come from someone who experiences the vitality of life that throbs on our Earth, - The Spell of the Sensuous',  David Abrams.  Find him out in quotes, worth much more than a thousand photos. In this instance in another book...

 “Such reciprocity is the very structure of perception. We experience the sensuous world only by rendering ourselves vulnerable to that world. Sensory perception is this ongoing interweavement: the terrain enters into us only to the extent that we allow ourselves to be taken up within that terrain.”
― David Abram, Becoming Animal: An Earthly Cosmology

*
And have you ever met The Cailleach?

Clogs

Listening to John Gray's lovely Welsh choir in his village and the enthusiasm expressed in it, I bumped into this 1959 video about Welsh clog dancing and  the making of  clogs.  Though they never get the excitement of the Irish 'River Dance', the clog after all is clumsy, they try so hard and do it so well.  There is something very beguiling about the film. But the the clog dancing comes towards the end of the 15 minutes so scroll forward.

I have always loved Wales since childhood.  It was our holiday spot from the 'Black Country' or the Midlands, the dark areas of Wolverhampton, Willenhall, Wednesbury and Walsall.  Driving out over the weekend, my grandfather would stop by the side of the road and cook breakfast.  Then we would arrive at the farm where he went shooting and fishing.  Down to the river for trout and eels and salmon, though I am not quite sure he got salmon from here.  And a terrible dark secret here, they threw dynamite in the river for their catch, how can I forgive him?  My brother and I would be left occasionally in the holidays at the farm, and we would go down to the river with the friendly farm pig, and lie on our stomachs and tickle trout.

Saturday 2nd November

I remembered these stories this morning whilst listening to Northumbrian tales for Halloween on the radio.  Binnorie is a sad tale of two sisters and jealousy.  Every night and early morning the owl's call can be heard.  There must be quite a few around here.  Occasionally I pick up their barred feathers in the garden but only see the barn owl flying over in the day at Bridge farm.

beech sapling

hawthorn berries or hawes

the wild cherries that flourish on the verge

Leaves slowly colouring

Willows along the river

the river at its usual level

the holly with plenty of berries, only hope they will last till Christmas for the church

Thinking it out

Precept; If you have a parish or town council in your area your council tax bill may include a contribution to them which is known as a 'precept'. ... This is the total amount to be raised through the council tax from all the dwellings within the parish area.

Tithe;  Tithing is currently defined by the church as payment to the church of one-tenth of one's annual income. ... The money that is given is used to build and maintain church buildings as well as to further the work of the church.

I could almost start by saying that there are 'areas of resentment' when it comes to bringing up taxing the community.  What do you do when most of the population is secular, does not attend their local church and bristles when talk of paying tax for the general good of the community.  Tread very lightly.

Yesterday I visited someone who lives a few houses down, and is in charge of voluntary looking after the fabric of our church building and belongs on the parish church council.  He is not religious but is cross that so few of the villagers attend church or the events the church puts on.  Our vicar by the way has nine churches to look after, and as we have no church warden it could well be that our church closes down.

Tithing of course is a medieval concept before the arrival of money, you paid it to the lord of the manor and the priest in the way of crops, animals or labour. This was how the peasants were kept in servitude.  Many would argue that the Protestant church has enough money to pay its own way and the salaries of their bishops and vicars.

The precept on the other hand is slapped on your Council tax bill at the end, here in our village we pay about £18 extra a year.  This amount is decided at the annual village parish meeting and will go on everybody's tax bill. It can be used for the upkeep of the village.

Like many in the village I love our church, but do I want to be blackmailed by the Church for paying for its upkeep?  The role of people living in a village has changed somewhat.  They become the homes of retirees, who have moved from other areas, and though we have a few locals the rest are 'incomers'.

People also fall out over small territorial disputes, such as moving a hedge boundary, or dogs fouling their particular bit of grass verging, it is all very petty.  But aggrieved manners do not help when discussing problems.

My visit though produced  three delightful dogs, and R showed me where the cat had brought her kittens out into the world atop the willow tree.

Happy Halloween

Grin and bear it, nothing lasts forever!  Pumpkins to eat are tasteless and have too much water in them, whereas politicians are full of air.

Monday 29th October

A video from long ago when the world was a simpler place and you could dance in the kitchen without the interminable news.  There was a childish note to some of the songs, think about Hello lamp post come to watch your flowers growing...

You Can Call me Al..............................................

I suspect some lyrics came from the drugs taken at the time, my daughter brought me up to date about drugs in Hebden Bridge, home to well off hippies.  She is one of the people that thinks drugs should be legalised, but keeps a sharp eye on my grand children, who move around in the party atmosphere of teenage children.

Matilda is the strong one, already made her presence felt for voting, she will be 18 years old on the 10th giving her time to vote for the 12th December should an election be called for. If I was a Tory I would be worried by the young vote and would not let them anywhere near a second referendum, it would be reversed!

Well one road has been opened out of the village, but the pack horse  Newsham bridge is to be closed for a month, meaning driving to Malton and the train station will have to be taken round Pickering.

Newsham Bridge, Amotherby

Such bridges are part of the magic of Yorkshire, but with the larger vehicles that  are now on the road, they strain under the weight.  Luckily we will keep these historic bridges because there is no money to replace them.  I met a  very large cattle truck coming over our bridge yesterday, and behind a large modern tractor, which tear up the tarmac surfaces of the back lanes.  Big is definitely not beautiful in the countryside round here.

Sunday and water

Yesterday my daughter and granddaughter came down for the weekend unexpectedly, and as we had two signs up by the bridge, stating road closed both ways, I was not sure how to pick them up from Malton Station.  I devised a way through the village of Salton, through Butterwick to Barton-Le-Street.  Of course the real problem was that it was raining since the night before, so as I set off down narrow lanes full of water with small rivers gushing under bridges, I became slightly worried.  Bedraggled pheasants sat in the rain and there was a couple of large raptors on the hedges.  Light coloured I could not make out what they were but thrilling all the same.  Not one car did I meet on that 10 mile journey, past farms with water gushing down their drives and I was relieved to eventually get onto the main road and leave behind great ponds of water that had accumulated in the small lanes.

Train was late of course, stuck in York, but after some shopping at Asda we returned home via a main road through Pickering and Kirkby Misperton.  As the afternoon went on, so did the rain, a great pool of water collected outside our house stretching past the Sun Inn, and there was great swooshes as people drove through the water.  I checked on the river level, 20 feet from our back garden and it had gone from a gentle meander trickling of about 18 inches, to three metres and was just topping the bank, luckily it went down pretty quickly.  The water runs off Rosedale Moor.

Stand well back, for some cars rushed through

the wake of a car making miniature waves

Lillie excited by flooding

My daughter who lives in the West Yorkshire town of Todmorden, is used to flooding in their basement.  The Caldervale valley she lives in is steep sided, the roads are narrow and water both from the river and canal rush through.  A few years back, the government gave money for pumps to be installed in the houses, some did, others used the money elsewhere.  Karen's pump works well, it is just not wise to keep stuff down there though.

As I have made a note of the villages, it is interesting how each village has acquired its name.  Barton-le-street, also Appleton-le-street are on the old Roman road from Malton, which used to be a garrison Roman town.  Barton refers to barley growing, whereas Appleton is pretty self explanatory.  Note the  Norman le as well.  Was Butterwick the place where butter making took place, low lying pasture land for dairy cows.  Ton and Wic refer to small hamlets.

What came out of yesterday's journey was the need to explore more, before all those rich buggers from up South, buy land for profit and turn England into a vast industrialised farming land.

Samhain

Well it draws near, the festival underlining the seasons of the year and the end of the Celtic Year.  We change clocks in a mechanical manner, not that it disrupts time but to help with visibility in the morning.  If you are superstitious you leave food and drink outside for those who have left for the other world, or lay a place at the table for them. And in my book you do not trivialise the festival with sweeties for children, yes I know that is mean but the stories that fall through the ages are so much more interesting!  The Hounds of Annwn will ride the sky on the night of the 31st October hunting down those they wish to kill.  And if you read the myth, for this is a Welsh Celtic tale, it is not really about killing but about plenty, as this is the time of year when the cattle are brought down from the highland pastures and either wintered or slaughtered, and then a great feast begins.  Christianity took this pagan festival and turned the hunt into the wicked Satan killing folk.  But apparently the myth arose from the sounds of the geese returning at this time of the year, for they sounded like the pack of dogs Annwn took with him on his hunt.

It is wise to remember that pagan Samhain has been altered by the Christian church into All Saints and All Souls, again a feast day.  But from which so many stories have come.  Remember not to open your door on the night though there may be someone knocking who would not be welcome, your visitor could be scary.

So as the harvest comes in and the apples and pumpkins appear on the side of the roads, rejoice that the food is there, thank whatever god is there for you and imbibe.  Our apples on all our village trees have been harvested and turned into apple juice at Kirkbymooride, a large undertaking for there are plenty of apples here.  Many years ago I bought an apple press and pressed the apples in our Bath garden.  The liquid would flow sometimes amber, sometimes gold but sweet and tasty. It is something I miss.
So a Happy Samhain to you all, may the year as it closes in another festival be peaceful for you. 

Thursday 25th October and wedding venues

Yesterday was a true misty Autumn day and I had to find a route through the back lanes to get to Kirkbymoorside as they had closed our road from the village of Marton, today they are closing the opposite direction. 

I drove past Riseborough Hall, with its grand iron gates and high wall and read the history of it from our village historian's website.  It would cost you a pretty penny to buy, over the two million mark to own this bit of history. The fact of the matter is that the word 'rise' describes it accurately, for you go uphill till the house tops the hill.
Last night was the Parish meeting in the church, dear Jo held my hand in case it got difficult without Paul.  The male Joe handled the meeting superlatively, he needed something to get his teeth into after early retirement.
We did the usual round of speeding traffic but no sign of the police stopping people yet.  The footpath which the council won't let us build, you need proper contractors, which shoots the price up to somewhere around £10,000.  Then the defibrillator, nearly every village round here has one but they are not cheap and need volunteers to be on hand.
Then the interesting bit, (40 odd people made it a good turn out) the proposed wedding venue at the farm over the bridge, and also by the way situated on a terrible zig-zag bend.  The farmer and his wife, who did most of the talking had a fairly easy time, though C had come well armed with facts and figures.
The first thing to note is the farmer's 'plight'.  There are poor upland farms raising sheep on scrub land but there are also very rich farmers taking advantage of everything on offer, whether from the EU or government.  These farmers live on land that is exorbitant to buy and do well.  
The farm had been brought by someone who lived down the road at Great Edstone, she had run holiday cottages from the farm there, now with four sons and a daughter, at other farms, they had decided the derelict buildings at this farm should be turned into various things, such as two cottages, bedrooms and the various barns transformed into places for entertainment for weddings.
Well big ideas but will it work, I suspect we are in for a downturn so any speculation needs a brave heart.
C who lives on the other side of the bridge, fears the noise but had reassurances that no fireworks or those dreadful lanterns would be let off.  C did point out something rather important about our village was the silence, except for a few cars and the worry we would all be about drunken revelry at night.  Also the sewerage problem was underlined, what would they do? well apparently tank it and then removed from site.  As anyone knows getting planning to alter housing in this country takes time and patience and I feel the whole plan could get stumped by the farm's awkward access to the road.
Which brings to this thought, capital (as in money) is now seen as being wrapped up in owning a house or two and this will keep you in old age. But what if we experience a  collapse in the economy? On the other side of this farm and river Nelson lives in his caravan with his little tableau of animals, further along there are statics, which are variously inhabited during the year, the two sides of our economy split living side by side.  Millions spent on upgrading farm buildings and yet poorish people cannot afford a roof over their head.

Futility

With the world sinking into its own mire, the saddest things was the 39 victims frozen to death in a truck yesterday.  I have been moved by the sombre and yet humanitarian views expressed by some.  The knowledge that we live amongst peace and plenty, and yet all over the world refugees struggle to survive, should surely bring us a warning that complacency is not to be encouraged.  These people of whatever nationality died because they were escaping war, hunger, economic displacement and cruel governments.  Not a term I use often but may they rest in peace.  Paul always wore this CND peace sign on his coat, he had marched in the demonstrations, and even been put in prison for being part of the march...

Today my email box had news of archaeology, some of which I can't pass on. 

So what was there? firstly the tympana of St.Margaret and St.James in Cumbria.  There be dragons? the story is I believe, that during the Roman invasion their flags had  the griffon displayed, and this got interpreted later as dragons.  The tympanums, for there were two are Saxon....They look very dinosauris! (Thanks to Ironpolis for drawing my attention to them)

The next thing I saw was a new fact about King Arthur's Hall in Cornwall, a fact culled from an old book.  One of the mysteries of KAH is its 'squareness' not fitting anything particularly Bronze Age, but so reminiscence with its large stones of prehistory.  Happy holidays, with Paul's cousin, Sue and Geoff, and Roy our indefatigable guide.

Bodmin Moor with its granite tors is full of mystery.

And lastly, but not least, one of the great finds of the 20th century the Nebra Sky Disc, to be taken to London in 202l.  This prehistoric calendar of the Bronze Age is beautiful and apparently functional as well.

Deceivers

The Amethyst Deceiver such a pretty mushroom, its name implies something different but yes you can eat it.  Fungi is at its best in Autumn, I remember going on a fungi walk with an expert, must admit I have never picked or eaten wild mushrooms.

Susan Harley in Food in England has written this about them...

Common field mushroom (Psalliota campestris) is dainty pick and white when young turning brown, then almost black, as it grows old.. You will find them in pastures, normally where cattle graze. They may be anything from 4 to 24 inches across!

Horse mushroom (Psalliota Arvenis) is a clumsy version of the field mushroom. The top is thicker and the stem lumpy, and the colour of the gills less pink. The smell is that of field mushroom. Note if a horse mushroom stains yellow when cut or bruised(not a faint tinge but a definite bright yellow -as if dabbed with mustard or egg yolk -discard it as it may be be Psalliota xanthoderma which, though not deadly, has been known to cause illness
It is the solitary dead white fungus that should be disregarded with suspicion. It is the death Cap (Amanita phalloides) which is most dangerous.

Fairy Ring (Marasmius oreades), are best for drying, they are not always true to their habit of growing in rings, especially where lea has been broken. But the delicate 'fairy ring mushroom' is unmistakable. They are seldom more than 2 inches across, and carried comparitvely high on slender stems. The gills are deep and very regular, one long one short, like the minute marks around a clock. The top is buff, and the gills are very much paler, the slender stems are stringy and tough so cut them off.

The puff-balls (Lycoperdon); The really giant one (lycoperdon giganteum) can be as big as a football, both large and small puffballs taste exactly the same. Their texture - solid white, like smooth, white cream cheese, and the outer covering is fine as white kid. .....

Cooking; Smallest puff balls, walnut size, are best dipped in batter and fried like rissoles. Drain and serve as a pebble beach around a pool of green spinach. Medium sized, are rolled in flour, pepper and salt, then drop into an earthen ware pan with barely enough milk to cover, and simmer to cook. Thicken sauce after cooking, pour back over the puff-balls and garnish with scarlet barberries and green parsley.
Giant puff-balls are sliced, and dipped in egg and milk and then fine dry breadcrumbs. Fried in hot bacon-fat, drain on kitchen paper, pepper and salt and serve piping hot, sprinkled with cider or vinegar..

And a mushroom drying tree

I watched 'Cranford' yesterday on tv, slightly syrupy comic set around the 1840s, (written by Elizabeth Gaskell) village life in all its glory of females eking out a life in a small village environment.  Somehow drying mushrooms in front of the fire reminded me of Cranford, with the threat of a new railway line coming through, and then of course with all our unpredictable events happening.

Sunday thoughts

It is no use lambasting the Remainers last ditch fight, it will precisely do nothing.  We are where we are, Johnson is not dead in the ditch, he has to go on, childishly not signing letters to show his disapproval.  Our country has a rift down its centre, half of us want to remain in the European clique, the other half to leave and go it alone - impasse plain and simple.

It is Sunday, a day of rest but the arguments will go on, where is Solomon when you need him?  My mood vacillates between the two, for I have no inkling what the future might hold, only that I want it to be a sensible answer.

Tom Stephenson has pointed to the 'old white men' that rule, and it brought to mind the photo making the rounds at the moment, Trump and Pelosi, just look at that table of men, luckily our parliament has its fair share of representative women.

It has been a weird weekend so far, having decided that there was no oil in the tank until tomorrow when he comes, I switched the heating off, the house is very cold.  But not to be dismayed by it, decided to have a fire, so went out bought some non-smoking coal and with the rest of the logs in the garage have had a log fire in the sitting room.  My fire skills have been updated and the wood burner behaves nicely.  
Whilst awake in the night I listen to the radio and this time a green programme, and there was this person who had managed to reduce her plastic waste by 99%.  I applaud her determination, and tried to work out how I would do it.  Did she give up on milk, cheese, (I would have to go to Helmsley for unwrapped expensive cheese).  Though I could buy quite a lot of stuff unwrapped in my town in the way of vegetables and fruit, there was still a lot that comes in plastic, my Fair Trade coffee beans for instance. 
There is the bug, if I stopped coffee beans what would those growers do? We are harangued on all sides by green arguments, but each step we take is only part of the problem.

Friday and memories

I am waiting for the 'boiler' man, but have a feeling he is not going to turn up for his annual appointment.  The garden is wet, soaking wet from the drizzle that happens overnight.  Yesterday was sunny and I took Lucy over the fields to see the state of the crab apple tree.  I love the colour of crab apple jelly, a golden brown, clear and translucent.  But they were still green on the tree, and I normally pick them up from the ground when they are yellow, so a few more weeks yet.

Last years.

The heating is turned off, because I think I am running out of oil, ordered it yesterday but it is to come next Monday, although the oil tanker called in whilst I was out, but the tank was locked.

This morning had a lovely email from one of Paul's old friends who lives in Hawaii, he wrote beautifully, but then he is an editor of a magazine for the Hawaii plane magazine, alongside his work of selling Sake wine.  He said that if I had a memorial service sometime next year he would bring over Paul's favourite bottle of Sake 'A Mansion of dreams'.  He talks of memories and how they can be happy after that initial period of absolute grief.

Here are the two posing outside Rievaulx Abbey on a cold day, you can just see Rievaulx Terrace up above the abbey.

Chris and Paul

Last year Paul had gone up to London to see his grandson Leo, and Chris had a Sake tasting at the Barbican Centre, he sells quite a lot of Sake wine in London.

It reminds me of another memory, sharp and distinct in the Chelmsford garden, when Paul would make a ceremony of drinking the warmed wine out in the garden when the Japanese cherry trees came into bloom in spring. Part of the tradition was to fill each other's glass up from the little Japanese jugs into tiny cups.

Autumn Artists - turn of the 20th century

Anne Althea Hills - American artist.

Chosen for those brilliant Autumn leaves, capturing their radiance.

Olgar Wisinger Florian - Austrian painter

Chosen for the feather lightness of goats beard and the browns we see so often in the garden and countryside.  And last but not least, an English female artist...

Catherine M Wood - English artist

These three have captured Autumn, in all its moody soft colours.  Yesterday I battled the great long branches of my cultivated blackberries, hacking away at briared branches that were almost as thick as my wrist. J popped her head over the fence, and said you should have planted one without thorns.  I reminded her that she had already told me that before, but in a gentle manner of course.

We had a small meeting last night about the quiz night and it is already arranged for sometime in November.  Joe said what about a summer trip to York races, not my cup of tea but we will see if it has legs, rather like the horses.  It is good to see Irene and Joe taking over the running of the village, whether or not we will stimulate life into the people who reside here is another matter, but I expect Paul will be pleased wherever he is.

Pomp and Ceremony - did it work?

The Queen;  She is getting old but still holds us together.  I am hardly a royalist but do respect her presence on the British stage.  She reminds me that doing one's duty whatever it may be is the only way forward.  All those years ago she was given a job and she is doing fine. Prince Charles, king in waiting, I also have respect for him, his heart is also in the right place and he writes very well. 

Gossip about the royal family, slinks around in the news like  volcano lava crawling slowly forward - black and evil.

Alright the privilege of being very rich is hardly likely to garner my approval, such things are, but I can do little to change them. 

Some things I did not like at the Queen's Speech was the smirk on Boris's face, though I am ever hopeful he will not be the prime minster for long. The showmanship of this royal function was of course to steer us, the public off track - a cynical manoeuvre, but noted in the political kerfuffle we are living through at the moment.  Always like to be treated as stupid by my superiors - smile.

John Crace of the Guardian of course goes one further - Queen reduced to furious front woman for grubby election stunt.  Which perhaps captures the moment.  Corbyn walking with Johnson, who was trying to make conversation with him, just ignored him, sweet.

Johnson (and Cummings) have probably made one fatal mistake  bringing the Crown into their machinations, they have devalued it in the eyes of many, there is only so many times you can call for a State occasion to drum up your own poor performance.  I am sure the Queen would have been much happier talking to the latest drum horse on her payroll.

So well done Her Majesty, you did not look very happy reading out the political manifesto and for us it was just another batch of words that meant nothing!

Monday 14th October

Hevrin Khalaf - executed by Turkish backed mercenary factions

You have to agree she has a kind face and is a loss in a political battle that depended on a foolish decision made by an idiot.  She will not be the only one losing her life in the terrible tragedy that is Syria.  These wars are fought for many reasons, many of them unsavoury, we for instance make the weapons used in such wars but then have to bare witness to our politicians mouthing platitudes as to how war is terrible.  

Will Erdogan fulfill his promise of three and a half million refugees let loose on Europe and the damaging consequences that would bring, a game of chess my friends, a game of chess.  The world is in chaos and one wonders what the undermining forces are and where are we heading

Here today the moon sulked behind the mist rather beautifully, more rain this week, though apparently we have had our supposed share of rain for October already.

I am enjoying Yanis Varoufakis's book about the fall of Greece into bankruptcy.  The game of bingo that is played with stocks and shares is enlightening, and I never knew the banks, and that includes world banks, are so corrupt.  He mingles his extraordinary economic  knowledge with stories of myth.  It brings home the truth that politicians, bankers and the rest of the so-called powers hang on with their finger nails to the cliff of self preservation.  A common human foible!

I am sad at the loss of life in these eternal wars, at the loss of country, home, and livelihood for so many people, our problems look so tiny in comparison....

Sunday cartoon

I occasionally speak to my Google creature in the sitting room, but she is not very bright, and normally ends up playing Classic FM for me.  The above raised a smile on this dark Sunday morning.

Village matters

Took Lucy up the road today to inspect the water burst that had taken place yesterday.  A lot of water had gathered outside our front gate, water bubbling up from the drains.  I think it is mended now there was an enormous hole half filled with water by the notice board.

Yesterday I was out for much of the day, a trip to collect the ashes of Paul, and a tearful drive home but in a way happy that I was bringing him home.  Then in the afternoon a trip to our monthly garden meeting with friends from the village.  The talk was all about the Camassia plant grown by this lady  She had had to grow 2000 plants for Chris Beardshaw's garden at the Chelsea Flower Show and we had a very long tale about the tribulations she went through to get these flowers to break bud after a long and snowy winter.   They come in shades of blue and there is also a creamy-white plant as well, early summer and probably more suited for the wildflower garden.

I also fed the little white feral cat yesterday, and talking to J who has the cat's four kittens in her barn we discussed how to go about doing something about them.  The mother cat needs spaying, and so will the four little ones.  Apparently we have a Cats Protection League thingy in Amotherby, but of course you have to catch the creatures first and then pay for them to be scuppered.  C said how about the money we collect from the village events, not sure that will go down very well.  

We are already beginning to discuss the quiz night, it went well last year with 35 people attending, so perhaps it should happen again. There is also a parish meeting in the church at the end of the month, but it will be freezing cold this time of the year!

Another thing under discussion, apart from the defibrillator, is the fact that the big old farmhouse with lots of broken down buildings, but rather attractive if you like that sort of thing, is turning itself into a wedding venue place, and has put out planning permission details with the council.  I can't see any problem, but it seems a large amount of money is being spent on a rather precarious affair.  Also the farm sits on a completely zig-zag bend part of the road around the river, cars coming in and out will have problems.

Like him or loathe him?

Taking on the news. Someone on one of the blogs said, now that I am old I shall wear dresses and hats and not give a damn.  Well a well expressed sentiment, we should reveal how we feel. Jonathon Pie is foul mouthed, does he believe in what he says in his 'fake news' videos.  This I know, he gets to the truth in a way I find difficult.  But he shakes the core of that old term 'class' and in a funny, amusing way expresses a truth.

Do I follow his reasoning, now that is a difficult question, should we be guilty? Well as a convent taught Catholic, guilt has followed me through life, should I be guilty for the chaos I see around?  The answer must be no, we have arrived at an unfortunate time in history, our human destructive actions are where we are at now, we have to redress the balance for future generations.

So when some foul-mouthed comedian comes along and upsets my sensibilities, I take note that the younger more vibrant people around maybe thinking the same as he is expressing.

And of course you don't have to watch the video at all - big smile there!

Eight Fellows of the British Academy Respond to Climate activism tactics

Tuesday 8th October

Life is sitting with the mobile phone for hours discussing facts, reeling out numbers.  Is technology so good, when it removes us from actual people on the other end of the phone and has us typing in numbers ad-infinitum.  News on this morning stated that Macmillian in the 1960s had his driver carry four pennies to be able for him to react to any threat of a Nuclear attack from Russia  to use in the nearest phonebox!  Also the AA radio system was upgraded as a warning system.

Those of a certain age will remember the Automobile Association, still going strong today,  how they swept past in their motorbikes saluting drivers if they wore an AA badge on their front bumper, we as children always saluted back. 

But to a photo that came from someone the other day, it shows the family at Paper Mill Lock. We were all younger and happier. this popular part of the Chelmsford river had a tea place to which people flocked.  But if you were to walk a couple of miles along the river bank, you soon lost the crowds and the Essex countryside opened out in all its beauty.

Brilliant

It is doing the rounds, Richard Suart has caught the tone perfectly.

Sunday - 6th October

There is something satisfying the way one season blends into the next, as if nature refuses to listen to the ridiculous twitterings of the human race and that which is alive in nature says to itself in my rational logical world, I shall continue my perambulations round the sun.  Sunrises and sunsets shall be ravishing in their beauty, catching the breath  And, as today, people on the radio  talking about the humble ladybird that lives in Britain, 47 species I think, nature does not give a s--- about how many creatures live or die, but goes on designing the flora and fauna with artistic flair.

We are surrounded by different shapes and forms, yesterday walking  Lucy I looked up at the ash trees and noted that they are free of the disease that is sweeping the country - Ash die-back, and I was happy remembering the tale of Odin as he hung from the ash, the great Yggdrasil tree, that stories are one of the legacies of the human race.

We have written our stories on rocks, wood, hides, culminating in paper and now I write on a computer that requires no trees to be cut down for my vague thoughts.

So I shall copy onto my computer somewhere an article I found in one of Paul's file, it was in praise of his work, and though Paul said he would write his memoirs, he never did.  It was written by someone called Geoffrey Murray, a journalist who lived and worked in Asia. Though the tears are never very far away, I take comfort in Paul's presence around this house.

Welcome Home

The holly tree has plenty of ripening berries lets hope the birds leave enough for the church decorations

Who do I talk of? Well I was never quite sure where the robins, blackbirds and thrushes went to but apparently they have been in Scandinavia.  They now fly over our East coast in droves making it back to our winter harvest of wild and cultivated berries.  Of course that will include  the thrushes - song, mistle, redwings and fieldfares.

All this I read courtesy of our local booklet in a little article by Jonathan Pomroy, a local artist who lives at Ampleforth.  He  is to have a showing at the Saltbox Gallery in Helmsley.  It is always pleasing to be introduced to something new and I am glad these birds are making an appearance when another 'State of Nature Report in 2019 written by the National Trust reports on the significant loss of flora and fauna.  I know in this area many, many hedgehogs have been saved by a group of volunteers, who nurse and return these little hoglets back to their gardens and fields.

I am reading Yanis Varoufakis - Talking to my daughter about the Economy - A brief History of Capitalism.  It unfolds simply in its narrative of how the market forces we see today moved through history, all I need it to tell me now is why there are so many greedy people around at the moment.  I shall then move onto his book for adults - Adults in the Room - My Battle with Europe's deep Establishment.

Why am I reading these books, could it be that we shall go the same way as Greece?  There was a funny old BFI film this morning about the Scottish Isles.  It started with the reporter in a telephone box querying the price of gold and platinum.  He then is seen in an old croft with two ladies knitting those fine shawls that you can pass through a wedding ring when finished.  These shawls he pointed out were more expensive than either gold or platinum ounce for ounce.  It made me laugh rather hollowly as we now print money willy-nilly, it is so easy;)