A magpie's miscellany
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| Helmsley Castle |
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| Helmsley Walled gardens 2015 |
It has been a slightly weird week, the comings and goings. Andrew stopped over for a few days to work. He loves to walk, so I got asked did I need anything from the shops several times which was sweet of him.
Lillie is back. On the kitchen table is at least an 20" inch pizza box, with a pizza inside it must have come back from the Hippodrome party last night, they always over order at the theatre. She went to two parties yesterday and today is taking us to Hebden Bridge for breakfast at her old workplace.
I was supposed to roast the chicken for tea last night but was also out to a meeting, more of that later. So we had to have a takeaway, my choice is a curry Sag Aloo, a mild spinach and potato curry, which easily makes two meals, also I have managed to note it down for future reference!
The meeting was about James 1st - Witch Hunter. The case against witches had devolved from the Catholic faith's hatred of the worship of the devil or daemonology - Satanism. James mother was Queen Mary, and James was to inherit the kingship of England as James 1st though he had been King in Scotland as James
Superstitious nonsense to us, but in a more simpler time when the storm raged, or a cow fell sick, it was easy enough to blame local women. Also easy enough, with the use of torture to extract a confession. The Catholic church has a lot of blame for those centuries of cruelty. It was in medieval Europe that the wretched Inquisitor came into being and the auto de feu whereby people were burnt at the stake.
Off topic: I quite like the fact that Phillip Pullman in his classic 'Dark Materials' also imagined a daemon but this time the daemons were animals, a representation of our inner souls. So that in the film everyone has an animal attached to him, but if you kill that animal the person dies.
One thing to note when attending meetings round here. Hebden Bridge is an 'up and coming' place to live. So there are what I call plenty of long haired middle-aged hippies around, female equivalent of course being long skirts. Now I would have thought that such a cult would have died out by now. I enjoy the odd lecture at the Folk Centre but there again the subject matters are odd and even encompasses the word WEIRD but which is a delight to my soul ;)
Also of course as the clocks have fallen back I have an odd hour to fill.
James 1st and V1 dates 1566- 1625
He was king of Scotland as James V1 from the year after his birth 1567 and King of England, Scotland and Ireland from 1603 after Elizabeth's 1st death.
Well thanks to Bensozia for this weekly link. Southerners moving to the far reaches of Orkney (bit worrying) to sell the glam life to us but what a marvellous acquisition this large, rather ugly house on Rousay is.
Truly I hope not too many of the elite class move to the Orkney islands, apart from anything, they have to cross choppy seas. But still, fashion is fashion and the pioneers are setting out to conquer or stylise maybe? the Orkneys, don't worry though, there are 10,000 islands I believe round the British Isles.
Enjoy the photos and watch the stamp of our designer couple on Westness House, who I have never met before in the land of the internet.
But apparently the Pre-Raphaelite designers have been down from London in the 19th century. thought I recognised the wallpaper and fire tiles.
There is a fascinating history in Rousay Remembered here of land ownership for the Westness House and for the whole area. And an old photo taken from the site mentioned. There is a wood next to the garden, trees are a rarity on these islands only those who were rich could afford to plant them, but of course it gave protection from the cutting winds.
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| There is almost an excoriating plainness to the frontage. It looked better under a cloak of ivy |
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| It wasn't all roses of course!! |
It is 7.30, Lillie has just arrived after travelling all night on the coach from London, two bus rides one from Manchester to Rochdale and a bus from there to here. She reckons the trains are too expensive.
She has come home to see 'Bugsy Malone' at the Hippodrome, put on by the young drama group. Yesterday evening the young Beaver scouts went by to see it, chattering loudly like a flock of birds in the sky. When they came back it was more noisy but this time - bang, bang, bang.
Yesterday a knock on the door, it was two Jehovah Witnesses standing on the pavement. Come to tell me that the Lord was good and caring for our Earth. I told them I was a pagan and therefore had my own nature gods to choose from (I am not a pagan or religiously inclined) and they went away.
But it did make me wonder what did I believe in and question my thinking many years ago when Gaia came on the scene. James Lovelock, an eminent scientist had been struck by the fact how all the gases on this Earth seemed to produce just the right atmosphere for life on this planet.
How everything worked with each other, it is called homeostasis, when everything works together and keeps a balance that is just right. Now the argument, and a very valid one of course, is that us humans have just mucked it all up. What with the industrial age and now over population. Our plant life, animals, insects all are disappearing with our use of artificial pesticides and herbicides. As we destroy the insects, and that valuable of all pollinators, the bee, whether honeybee or bumblebee, all these species are slowly being killed off. If there are no insects for the birds they die off, if there are no fish in the sea, the great whales and lesser dolphins die off due to hunger.
There is plenty of action to try and save all these creatures, it has been a sad summer without many butterflies in this country. But the truth lies in a very different venue. We have to stop! Driving our cars around for any little item, we have to learn to take less from the world around us. Not demand everything served to us on a plate.
let you know that there will be a Celebration of the Life of Pat Thistlethwaite (Weaver of Grass) in Leyburn this Thursday afternoon (2pm). It's at The Garden Rooms at Tennants. I can't make it myself.
Well today is rather a special day, a Memorial, or better still a Celebration of Weaver's life. I cannot make it down to Leyburn but I shall be there in spirit at least. Pat faced life with a lovely energy and time for everyone in blogland, she amassed many followers. Followers who listened to her wise words about her life. Her life with The Farmer, wandering over the fields and finding the wild flowers together. She faced death stoically and said her last words to all of us with kindness and I think cheerfulness. She was the example we should all be.
When I think of her, I wished I could have visited her, I know she loved the restaurant at Tennants Auction Rooms, being dined by close friends and her new red leather jacket to wear. But I never did. I visualised the journey Paul and I would have made, it would have been from Normanby in North Yorkshire, we would arrive at Sutton Bank, the sharp cliff that falls down to Gormire Lake, where once a knight rode his horse over the cliff. Down the steep road we would go to Thirsk.
We only went to this town a couple of times, and that for visiting a bank. I remember it had a cute little patchwork shop there. I still have the print of Sutton Bank on the wall, for it was here that we stopped to feed a new acquisition to the household, dear old Lucy our spaniel from The Dog's Trust. She had one of the two halves of sandwich and we shared the other between us.
Weirdly today, as I thumbed through my tablet I managed to find Weaver's blog, but I still get denied on this computer, so I don't know what is happening there.
So to all Weaver's friends in blogland and elsewhere let us to raise our glasses (of whatever) to a wonderful person who lived with such grace.
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| Moss at Solva |
The other friend from America, Jennie will know them, recognised the place it was a walk to Middle Mill, where you could buy rugs and carpeting done on old looms. It was funny, for Loie at the time recognised one stair carpet as being ordered for a library in America. Strange small facts.
Andrew has set up a small workspace in Lillie's old bedroom. The chair and desk came over the weekend, Ikea I think. Rather envious of the table it would make an ideal quilting table. So after fondue last night he made them up. He lives in Shipley, so they both spend time at each other's places, but as Andrew works on the computer he needs to be able to work from one quickly I suppose, anyway it is all set up.
Lillie is coming back next weekend, mostly to fulfil her social life and a party that is happening. The children's lives go on happily I think, Ben is ill but it is not Covid. I had my jabs over the weekend, formally organised by the surgery over the road and it goes very smoothly.
Listening to Rebecca Solnit interviewed by two American, not sure of their jobs but probably journalists. It was in Prospect Magazine which is a UK magazine set up by Alan Rusbridger. A former editor of the Guardian, might be a good Xmas present for me ;)
What you learn from Solnit is the absolute absurdity of how news is given out
Below is a video from South Africa I think. I often watch their videos of people reflecting on life. He is touching as he talks and his confession that he likes solitude at times echoes my own somewhat selfish need for aloneness.. Also describes that nervous, anxious person that is so like me. But watching him rake the stones so reminiscent of Japanese ways reminded me of Paul, who would sit in the front garden on the bench drinking a beer on a summer evening. Totally at peace and happy with life. So I hope you listen.
New sheet of paper! Well not actually but have not much to say on my computer. Listened yesterday to the person who wrote 'My Beautiful Laundrette'. He had a fall somewhere abroad and is now incapacitated in all his limbs, but still blogs every day, his children help.
I spin, glorious colours, that start out light and fluffy merino and then turn a darker shade. Whilst doing that I listen to people telling me things. You may ask do I believe them? No but I love being introduced to all the information that flails round this world.
Yesterday it was John Billingsley about 'Journey's Between the World' on Academia. He writes about the corpse paths that takes the occupants of the moors to their final resting place in the burial ground of the church.
He plots the paths, a bit like the Romans, who stood on a high piece of land and looked straight ahead and then had built straight as a die roads. But of course the moors are not like that, boggy and wet, up and down, it would have been difficult for several men to carry a heavy coffin.
He calls this space in time a liminal journey, (I was in that liminal space between past and present) an explanation of the word. To me, always in search of that liminal space, call it what you will, but I shall use Sense of Place to give it a name. Landscape which can only come into being because it has been given stories of its topography. So in this land fairies, boggarts and giants will dance with the stones and throw them great distances, till slowly as history develops the villages and towns, characters also become part of the scenery. Then of course we learn not to bury bad people in these hallowed graves in the church yard, but in subliminal places, like at the cross roads or under a great tree. Their wickedness forever underlined by the naming of this spot. So that over time we learn to dread such places.
But enough of that, I can hear the geese coming from their night's rest to go down to their daytime home in the canal, where they might get enough food.
And today's listening? Christianity Before Conversion. One of the fascinating studies in this country, is seeing the emergence of Christianity through the Saxon settlers in this country. Their burials reflect the changeover from pagan to Christianity.
Haworth cemetery
The week that was. Echoes of a long ago satirical show TWTWTW. But with our weather forecasting giving us false hurricane winds as well, wasn't there a bit of Deja Vue, did it ricochet through our minds reminding us of the storm of 1987 when Michael Fish's tame forecast came undone and we woke to all those trees brought down. 15th October 1987.
Then there is the beautiful Auroras or Northern Lights we have all been experiencing. Photos bounce through my F/B of gorgeous coloured skies, over Stonehenge or Avebury. If, of course, I had lived through prehistoric times I would be seeing signs of the gods warning us of troubled times in the future maybe.
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| photo taken from Swindon Advertiser |
As for my back ;) well a paracetamol before I get up will take away the pain of actually getting up and once walking around there is not much pain. So I shall wait for it to heal up.
I have been thinking about love and romance, something we hardly talk about in blogland. But I am sure it starts at the beginning of all relationships. The grass ring my first husband wove for me must have disintegrated into brown dust before I got the garnet engagement ring. I wear a garnet ring today from Paul, I love the dark red of this semi-precious stone. There are beautiful cloisonne Anglo-Saxon jewels found in the graves of the A/S women. Nowadays we would not be buried with our treasured belongings but then burial was an acknowledgement of lives well lived.
Well I am not sure you will be able to watch this but here goes. It is a video of the Allendale Folk Festival, I presume up in the wilds of Northumberland. It is the tale of the wolf killing, though I think the wolf died out long before this wolf was around. What made me cry though was that at the end Katy, had recorded the theme music from the Detectorists. A programme many people loved for its gentle humour and the two actors who were such losers, Paul loved it as well.
The actual music was sung by Johnny Flynn
If you can't play it try and find the programme it is very funny with a touch of pathos.
And you get Kate's Onion soup for colds, my daughter has just gone off to Switzerland with a cold to see her aunt, so I hope she doesn't pass it on.
An edit: Great news!!! a date that needs recording for the family.
An excited call from my daughter in Switzerland this afternoon, Tom, my eldest grandchild has got engaged to Ellie in Copenhagen. Hopefully there will be a picture of them both. I never actually thought I would live to see him grown up nor that somewhere in the future I could be a great grandmother. I know my daughter is over the moon at this coming together. They were meant for each other and are so sweet together.
So when they will wed I do not know but their grandfather, who never saw his daughter grown, let alone his grandchildren would perhaps also rejoice.
Well first of all I must make note of the news from Florida and the Milton Storm - bad but not as bad as forecasted. Thank goodness for that. It has been so sad to see the level of devastation left by the first storm Helene and realise that Milton would bring about the same effect. It was watching an American weather forecaster break down in tears as he thought of the strength of the storm and its potential to destroy and kill that made me despair.
But what I learnt as I watched the scenes unfold was the good generosity of people and the state forces coming to organise the rescuing of people and pet animals, the road building machinery rolling in, to know that as always that the human spirit was still as strong as ever.
Apparently those who believe foolish things, the conspiracy theorists, the alternative reality that seems to haunt some brains have been out in force casting doubt and suspicion on the wretched tragedy of lost homes and lives and the help from the state, but they will be halted. I have come to see in a country ridden by one man and his stupidity that there are plenty who are sensible and wise, and all I can say to that is Amen!
I am slightly displaced at the moment, or at least my back is, not sure what happened, was it carrying the shopping back yesterday, or mending my spinning wheel, which is low to the ground.
I am quite proud that I have made my wheel work better. It all started with the string coming off the wheel, and 'The Maiden' coming off the 'Mother of all'. Just had to write that as the naming of parts makes me giggle. A couple of screws lightly tightened and an extra long piece of string so I could easily manipulate it around the wheel. Spinning wheels rely on tension from two points and achieving the balance is not always easy but the wheel has worked its magic all through history.
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The other photo I have collected is of Whitby Abbey's artwork, all apparently done with environmentally friendly pigments. It does of course represent hands holding on to the roots of a tree. It was paid for by The Lottery and the installation land art was made by David Poppa.
The ‘Heritage Tree’ honours the seven inspirational people who have "changed the game across heritage, land and nature” over the last three decades.
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| Tufted Tit-Tyrant |
It is 5.30 this morning and the cat joins in with the music below, which I will listen to throughout the day. Musical art through Stonehenge. There is something of Oscar Wilde in Erland Cooper, a composer from Scotland.
'Carve the Rune then be content with Silence' at Stonehenge.
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Also what else have I picked up over the weekend. Well there is this beautiful rock crystal Roman, perfume bottle perhaps? so small, but so intricate found in the Viking era where it was altered. Listen to Dr. Martin Goldberg on this small treasure and look at its design and visualise its journey from Iran to Scotland, to be buried in the Galloway Viking Hoard. To be so tenderly cleaned and analysed, it was also wrapped in a piece of cloth which gives information about weaving. So much evidence, so much work.
And last, but not least, a Grimshaw painting of a nocturnal scene. It captures the moody sadness of Autumn, the dank cold air as night approaches. The soul becomes sad on days like this.
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| John Atkinson Grimshaw - Twilight |
It is Sunday, the supposedly most peaceful day of the week. It is a time for going to church, though apparently as a country there are more atheists than Christians. So peaceful memories. Wharram Percy DMV (Deserted Medieval Villages). The most famous in England. Nestled in the Yorkshire landscape far away from today's modern roads. It is also the most studied DMV. (Beresford and Hurst).
The day we went the sun shone and the air was quiet and tranquil. It was a place I had always wanted to visit but too far away in East Yorkshire. All that remains is a restored farm house - thank English Heritage for that - and a ruined church. The village itself was up on the plateau above the farmhouse. It was a typical medieval 'toft and croft' you can see in the picture below the houses fronting the roadway and then the long crofts behind for growing their vegetables and keeping their animals.
There are traces all over England of the great common fields that the people farmed, strips of narrow long fields, in which ploughing and harrowing was a communal activity. The faint signs of Ridge and furrow can still be seen from the train carriage as you travel through the Midlands to the North.
As an archaeological site it was studied over many years
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| Warram Percy Deserted Medieval Village |
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| South Manor |
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| House site |
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| The walk back along the narrow pathway and through the fields. |
After 100 days of mistakes, we need to hear Labour’s underlying philosophy Will Hutton
Jonathon Friedland's moving and astute article on that terrible day
I wasn't going to write today but something popped up after a discussion. Really to do with our changing viewing habits. I am not a great television watcher but like to watch the older dramas featured on the BBC and ITVX.
I have just been watching Kate Jackson's (Last Homely House) tour round Heddon Hall's dahlia plants, though no chrysanthemums. I just love these two species the chrysanthemums reminds me of childhood, their great mops of head in the cool colours of Autumn and that faraway smell. The dahlias on the other hand have so much more colour and difference, from the single petalled to the quilled or pom-pom.
Well I pay for Kate's special videos, and a couple of others. I also pay the TV licence though my daughter pays one for the house so I really don't need to. She thinks I am silly to do this but the radio has been a companion all through my life, I feel that I am supporting this institution and should the Conservatives moan for privatisation - sod that.
But there is another world out there, podcasts for a start, people chattering away in a polite and courteous way to the camera on their computers. The young less polite but zealous in their fury as to the likes of Trump for instance.
You have to find the middle road, for instance also listened to Rory Stewart and Alistair Campbell this morning discussing Argentina's new person in charge and then the Israel/Lebanon wretched news and where it all might lead.
I have thought that should I have been caught up in any war then I would be a pacifist and go to jail for my belief that killing others is an unconscionable act, and yes, I do know the counter arguments.
Off again of what I was thinking.....
What we discussed last night was the pay wall, that is starting to appear more and more. At first it starts with a coffee and then goes on to a monthly donation. Some people even put their Amazon wish list on as well. And sometimes they get what they have asked for. A drone for instance to the two young people who are living a 'self-sufficient' life on a Scottish Island. Brave young faces set out to that mythical land where you can grown all you need and be self-sufficient but it never quite pans out as they drive off down to the nearest supermarket. But I suppose it is an experience ;)
And who is the Bishop of Llandaff? a dahlia I have never owned but would have liked to, it has dark beautiful leaves topped by a fiery red flower.
Well my daughter returned yesterday and brought me up to date of their wanderings round the towns. First of all, Andrew rented another car, but again he was given an expensive model for the price of an ordinary car. This time he got a blue Alfa Romero (penis extension car for men according to my daughter). She wasn't terribly impressed because everyone kept looking at them.
Now the 'Wrinkled Stocking' cafe at Holmfirth was explained it was where 'Last of the Summer wine' was made. A long series that seemed to go on for ever but it started in 1973 and finished in 2010. It is crude, funny and over the top and there is a short video of Nora and Compo down below. The wrinkled stockings of course belonged to Nora, heavy weight ugly lisle I think.
They also went to Newcastle and drove round, when I asked did they see any rabbits on the traffic islands my daughter looked at me askance. But yes it is true several years ago when I went with Tom and Karen's ex-husband to see the university at Newcastle there were definitely little bunny rabbits hiding in the bushes as the cars whizzed round them. I came a cropper at the entrance to the university, tripping over the pavement edge but it was more of a bruised ego than a bruised knee.
Tom of course did not choose this university, which was lovely, but went up to London to study like the rest of the grandchildren. Newcastle is renowned for its bridges.
She brought me back some Bakewell tart they also visited this town as well, whether it was from Bakewell I do not know, but it was rather lumpy and did not have the exact measure (which I like) of jam underneath the ground almond level. Somehow the stodginess of yorkshire pudding (not that one, the edible one) and Bakewell tart can only be found up North.
The other place they went to was Huddersfield, why I don't know but apparently it is not a bad place. I just can't stand the word Huddersfield, always invokes in my mind the blackened grey of the municipal buildings that are such a feature of these Northern towns, they shout superiority at you reminding you of Victorian charity to the poor.
"Psychogeography is the exploration of urban environments that emphasizes interpersonal connections to places and arbitrary routes. It was developed by members of the Letterist International and Situationist International, which were revolutionary groups influenced by Marxist and anarchist theory as well as the attitudes and methods of Dadaists and Surrealists" Wiki interpretation.
Debby said something in comments yesterday about having to go and look words up and it struck me was my vague notion of the above word right? I know this site,' The Smell of Water' well (I love his photos of the North) and have often looked at his photos of urban spaces and the particular and understood him from my own limited well of knowledge. When of course I go to look up the word I find it further defined into other eccentric groups and of course since these groups made in the 1950s universities have since moved on can psychography still be valid. Its value as a word questioned but has it evolved, does it sit behind teachings of various subjects, for instance, archaeology.
I have by definition moved it out into the wider landscapes, here John Billingsley's talks are occasionally about 'The Coffin Paths' when in olden days the trip from the deceased's house would often follow a paved path across the moors to the church burial. These pathways had an air of mysticism in the present sense.
Archaeologist have also created new pathways of thought patterns, subjectively titling them under such terms as Post Processual. So that they can analysis evidence. I see Christopher Tilley is one of its leaders in this country, and I actually like him ;) But really my gut response to all this fancy labelling, is these people are just trying to dazzle us with their cleverness.
Geoffrey Wainwright and I think Darvill, both men of eminent positions in the archaeological world once did an experiment of acoustics with the stones in the Presceli Hills. It seems to have disappeared off the net but it was very interesting.
So I pick my reading carefully but delight in the 'otherness' of interpretation, doesn't mean I believe it but like that multi facaded silver ball that twinkles and shines on the dance floor, that is how I see the information that falls from the sky and you have to admit Psychography has very worthy ancestral roots;)
This and That 2014
They did things a little differently in Pictland
Psychogeography or the Smell of Water has been on his wanderings again. And come back with these marvellous Hogbank stones from 'Up North' as you might say. Early medieval with a strong touch of the Scandinavian influence. If you peruse his blogs he has also been to the Kilmartin Glen, somewhere I shall probably never go to but am glad others do it for me!
I wrote about the Hogbacks at Lythe Church here. Which is just outside Sandsend, which in turn is but a couple of miles from Whitby. These early medieval coffin stones tell us of a settled community down by the sea. The raiders had become part of the landscape.
The Monymusk Reliquary
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| Wayland Smithy long barrow |
Quietly Content; I am old but still with it - plus one;) Do I ache? well my knees tell me something as I swing them out of bed in the morning but that soon disappears. I have my family around me; - plus 2 but I would be fairly happy to live on my own, with the present state of my body unimpaired.
So yesterday was a day in which being alone excelled. First I baked bread, then I made the German potato cakes I love, alongside apple puree which compliments them. Cleared the kitchen table, and laid out my latest quilt, checking the three layers. There are two ways to attach the three together, one is just laying them one on top of the other, stitching the sides together and then binding them round the edges. Quilting afterwards, the second way is to put the three layers together, one inside out. Sew up the three sides and then turn the bottom layer over to its right side. And yes that last has seen a few failures, my spatial awareness as always 'up the creek'.
My mind is always busy as are my fingers, knitting a jumper whilst listening to an audio book. I also ordered some tops for spinning, there is a huge choice out there in the dyed world. So many creative people, young and old.
Someone said on a forum when another young person wrote asking if there were any jobs around. She said something that startled me, why don't you start your own business, how many have thought that when looking around for a job.
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| George Harrison of course |
My interest in gardening was also given a spark this morning. Did you know George Harrison was a gardener, in his youth he bought a huge run down Victorian House with about 30 acres of land, some of which was a terribly over run garden. This place was called Friar Park near the town of Henley. This house had been brought by a Sir Frank Crisp in the late nineteenth century, a wealthy lawyer and the gardens had been developed with a huge rockery.
Rockeries are a thing of the past, they were built to emulate the high mountains slopes of say Switzerland, and many an Alpine plant has died a sad death in an English garden. But those thrusting Victorians as the botanists sailed round the world capturing new and exotic plants, never let much stand in their way.
Crisp built an enormous rockery, tumbling waterfalls no less and at the top a representation of the Matterhorn mountain. Imagination is what we lack in today's world, the rich in this country fleeing our shores and taking their ill gotten gains abroad where there is less taxing 😎 bless them!
I'm off track as usual. To return to gardens, George and his wife Olivia restored this slightly crumbling mansion and its garden over the following years. George had introduced a couple of goats to eat the wilderness away but of course not only did the goats eat the bad stuff they also ate the good stuff as well. So there is no record of what Crisp planted. But it has been brought back to its own glory.
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| Patthana Gardens |
I love gardens but the garden I have been following on F/B belongs to someone in Ireland called Maher, they are the Patthana gardens. The use of colour and then the soft shadings of gray and that soft yellow of grasses so beloved of this time of year. His partner is the photographer and obviously captures the gardens in their 'golden hour', morning or evening.
So listen to Hare Krishna and remember when the world was in a slightly more innocent phase or at least was not bedevilled by social media.
