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| Fashionable benches everywhere |
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| Andrew was such a hero as he caught me every time I stumbled ;) |
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| Always like the detail B/W photos produce |
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| I think the large building facing the camera was the Town Hall |
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| The Gallery in Lister Park |
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| Fashionable benches everywhere |
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| Andrew was such a hero as he caught me every time I stumbled ;) |
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| Always like the detail B/W photos produce |
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| I think the large building facing the camera was the Town Hall |
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| The Gallery in Lister Park |
History in the making - 2007
Does anyone remember Trinny and Susannah - Women Undress. An ITV show which featured these two fashion women dressing poor females who thought themselves as dumpy or ill wardrobed. That maybe cruel but then light hearted entertainment is all about that sort of thing.
| Wilmington Long Man. Taken from Wiki - Cupcake kid |
Well the two women committed a crime against one of the precious monuments of England - The Wilmington Long Man. For historic evidence go to the Wiki here, but it was a medieval figure marked out by chalk. The idea was to turn the 'man' into a 'woman'. Good thing they did not try it on The Cerne Giant, getting rid of his penis might have been a problem!
| Cerne Giant taken from Wiki - Peter Harlow |
It is the sheer silliness of it all that still makes me giggle, what were those hundred women, dressed in their white suites, thinking about. Was this women's liberation gone batty, or was it the fault of a producer that had hardly left London to think up this silly prank. The dignified Druids turned their backs on the women as they came down the side of the hill away from the monument.
All this came back this morning when I was thinking about the chalk giant in John Hooker's poem. At least it has stopped raining now. It was a gentle sound though noisier on the Velux windows in the attic.
When times were different: Steve Reed mentioned Space Odyssey 2001 and I remember going to see it. When I looked it up it had been released in May 1968. Must have been pregnant then because I gave birth to my daughter in August. As a film it just blew me away. The black monolith turning in space, yet no answer for its being there. The renegade computer called Hal, cutting the lifeline of one of the aeronauts as he works in space, the killing of the cryonic people frozen in time for the settling on a new planet. But before that, I must have seen as a child Robbie the Robot in 'Forbidden Planet'. All those years back and yet Musk still has not cracked the nut of space travel to other planets...hmm
The first AI computers were born and HAL proved that things can go awry easily enough as he rebels against the humans. As a note of comfort, a human person did manage to disable him/it/HAL (I'm not sexing a computer;) and HAL pleads for its presence/life. I have lived through the coming of the dawn of computers, as a young child who became obsessed with H.G.Wells and his sci-fi stories. The space age was definitely an opening story to life, shame it fizzled down to little robotic hoovers trailing around on the carpet with often the cat sitting on it.
And talking of cats Mollie is no longer constipated thank goodness. How do you cure a cat and administer some magical potion of medicine? You swaddle them in a towel and as they open their mouths to complain you squirt the medicine in with the pipit you are holding in the other hand.
There was a programme in the night discussing a washing the dishes robot but surely the dishwasher fulfils that role. Slightly disappointed! If you look at the Americans who land on Robbie's planet, you will see a version of America we all thought of them then, clean shaven and noble. How did Trump arrive on the scene of history? by what paths did he waddle towards the ways of a fascist and authoritanism state. A different state of which was defeated in the year I was born.
Slightly disorientated this morning, the clocks have gone back an hour, once I had worked that out my day proceeds normally.
Let me fill the white space with words. Firstly Phillip Pullman has brought out a new book, the final book on Lyra, we shall see. It is called 'The Rose Field' Lyra is looking for her daemon. Daemons are attachments of animals that reflect the person they accompany, as I haven't read all the books I don't know when the loss occurred. But it was noticeable on the radio this morning that Pullman was very against AI which goes round vacuuming up all the knowledge in the world. And presumably regurgitating it into new computer speak.
I did a little study of left-handedness yesterday. I am left handed and have gone through life unperturbed by being so. True at kindergarten the nuns tried to make me use my right hand but I could not. Apparently though you are sometimes seen as neurodivergent and could have other neurological offsets. In practice 10% of us are l/h and it just means we use the different sides of our brain differently. We are indistinguishable from the rest of the population by the way ;) ;) but perhaps my need for a daemon distinguishes me a little.
Of course not to forget that l/h is sometimes referred to as 'sinister'. This because sinister in Latin meant left, and so sometimes through history, those l/h persons were often seen as evil and dark and witchlike. Well as it is coming up to Halloween - who knows?
I made a fish pie yesterday, it was slightly austere because there was no cream to enrich the very lemony sauce I cover the fish with. But a few garlicked mushrooms and plenty of grated cheese on the mash enlivened it. I had picked up some sprouts that morning, love sprouts but they are not for everyone, that includes Andrew. I think sprouts have improved since our childhood recollections of them, they have a more nutty and sweet flavour.
Anyway Andrew went out later and got some cream for the first apple crumble of the season, which is probably my most favourite of puddings. My next favourite pudding is Eton Mess, a gloriously messy jumble of meringue, strawberries and cream. Can also bring on a headache because of the richness. My third favourite must be Bakewell Tart but it should have home made jam at its base to compliment the ground almonds above.
It is International Archaeology Day, the third Saturday in the month of October. And Silbury Hill went through my wallpaper on the computer. It stands proud in the landscape, often surrounded by water, the information says
Silbury Hill in Wiltshire, England, may seem like a simple slope in the countryside. However, it conceals a 4,500-year-old Neolithic enigma. Starting around 2400 BCE, chalk was locally quarried, transported and compacted by hand, layer by layer, over generations. The result is the tallest prehistoric mound in Europe, built entirely by human effort, rising to over 39 metres.
There were actually three mounds built within a few miles of each other. The Marlborough Mound, standing conspicuously in the grounds of Marlborough College, school to many a British scholar, and in the Pewsey Valley, Marden Mound now razed to the ground over the centuries. The Marlborough Mound, only recently seen as a Neolithic monument is rather messed up by being part of the school's playground.
But to return to Silbury, Paul's great love and where he wanted his ashes thrown, though this later translated to the Yorkshire village we had settled in and loved. The flat top is something of a conundrum, some would argue that it was a Saxon defense. Marlborough was a Saxon town and there were several battles fought in the area. Other theories have it as a catchment area for water or a copy of the Egyptian pyramids.
I have written so much about the hill I shall stop but leave you with an old photograph taken by Jacquetta Hawkes. The photo must be about 70 years old but the hill is still the same but throwing a great cone shaped shadow.
Bones of our wild forefathers
O forgive,
If now we pierce the chambers of your rest,
And open your dark pillows to the eye
Of the irreverent Day!
Hark, as we move,
Runs no stern whisper through the narrow vault?
Flickers no shape across our torch-light pale,
With backward beckoning arm?
No, all is still.
O that it were not!
O that sound or sign,
Vision, or legend, or the eagle glance
Of science, could call back thy history lost,
Green Pyramid of the plains, from far-ebbed Time!
O that the winds which kiss thy flowery turf
Could utter how they first beheld thee rise;
When in his toil the jealous Savage paused,
Drew deep his chest, pushed back his yellow hair,
And scanned the growing hill with reverent gaze,
-Or haply, how they gave their fitful pipe**
To join the chant prolonged o'er warriors cold
. -Or how the Druid's mystic robe they swelled;
Or from thy blackened brow on wailing wing
The solemn sacrificial ashes bore,
To strew them where now smiles the yellow corn,
Or where the peasant treads the Churchward***path
Emmeline Fisher
An unknown poet from Wiltshire, but her mother was a first cousin of Wordsworth. Born 1825 and died in 1864. Some information on Emmeline to be found here and here on Emmeline's poetry (Wordsworth thought she was a genius)
Mission — Friends of Bridestones Rewilded
Good news yesterday, or so I hope. Bridestone Moor, approximately 114 acres of moorland has been bought for 'rewilding' by a local group of people. The princely sum of £387,000 has been raised and it is now a done deal.
Traditional conservation of species through managed populations is not always in keeping with rewilding values. There remain conflicting arguments surrounding the ecological importance of species such as the red grouse because there is a history of it being a managed species bred and released on moorlands for game shooting. This means that the numbers and distribution of red grouse today may not reflect that of natural population if unmanaged. The natural selection pressures that determine the delicate balance of species numbers and cohabitation with other species, are difficult to predict and replicate.
The poor old red legged grouse is a game bird, The Glorious 12th and all that. I can see how this land got sold off, there is a public right on the moor to visit the area and especially the Bridestones, as we did the other week. Members of the public are not allowed to be shot!
| A grouse butt for hiding in because those grouse are such bullies. Sorry |
Funnily enough I haven't seen any butts up on the moors here not like the North Yorkshire moors pictured above. You can see that I am no fan of shooting the millions of introduced and bred pheasants. And grouse. So already we are talking of a 'managed environment' if they allow shooting on the moor.
Apparently the grouse are prone to worm, this due to overgrazing of the heather so this is somewhat of a break in their breeding. But medicated grit is also put down to help with this problem of worms.
It will be good to see the Belted Galloway cattle up on the moor, I saw them down on the Cornish moors such as Bodmin Moor.
West Yorkshire moor brought under community ownership - Co-operative News
So the release went through of the Israeli hostages and the Palestinian prisoners, for which much rejoicing. But of course this is only a fragile beginning of hope to a better world. And yes Trump must be thanked for his contribution to peacemaking, though I believe it was his son-in-law in his wheeling and dealing with the Arab states that brought people together. Now the solution.
The Autumn darkness creeps in, I have the bright pinkness of geraniums flowering on my windowsill, plants grateful for being saved and brought into the warmth.
On the family front I am 'home alone', daughter and partner having gone to Genoa for a few days. Photographs through email. I am perfectly happy to stay in one place and be still, listening to members of the crow family greeting each other this morning. Soon the Canadian geese will fly over to the canal and then the ducks hitting the water with a splash, both species ready to happily collect the food people will throw in. Not bread of course is the usual mantra but bird seed and frozen peas. The problem is I have never walked along the towpath with a packet of frozen peas.....
I am looking for photos to decorate and cannot find recent ones this is because they are still on my camera and I can't be a**** to find the camera, maybe later but two photos I have picked up along the way, the first is Japanese Anemones
and have never escaped out into the 'wild'. I suspect they have long since gone because the old house was 'done up' by the retired people who bought it and has been shaped into a modern version of goodness knows what.
The second is Amitabha Buddha of Eternal light, from the Edo period. There is a certain smug satisfaction in that face. He is associated with infinite life and happiness and if you call on him at the point of death he will take you to his Pure Land. A nice thought if it were true. Religions offer such prizes to keep you going through life ;) One can read about him in this wiki.
This is going to be a bitty blog post. Random thoughts brought together. We live in hope, or so Rebecca Solnit would want for us. The first thought has been nagging at the back of my brain the last few days. We live next door to an Asian family, when I moved in a couple of years ago (or longer) the little boy came up to me and said "hello, I am your neighbour", whenever their cricket ball thumps my window and I feel cross I remember that.
There is a small Muslim community in Tod, I see the men going to prayer many days. The Singh community and the Muslim community help when there is a flooding crisis in the town they bring in food and help to clear the houses of water. Surely very neighbourly.
I think up North they have a very different attitude to people of other religions. Yes I know the terrible thing that happened in Manchester when another fanatical Muslim person attacked at the Jewish synagogue, it was terrible but it was one crazily stupid terrorist. He was shot dead by the police and a vigil was held for the two Jewish men who had died at this moment in time.
Tony Walsh wrote a poem, it was given out at the last time time in 2022, at the concert in Manchester Arena when another terrorist bomber killed 22 people, mostly youngsters 'This is the Place' you can find it in the highlighted link.
We have Andy Burnham as the mayor of Manchester now and listening to him speaking on the religious programme this morning, he said he was a lapsed Catholic. Same as me, though actually it was the young child in me at Sunday school, who asked the pertinent question as I looked down at my prayer book. So, if that bearded man is God of us all, why do Chinese and all those other people on the planet not believe in him? That thought scuppered my religious beginnings from an early age.
But one thing I am fairly sure about is that Jesus's teachings were right to love one's neighbour. And so today, I fervently hope that the hostages will be released in Palestine tomorrow and that some kind of peace will be arrived at, And that terrible broken place of Palestine will one day be rebuilt.
****************************
As usual blowing their own Northern trumpets!!!
This is the place in the North West of England
It’s ace, it’s the best and the songs that we sing
From the stands, from our bands set the whole planet shaking
Our inventions are legends! There’s nowt we can’t make and
| Safe Harbour |
The Co-Op: To be found in Todmorden, now it is 'The Kindness Cafe' and where we had lunch yesterday. It was very full and Matilda's and my food was very late, the other two had eaten up their meals. It is part of the kindness charity that lays at the work of many people who volunteer in Todmorden. For £8 you can get, a vegan breakfast meal, or a vegetarian meal, or a carnivore's meal of sausages. This of course is the only way to go to cater for the wide variety of tastes.
"fair exchange, just price, and the right to charity."
The Co-op started down North as people came together and questioned the right of the mill owner to his wealth and why wasn't it spread more widely. It came because a movement had formed called Owenism and the people who spread this gospel called Owenites The movement came into being in Rochdale under the many co-operatives forming, in about 1844, spreading out to the large towns such as Huddersfield and Manchester. Owen built a rural community next to his works, this was an experiment in an Utopian vision. The town of Saltaire is very much an example of this, built by Titus Salt for the great mill factory he had established and then with housing built for the mill workers and managers.
Listening to Zak Polanski of the Green Party and his talk on the media exchange and one cannot but feel he is carrying on the tradition as he rails against the wealthy (and about time). The right to charity has of course been replaced by the social network that provides help too many people. Also I notice that the old hot potato, Universal Basic Income for everyone, has been pulled out of the dusty cupboard of Green Socialism.
The Co-op as a supermarket is more expensive than either Aldi or Lidl but it can be found in most towns Up North. Not in Tod but in Hebden Bridge, and are they being snobbish? (or perhaps loyal to the traditions of the area) to only allow the Co-op supermarket in the town.
After the wedding a couple of weeks ago, the flowers had to be cleared off the tables for the next wedding event, so we brought ours home and some of them dried as well, a good memory of the wedding.
Thursday Evening: The wind is picking up outside, a medium type storm, heavy rain and its glitter on the road. We need peace, people are starting to agitate, against so many things. A memory that flashed through my F/B page yesterday from 11 years back.
The green tunnel of trees you drive through before reaching Blakes Wood.
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| Sweet chestnut |
The modern Tavener creates religious music as did the old Taverner, it must appeal to some sort of ex Catholic faith that lingers in my soul. Listening I realise it is that moment when the bow is drawn across the violin it still makes a shiver go down my spine as we plunge into the music.
Family wise, well for a few days it has just been me and Andrew at home, Karen went off to Vevey to see her aunt and came back yesterday afternoon. At the weekend Andrew's son will be down. Andrew had been plotting a big walk but with Storm Amy? on the horizon it might be cancelled, then on Saturday afternoon they go to Leeds for the football match. Matilda will also be down to have her hair done. It's cheaper coming back to Tod then hairdressers in London.
Yesterday patched up the pocket of some linen shorts Andrew had bought from one of the second hand sites for their trip to Genoa. Hopefully that holiday goes off safely the whole world is in the stages of unrest. My sewing ability is hampered by my eyesight, yet I can still thread a needle but knitting is getting a bit difficult. I hate dropping stitches and then having to pick them up but it keeps me focused.
