Wolf Moon tonight

https://www.bbc.co.uk/newsround/51047406

For reference this is an American interpretation of names I believe.

Friday 10th January

The English Oak - Quercus Alba borrowed from Shutterstock

"There are tens of billions of known kinds of organic molecules. Yet only fifty of them are used for the essential activities of life. The same patterns are employed over and over again, conservatively, ingeniously for different functions. And at the very heart of life on Earth - the proteins that control cell chemistry, and the nucleic acids that that carry the hereditary instructions - we find these molecules to be essentially identical in all the plants and animals. An oak tree and I are made of the same stuff. If you go far enough back, we have a common ancestor." - Carl Sagan, Cosmos

But...........humans have way too much emotional output into life, and my crusading spirit was rather broken last night as the barriers came down on talking to each other.

The goats have been eaten said I, but those self same goats had escaped into neighbouring gardens and BUTTED the patio doors, never to be forgiven, must be a Yorkshire trait says the chuckle in my mind. 

It seems that when you start to dislike someone/family, every little grievance mounts up and gets stored, people become close-minded never WANTING to see another way of life. 

But things were arrived at in general good humour.  Jo does not like barbecues, why, simply because the food is served too early, so we agree on half an hour later. There is also a treasure hunt to be made in the summer, everyone ending up in the pub of course.

Boundaries are discussed, who owns the fencing and hedging on their side, David and Jill have just had someone to cut the large pine trees, but the farmer says it is only to... was it the Sycamore tree? Those wicked holidaymakers over New Year in the holiday home, lit fireworks in the front garden, not good for Charlie, 20 year old pony and the blind sheep.  This is village history in the making, it has probably always been like this, the small minutiae of life, since the village began.

Walking back from the pub, keen eyed Jill spots my newly planted primroses, weren't there at lunchtime says she, I had planted them in the afternoon.  Her husband offers to cut the hawthorns on this side of the fence, always kind, but I say will do it myself, except all Paul's saws are wibbly-wobbly Japanese ones and I need to buy a decent pruning one.

So what has been happening in the rest of the world?  Caught on the news this morning that just under a million people are sleeping outside in case of after shocks of the Puerto Rico earthquake there. The plane that crashed was almost certainly brought down by Iranian missiles .. Actions do definitely have Consequences Mr Trump and Iran - the innocent loss of life which all war brings on its tail.  Then of course to beat all the serious news, there is a rupture in the Royal family, well it keeps us entertained does it not.

Thursday 9th January

Dear Diary. quite like that opening.  In a separate blog I am typing out my thoughts on the younger me.  It is extraordinary how you arrive at the later point of life, with all the things that have happened to you over the years, I realise I must have enjoyed my life, the miserable times were hard but I arrived in one piece.  Today is my birthday and I need to reflect for Paul's absence on this day is so sad.

Opened my presents from my daughter, Middlemarch by George Elliott which I had asked for, a good long read on the fallibility of its characters, and a long grey cardigan which is lovely which I shall wear tonight at the social meeting at the pub.

Yesterday I talked to Nigel over the road, he has been in the village for years but told me he does not know anyone to speak to on my side of the road.  Why not? is it the f****** class system that stands in the way, or is it a suburban mindset, that crafts a neat home and garden and looks down on self-sufficient people.

Also took C and J to the gardening club meeting in the afternoon, which was about, wait for it, 'Tulips from Amsterdam'. I Do Not Like flowers grown in straight lines but the Dutch obviously do!

The question of getting people, a) to get together, and b) talking has been on my mind for quite a while.  C did not know that Nigel's wife was ill though she has lived in the village for 30 years, but J did talk to Nigel, for instance when he wanted to buy hay for his sheep.

The meeting tonight is to discuss  social get togethers through the year, the next one is the Carvery at the end of this month.  Someone from the village came up to me at the meeting (I am taking on Paul's role in this it seems) to ask could not the church/parish meeting/social all come together.  Church attendance down to three, the vicar with 9 churches to look after.  But....... should the money we raise from social events go towards the church funds?

Thoughts bounce through my mind....

Just read the story of when Flush (Elizabeth Barrett's spaniel) was dognapped, it all ended happily of course.... Virginia Woolf wrote a book about Flush.

"Flush lived happily with the Brownings until he passed away peacefully in Florence on June 16, 1854 at age thirteen. Pen, then five years old, found him the morning he died, and the family cried together. “It has been quite a shock to me & a sadness,” Elizabeth wrote to Arabel. “My head aches so I can scarcely see,” she told a friend. When her son had stopped weeping, he assured his mother that in a year, Flush would be reborn. “He never doubts the prolonged existence of the dog-soul,” wrote Elizabeth to Robert’s sister, adding wistfully, “And he may be right.”

Wednesday 8th January - Quorn

Quorn;  One of those things vegetarians eat.  But be careful........... it can make you ill.  Twice over the Xmas period I have felt very sick after eating Quorn sausages, the second time confirmed that they were not for me. This was the first time I had eaten Quorn.

Mycoprotein, the novel ingredient in Quorn-brand frozen meat substitutes that’s made from processed mold (Fusarium venenatum), can cause serious and (possibly, even fatal) allergic and other reactions.

Many years ago, one of our extended family had done the PR on marketing this stuff.  It involved walking round the factory, he came back and said, never, ever eat that stuff, you should see how they make it!  So I never did till this Christmas when I popped a bag of cocktail sausages into the basket.

Though the manufacturer’s  advertising and labeling implies that the product is “mushroom protein” or “mushroom in origin,” the mold (or fungus) from which it is made does not produce mushrooms. Rather, the mold is grown in liquid solution in large tanks.

Normally my diet is based on vegetables, fruit, cheese, eggs and bread, plus nuts and seeds which I eat as snacks.  My stomach is not obviously geared to artificial foods, goodness knows when they grow meat in the laboratory what will happen.

Whoops. Artificial food is beginning to get a grip.  See George Monbiot

Tuesday 7th January

The naming of roses

The world goes on, terrible bush fires in Australia, the assassination of a leader, we cannot do much but listen to the news.  Yet those who live in Australia are already thinking of how to help the animals out there.  One of my blogs has already given out this message....Sewers Who Can Sew Straight.....................

https://down---to---earth.blogspot.com/

The photo above comes from my large box file of film photos which I was sorting today.  It is my birthday this week, I shall be 75, still basically healthy and in control of my senses - hopefully!  What I was doing was sorting out photos of myself through the ages.  As an aside we all know the 'Seven Ages of Man' but is there a complimentary female one?  I ended up with a lot of cute photos of a young Tom as well.

It gave me  a glimpse into my life, two marriages, two children and lots of wandering around by myself in the countryside, always with a dog at heel, never my family, who have always disliked country walks.  Eventually I will scan them on the printer, which somehow seems reluctant to do this.

The first turns up...A trip to Ireland with a friend called Barbara, we must have been about 18 years old.  I had an old mini van, and we toured Southern Ireland for a week. It was beautiful, remember two boys, no shoes, homemade trousers aggressively bullying me for money for taking photographs of their donkey.  What would I have done today? Or more importantly what would I have done then?

The thought came from this video I watched from somewhere, of  bustling London Streets I think made in 1967, and I remembered those short skirts in which to bend down was extremely difficult, also the thought weren't we all slim in those days.... Enjoy, because once a long time ago grand daughters your granny was young.  ;)

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2020/jan/04/australias-pathetic-pm-reveals-much-about-the-rights-efforts-to-deny-reality

Sunday 5th January

Reliquiae;  It dropped through the letterbox yesterday afternoon, beautifully wrapped reminding me of Paul's absolute neatness.  Acquired by a long stint in a Japanese studio, tools arranged to perfection.

I have read the book lightly, needing to go back and explore the words, for this book etymology is at its heart.  They are explored, used singularly, in poetry but not as you know it and even in language, where after each small article Tsimshian words are given their meaning. 

By Paasikivi - Own work, 

There is a long article on the word 'borage' that beautiful blue star shaped wild flower that catches the eye, we go through the latin to explore how the word was arrived at in borago officinalis it is because the flower was an official herbal medicine in the gardens of the monastery.   Borra meaning wool or hair, see how this is true of the stems.  Marvel at how the colour changes, you will see it  also in pulmonaria, or the lungwort as we call it, also a medicinal herb of the lungs, again a family member of the borage plant.  Flowers make you see that nature can create more beauty in a flower than any painted image. The poem is of course the written essay and he ends with the one line.............

The eye of touch is  Borage blue.  Oliver Southall

And now for mouths to feed;  Mother and kitten feed at the table, still have not organised for the capture of the feral mother cat for neutering, but a sweet photo..............

They appear around lunchtime, hiding behind the wall, and swiftly vanish when I come out, the mother cat shows all the signs of having produced many kittens with her thin underside.

Saturday 4th January 2020

quote from the Talmud: “Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief. Do justly, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.”

I have approached this New Year with hope, yes there are terrible catastrophes happening, the loss of life in Australia, and here I talk of animal life as well as human. The leaning of world leaders to the right and the consequences that it will bring to human rights.  Trump and his government (for he does not work alone) have committed one of those foolish warlike acts and now we await the consequences but to a degree he has been rebuffed by some in the Western World.

Dominic Raab, foreign secretary has said.....

Urging all parties to de-escalate the situation, he added: “Further conflict is in none of our interests.”

"The French president, Emmanuel Macron, consulted with his Russian counterpart, Vladimir Putin, by phone and called on Iran to refrain from escalating the crisis. Russia said both leaders agreed the American “action might seriously escalate tensions in the region”.

We shall see.  On a more local note, I bought a bag of coal yesterday just in case the oil runs out, apparently, like the greedy souls they are, the price of oil has gone up.  Someone out there always pleased to make some money out of conflict.

January - Wolf-monet

Quotation from the Hubbard book; Neolithic Dew-ponds and Cattle ways - 1905 I just loved this book for its inaccuracies.

The month which we now call January our Saxon ancestors called wolf-monat, to wit, wolf-moneth, because people are wont always in that month to be in more danger to be devoured of wolves, than in any else season of the year; for that, through the extremity of cold and snow, these ravenous creatures could not find of other beasts sufficient to feed upon. Richard Verstegan, Restitution of Decayed Intelligence in Antiquities 1673

I collect stories, this one appeals because it is my birthday month, as indeed Jennies as I have just found out.  I love the wolves as well and have written of them before.

Here for instance is a video talked over by Monbiot on the Wolves of Yellowstone Park a video that talks about trophic cascade* .

Well I started writing this yesterday then remembered a book I had called 'Reliquaries' a delightful compendium of stories and poems, stranded through with two line sayings.  So having ordered this year's book, I read through.  The essay on 'The Last Wolf in Britain' has many towns and villages describing the slaying of the poor old wolf, till at last it was no more.  Though of course there have been introductions in Scotland in confined areas of modern wolves.

But then came across the 'Green Children of Woolpit'  a medieval story of two children that appeared in Suffolk, now either you take the story without the explanation or you listen to this, rather arrogant chap,  (Cummings will take him to his heart, the very essence of weird comes to mind).  The theories are interesting of course.... and somewhere at the beginning is a wolf pit as well.

*"Trophic cascade, an ecological phenomenon triggered by the addition or removal of top predators and involving reciprocal changes in the relative populations of predator and prey through a food chain, which often results in dramatic changes in ecosystem structure and nutrient cycling."

Really and Truly wittering

Well I have been up since 3 am this morning with Lucy, who was walking the floor in her nervy condition.  I sometimes think this hysteria business is caused by bad dreams, anyway she is asleep in a chair now at 6 am.

During this period I watched Youtube, a fascinating video/s of mudlarking on the Thames.  From 19th century pipes to Tudor bricks, Bellarmine jug tops and rings.  From the coloured glass Nicola White from Tideline Art makes pretty  glass fish.

It reminded me of long ago when in my 20s I worked at the small business my grandfather had started up in Great Dunmow, Essex.  It was called Pickard Marine, and we did not actually make boats but the engines that went inside, and our main contractor and which kept the factory running, was in fact Colchester lathes I think.  Anyway the small boats had to be tested.  This involved taking one to London and the Thames.

I think it was an aluminum boat, shallow in the water, off we set.  Probably one of the most frightening experiences at the time, on this giant river with large boats sweeping past.  The problem came when we had to bring it ashore through all that stinky mud.  We managed and then someone called over to us from a large barge, beautifully furnished, that they were obviously living on, and offered us a cup of tea and basin to wash our very muddy feet in.  Such kindness but they were horrified at us rank amateurs tackling the Thames. 

Another incident involved me taking this boat out on the Essex coastline, amongst a great flock of sailing boats, unfortunately, a steering wire came off the handle to steer and I went round and round in circles with all these people yelling at me.  I hate boats!  Luckily all these experiments proved to be no good and the boat side was forgotten.

But to yesterday and an afternoon of mulled wine and mince pies.   Well I sat down by the side of someone who sends me emails from the local G/P coincidentally and we chattered away on the problems of politics in the area.  One point I bought up was going out in the evening to meetings and driving which I wasn't keen on and where to park when I got to the pub. We thought daytime meetings at a local cafe might be the answer.  I love the phlegmatic way people accept that they are not going to win a seat in the general election, you lose £500 for a start, a sort of entering fee, we are not big shots like the Americans, or indeed the conservative party with large donations from wealthy outsiders.

E discussed a couple of groups she belongs to, one is in Malton, a lunch where you pay £15 (rather expensive!) for the meal, £10 of which goes on the meal the rest to the charity, you have to bring a newspaper headline along rather than talk about family -  hmm not sure on restrictions.  The other group was also female doing things together theatre, talks, book criticising, etc.  Not a great fan of groups and happy with my gardening club but I am thinking of having coffee mornings even if it is just to bring people together.

Happy New Year and may it bring you all that you wish.

To be totally honest, it has always seemed to me that one year slips seamlessly into the next, we mark the advent of a New Year in a definitive manner but in the olden days I suspect it would have  been different.

It was a beautiful day yesterday blue skies above and no wind so we went for a walk, Lucy and I.  Just outside the pub, a bike screeched to a halt besides me, it was David back from a long ride to Harome village.  The name Harome means rock/stones, and translates from old English meaning a heap of stones.

Try saying it, it is a bit like clearing your throat, harum-scarum always jogs through my mind when I say it.  Small village on the edge of the moors with a bespoke restaurant, though I have never actually been.  But looking at the Telegraph's article, 'truffled faggots' does not fill me with delight.

As we gossiped about the village he said that he had only found out the day before of the sad case of the man who had commited suicide. And in that in your face Yorkshire way of speaking asked if I had contemplated it.  Faced with such a question, how do you answer? If I was to say yes, they would put me on a watch alert, so I gave my reply, considered yes, but what a terrible legacy to leave one's family so no the world is a beautiful place.

There have been two suicides in the villages in the last few months, the young lad filled me with despair at such a loss, but the widower gave up on life without his partner and I understand that.

Today I go for mince pies and mulled wine to the other end of the village this afternoon, it is almost as if we are split in half, there was that falling out over the wind turbine.  How whenever there is an event in the village, everyone always sits with their friends and do not intermingle, perhaps we should have a choir.

One resolution as the weather gets better I shall visit the churches and village round here.  The rivers rise on the moors and then make their way down to the Vale of Pickering,  Harome is part of the parish of Helmsley, that pretty Yorkshire town with its castle and square.

Sometimes you just want to chase rivers, as this below found on British History Online. The naming of rivers in this part of the world seems a strange mixture.  I have crossed the Rye many times, but the Esk seems to have its roots in O/E water, and the Riccal... It is a tributary of the River Rye, which in turn is a tributary of the River Derwent. The name originates in the fourteenth century as Ricolvegraines means Rye Calf, where Calf is a small island near a larger one.

Ouse is quite probably related to the PIE *wed- or *ud-, meaning water as an inanimate substance (whence whiskey, the Greek ύδωρ (hydro-), the English water, the German Wasser (water), the Russian вода (water), ведро (bucket), выдра (otter), the Latin onda (wave), the German Undine, etc.). Not sure about the others. –

Chasing etymology; which is always a delight in the naming of rivers, woods, villages for it captures our relationship to the land and the many invasions Britain has suffered.  I am wittering as usual..................

¶

Helmsley parish stretches from Ryedale to the southern slopes of the Cleveland Hills, where rise the Rye and its northern tributaries, each with its dale. On the northern slopes of this watershed are similar dales worn by the southern tributaries of the River Esk. The highest point of this district of solitary mountainous moorland is Burton Head, which rises from Bilsdale East Moor, 1,489 ft. above ordnance datum. The Rye rises on Snilesworth Moor in Cleveland 700 ft. above ordnance datum, and as it enters this parish (the first in 'Ryedale') receives the Seph from Bilsdale and the Riccal through Riccal Dale. The Rye then descends between thickly wooded, steep banks and flows by the ruins of the Cistercian abbey to which it gave its name—Rievaulx—and the quaint compact village consisting of a few stone and tile cottages scattered along a by-road running between the main roads to Helmsley from Hawnby and Thirsk. The river continues between thickly wooded hills rising sharply on either hand. It turns Sproxton Mill and then winds on to Helmsley Bridge.

Potted thoughts

Looking at Dominic Cummings;  Well first let me say he has swallowed a whole lot of books and their theories and then regurgitated them into his blogs.  Okay says he, lets head for the highly intelligent person, whip them into shape and allow them full throttle over the landscape of our lives and the government of this country.  

In fact he reminds me of those  brick like computer books that came with the first computers that entered our homes.  A blow by blow account of how to use your computers (tedious and dull) and in his case how to run the country.  Is this what we have engineered in this particular generation a person who sees the managerial side in such a manner. 

Perhaps more frightening is this, that which is being taught in our schools and colleges to unleash on us a robotic figure wedded to a particular ideology.  Rachel mentions Seumas Milne on the Left, and the same restricted viewpoint is there as well.  What were our two opposing political parties aiming for? Do we need such radical restructuring?  Maybe yes is my answer, after all it is the young who inherit the earth.  But in the era of AI are we not already beginning to be the robots, calculating how to win a viewpoint, a statistical nightmare trying to herd kittens.

I came across a figure like Cummings very early on.  This was Derek Wall, a Green Party figure in Bath.  He emerged as a young lad on my then husband's  archaeological dig.  Intensive, very intellectual, an argumentative soul.  I remember him now grown up marching into a GP meeting room with several of his cohorts and changing the vote in his favour.  He was frightening in his determination to rule.  This was the split in the GP, into red/green. a socialist split that took many years to come to terms with the radicalism of the people involved.  Perhaps comfortingly, he now sits on the sideline but to be honest I have never scrutinised the inner workings of the GP party.
It will be an interesting year 2020, will Johnson fulfil any of his promises, or will there be a sneaky attrition of many values, and will Cummings still rule quietly in the Cabinet, undermining the old guard. And do we want that old guard back anyway?

Monday 30th December 2019

I decided to take up crochet this year, so bought these two books to get some ideas.  Well 'Rainbow Crocheted Blankets' is the one I like, but.... she dyes the wool she uses, natural dyes no less.   Have decided one in the colour-ways red and some green, my choices are limited in terms of material, cochineal and madder for red, dyers weld for green, though playing around with the mordant copper can give you some pretty greens.   So some more spinning, I only have Downland wool, rather harsh compared to Blue faced Leicester wool, but it will have to do.
One problem is that ordering small items over the net, the price of what you order is small and the price of postage high. 

Last night the most fabulous sunset, you could almost believe in God when you looked up at the sky, Turner is the only person in my books who captured the sky.  My camera definitely does not, but I refuse to buy another.  Clouds dimple in their colour ways, which meld with such beauty.

I like the starkness of the built environment against the sky.  It reminds me of those black and white Victorian cut outs.

A lighter look at life

Olga Wisinger Florian 1844-1926

Poppies chosen for their summery feel....  Words chosen at random.  Years ago I kept 'commonplace books' and then threw them away.  Perhaps I regret that action now, but there again we move on and restructure our thinking.  Jane Goodall is the only female amongst the four, and that is something new in my lifetime, the rise of the other half of the world, commonly referred to as 'women' ;)  The youngest kid on the block, Greta Thunberg has sailed into view and I wish her success as she ploughs on but in the end it is us that must do the groundwork of seeing that we do not destroy the world we live in.

As for Jeremy Corbyn being included, I think a great disservice has been done to him, by the lightweight cruel commentary that goes for our newspaper media nowadays.  But then because political battles are fought with words my New Year resolution is going to be.....................read up on Dominic Cummings, one should always know one's enemies!

Wurzel Gummidge

Wurzel Gummidge. 

Mackenzie Crook has captured the moment once more in his adaptation of Wurzel Gummidge.  The Scarecrow is really scary and this lovely evocative drama gently makes you laugh but then there is the frisson of fear as the unknown is called on.  Anyone who has seen The Detectorists will remember the gentle humour that ran through it and also the loving look at the countryside.  Well Crook has managed it again.  With hints of a pagan nature era, he goes and chats to the 'tree of trees' to unbind the spell that has made the seasons stop. Reminding us that on the Winter Solstice not so long ago, for three days the sun stays where it is before it moves on again.  The crows are called into action (remember the magpies in The Detectorists as their nest of gold coins fell to the ground below). too divest the tree of trees in the supermarket of all the plastic bags that hang so untidily from its branches, in return for the secret of how to start the seasons again.  The key is to be found in a pattern on Wurzel's neck tie, and one night the scarecrows gather in the ten acre field to make the pattern.  This is made like a crop circle under the full moon, and of course everything returns to normal, the apples ripen in the orchard and the wheat turns yellow overnight.

A pretty eco fairy story but cleverly written and the countryside, which is Bedfordshire is glorious.

Wurzel Gummidge on BBC Iplayer

27th December 2019

John Bercow, ex Speaker of the House; Another person telling us to behave graciously, I would just like to say that I have never argued with anyone over the touchy subject of Brexit, only got cross on my blog about it, and of late have accepted the inevitable. I shall miss John Bercow, his successor is so quiet just like a mouse whereas Bercow was flamboyant and opinionated.  And obviously this 'alternate Christmas speech' was pulled apart by the right wing papers but the Queen's speech was as always as gracious as ever.  

Over the Xmas period I have had to deal with people who did not know of Paul's death.  I wrote to the studio in Japan after receiving a card, and they must have told another friend of Paul's, and once more I glimpse a fragment of the person I loved so much.  This friend works in America in Boston and was full of praise for Paul, he sent me a long email this morning.  Sometimes when I look back at the gentle person I knew and how he felt about the work he had devoted his life to, in the end saying he could not do it anymore I feel I should write some kind of essay for him.

"Paul paved the way for many of us working in Japanese paintings conservation and he wrote eloquently on his subject, editing a special edition of the Paper Conservator – ‘Hyogu – the Japanese tradition in picture conservation’  that was published in 1985 and has since become a standard reference work on the subject.  The techniques and materials he wrote about were also an inspiration to conservators of Western paper, who were keen to adapt and adopt them for their work, too."

Paul collected many papers and was indeed an expert on them, there are in his study four great parcels of them, one of his dreams was to make paper, but you have to live by a clean river or stream, we had thought of this once when in Wales.  We had visited the mill at Middle Mill just outside Solva and watched the small river flow through the mill, the old mill wheel still in place but now there are just looms for making the rugs there.  It was a  place I had always loved, very tranquil, approached by lanes from four sides, deep in the heart of Pembrokeshire.  But Paul did not fancy Wales so in the end we ended up in Yorkshire.

By Dr Duncan Pepper, 

I shall stop for the moment, memories are rushing through my head, but somehow I am energised by the landscapes that float through my brain.

26th December

Well what to touch on this morning? Well what about funny presents.  I am walking around in a new pair of slippers, which I asked for, stipulating no mules as I would probably fall over and may I say they are warm and comfortable, good show M&S and to my daughter.  But then when I mentioned my hair was getting thinner, my daughter rushed out of the room and came back with a caffeine shampoo, weirdly it was for males so obviously not bought for me.  I expect you have seen that creepy advert with the woman saying 'especially good for women over 40' well I tick the box there, though I do drink a lot of tea as well, perhaps I should just pour it over my head.  Also there was a delicious box of M&S chocolate biscuits, thickly coated in chocolate.  The family had started eating them on the train but I will forgive there.....

My son never buys me any thing, though I hint loud enough but Xmas passes him by and his nose is buried in his laptop.

Xmas lists are the best answer, I give my daughter money for all of them which goes into a central pot, and they can buy what they want.  Tom, who likes good clothes but can't choose them, gets an overcoat from his mum.  Ben, who buys specific  clothes that are very expensive treats himself to the latest.  Matilda, clothes and makeup star on her list.  Lillie, desired a Swiss army knife this time around, she is part of the scouts/guide team which explains the need for a good penknife.  My daughter's list included pillows and mattress cover, like me she is more practical.

Happy Christmas family ;)

I want to learn how major trends in human history, both hopeful and worrisome, work themselves out: the dangers and promise of our technology, say; the emancipation of women; the growing political, economic, and technological ascendancy of China; interstellar flight. If there were life after death, I might, no matter when I die, satisfy most of these deep curiosities and longings. But if death is nothing more than an endless dreamless sleep, this is a forlorn hope. Maybe this perspective has given me a little extra motivation to stay alive. The world is so exquisite, with so much love and moral depth, that there is no reason to deceive ourselves with pretty stories for which there’s little good evidence. Far better, it seems to me, in our vulnerability, is to look Death in the eye and to be grateful every day for the brief but magnificent opportunity that life provides.”

Carl Sagan,  Thoughts on Life and Death at the Brink of the Millennium.

Well it is Xmas day, my daughter phones, you haven't written anything on your blog for two days mum!  Well there is hardly anything to write about, my visitors, children and grandchildren have visited and it was truly lovely to see them.  Matilda asleep on the sofa after a late night, and Lillie as ever herself.  My daughter Karen, is just happy to rest after working long hours in her new job, with which she is perfectly happy, so we did not go out.

Matilda asleep

Lillie and the psychotic dog Lucy, who misbehaved all day

Xmas table, those crackers had useful items in like shoe horn and nail clippers.

Another branch of the family taken early in the year in London.  Leo, Paul's grandchild sits in the middle

I chose Sagan to head the blog, I like his tone and his extraordinary ability for enthusiasm, I wonder how he would see the world today though? What with Trump, Johnson and several right wing politicians in power.  I pick my gurus carefully, Sagan will always be one, and just to throw some pepper into the mix, I think Greta Thunberg will be another. 

Picked up the Times on Saturday, to read Matthew Parris, sadly he was away, but Giles Coren was there, as also Caitlin Moran for her sharp wit.

Finished my Newstateman, they have no answers to the future, think it rests on us to keep on fighting for a different world.  A rather good article on Woodstock and where it all went wrong.

And something we all watched on TV, the 1970s music era, Karen's 'growing up' period to her with music that has not been matched since!  Also she mentioned she still had some records of mine Leonard Cohen (dark and dismal) and Melanie, who never seemed to make it big in this country.  But hear she is singing 'Ruby Tuesday' though I always remember 'Lay Down'

Sunday 22nd December

One of my favourite songs at Xmas 'The Boar's Head' sung in this instance by Steeleye Span with Maddy Prior.  Though I must admit 'The King's Choir' Cambridge is probably better.  It is an early medieval carol, and is often described as macabre, probably for the image of the severed head of the boar. 

Today my daughter, two grandchildren and Teddy the whippet come for a couple of days.  Lucy will have fun terrorizing Teddy, she is very sneaky, and just growls very quietly her lip raised.  Teddy will head straight for the bedroom upstairs, terrified by her and there he will stay and Lucy will reign supreme.  Wretch that she is. 

When I was a child, bought up by my grandfather, he once cooked a pig's head.  Basically you do this to remove the meat, it can look pretty  in aspic jelly, with a few other things, I remember sliced eggs and tomatoes.  But  doubt if I ever ate it. Nowadays we have 'clean' butchered meat but in the 50s food was still scarce, and every bit of the pig was eaten.  Trotters and green pea soup another.  

Today the candles and fire will be lit, the girls will sprawl with their phones and the television will catch all those Xmas programmes!  On the 25th, I shall be quiet and alone but with Paul.  I shall spin, or maybe even set up a warp on the long dining table, something I have been wanting to do for ages.  A friend will call in as well and there are invitations from people in the village, but i want to be quiet.

In many ways I write for Paul, he always read it each day in the past, I can hear the robin outside demanding attention......

21st December = Winter Solstice

A Happy Winter Solstice, may the candles burn on this shortest of days and may light once more return to our benighted land in the New Year. But I can't resist the factual evidence on this day.

A Game of Henge - Stonehenge

Phillip Gross

A game of Henge, my masters?

The pieces are set. We lost the box

with instructions years ago.

Do you see Hangman? Or

Clock Patience? Building bricks

the gods grew out of? Dominoes?

It's your move. You're in the ring

of the hills, of the stones, of the walls

of your skull. You want to go?

You want out? Good - that's

the game. Whichever way you turn

are doors. Choose. Step through, so...

And whichever world you stumble into

will be different from all the others, only

what they might have been,

you'll never know.

I had coffee with my friend yesterday morning and we chatted away, she mentioned the Ronald Hutton book on the table about Pagan religions, well if you want to know what the professor thinks of this subject on which he has written reams, then read this article.  His gentle historian's viewpoint and intellectual knowledge of such things as paganism and Druidism will settle your mind about religion, as Phillip Gross's poem does.  But it is a long read working through the imaginations of so many men through the centuries.  

We create our belief systems and then get cross when others take a different view, this is wrong, welcome the creativity of belief, foster it if you must, but don't let it turn to hate and violence.
Why do I write of Stonehenge today?  It is the Solstice when people gather (for free, occasionally English Heritage is kind) at Stonehenge on Sunday, though this wet miserable weather that is flooding our fields, roads and railways will be difficult for travel.

I spy Arthur Uther Pendragon, on the right of the central figure.  Yes fancy dress is acceptable!

I actually respect these modern day druids, but they are playing around with facts, Stonehenge was not built by the druids, basically because they came later.  Paul and I went to the opening of the new EH centre at Stonehengein 2013, again wet and miserable you can read the blog here, it was my birthday present to Paul, though he hated the weather.  And you should be able to spot Pendragon in the next, rather badly taken,  photo as they demonstrated once more that Stonehenge belonged to modern day Pagans.....

Alice Roberts - archaeologist, article

Friday 20th December - shortest day tomorrow

 Taken by Pwojdacz, Public Domain,

We went to Castle Howard in the end, in dull wet weather, it hardly looked the place where you would spend £20 on a ticket - so we didn't!.  I took photos of the surrounding area and puzzled at the so called  schemes of the wealthy who built such piles.  It looks gorgeous in the sun in the photo, a symmetrical classic, started in 1699 though it took a 100 years to build.  The grounds are surrounded by roughly a fifteen foot wall with turrets strategically placed.  But this is not a defended castle just a pretty show of wealth and aspiration.  You will see from the following dull photos the actuality of it.  But that did not stop hundreds of people coming, the car parks were full
I have just delivered my son to the train, and in tears drove home, though my friend is coming for coffee this morning, so the day will be full for there is shopping to be done as well for my daughter and grandchildren this weekend.
My son managed to get Paul's two computers going, after we had sussed the passwords.  One is on Window 7, Paul hated 'new' programmes, but of course it will be updated at some stage. 

there is a folly on the horizon

reckon these are stables

near to the house

I love this old tree and so do the owners obviously

The wall

large festive garland

We did try to go to the moors, but persistent fog and snow as we drove up to the moors made me turn round, not a place to get stuck on in winter.