Inside Outside

Last weekend we decided that we just had to leave the city behind and venture into Derbyshire. We set out early and by 10a.m. we were inside Outside drinking a steaming mug of coffee.

Outside Outside ............... Inside Outside

Just up the road from Outside are the villages of Stoney Middleton and Eyam, both stomping grounds of some of P’s ancestors. We had visited them both before but decided to have a wander around Eyam again. As we parked in the car park near the museum the men building a huge bonfire in the adjacent field warned us that the car park would close early because of the fireworks event, there were many people who couldn’t park because quite a bit of the car park was fenced off. We set off down into the village passing the plague cottages on our way to the church. P wanted to photograph several gravestones he had seen on a previous visit so he could feature them in the latest newsletter for his one name study site.

Eyam Church

All the names I recognized from the various census returns were there in the churchyard. Our name yielded quite a few stones but the most prolific families during the 19th century in Eyam were the Cocker, Daniel and Furness families, and many of them lay here in their last resting place. It was very cold in the churchyard so we wandered back via the craft centre at Eyam Hall.

Eyam Hall

Then we drove over to the David Mellor Factory at Hathersage and indulged ourselves looking at all the gorgeous things in the shop and musuem.

The Round Building

Colours

The sky this evening
Basil in my kitchen window
Afternoon Walk

Weird Creatures

Well, we've had some weird and wonderful creatures knocking at the door this evening. Wizards, witches, ghosts, fairies and a couple of skeletons - one with a hatchet in his head. All carrying little bags or buckets in which to collect their treats. Eager little faces - some painted with black noses or large whiskers - beaming under the street lights, waiting to see what they would receive.

I decided this year not to give sweets so I got a couple of punnets of baby clementines from the supermarket, thinking that their colour was rather festive. They seemed to be acceptable, especially to the parents hovering anxiously a few yards down the drive.

My next job is to go and find the cats and coax them out of their hiding places now all the knocking on the front door has ceased and things, well apart from the odd firework hissing and banging in the backgound, are back to normal.

Sometimes I despair of humanity

My neigbour’s mother is 84. A few days ago she went into town to do a bit of shopping. As she came out of a shop she let the door close behind her but to her astonishment a man opened the door and shouted at her down the street that she had let the door swing back into his child’s buggy. She tried to explain that she wasn’t aware of anyone behind her but he continued to yell at her. Things like ‘stupid old bag’ and far worse. She was very shaken and upset by his manner as she really didn’t know he’d been behind her. The last words he yelled at her as he followed her in the shopping centre were ‘Well, you’ll be dead soon anyway.’ *

Why are some people so vicious and nasty? Why do they have this antagonism and arrogance towards other people whom they feel are in their way, or who are vulnerable? What happened to patience, tolerance and understanding? If you have any amount of intelligence you know when something is an accident or when it is deliberate. I can only guess that some people react that way towards older people because they are afraid of getting old themselves. As indeed, that man will be old one day and so will the child in the buggy. I just hope no one treats either of them the way he treated my neighbour’s mother.

* I think if I’d got a child in a buggy, I’d be more careful around swinging doors and I certainly wouldn’t spend time yelling after someone, I’d be more concerned that my child wasn’t hurt in any way.

Uncertainty

Over the last couple of days two things have happened that have left me feeling sad and for some reason, slightly insecure.

On Wednesday a very dear friend phoned to say that his mother had died that morning, just woken up, told her husband she felt ill and died before the ambulance arrived. She was a lovely lady, we’d met her a few times, even, some years ago, had a holiday in her flat on the south coast, and now she’s gone.

Last night, another friend telephoned to tell me she has been diagnosed with macular degenerative disease of the eye; which probably means she will eventually lose her sight. She’s elderly and lives alone and her main comforts apart from music are reading, writing loads of letters and watching TV. How on earth will she cope?

Earlier this year another friend rang to say she had been diagnosed with the early stages of breast cancer, she has now undergone treatment and all is well, as somehow deep down inside, I knew they would be, but the worry for her was always there.

I think these things, which wonderfully brave people have to cope with every day make you feel your own fragility and make you slightly uneasy for your own future. As you get older you start to worry about these things. Today I feel really old.

Just an ordinary day

This is what I entered into the 'One Day in History' mass blog event:-

I’m up by 7.30a.m. As I draw the bedroom curtains I can’t see down to the bottom of the street for the damp & dismal fog. My first task is to rush downstairs to feed the cats and open up the cat flap. Breakfast is eaten whilst listening to and half watching the BBC news programme, then I rush around the house tidying up, washing breakfast pots and getting ready to go out. I set out about 9.30a.m.to walk down to the Post Office. I always try and walk rather than catching the bus as it is my way of getting exercise. I have to post a letter to my friend in Lincolnshire and to buy some more stamps. Most of my friends have the internet and we communicate by e-mail, except for birthdays and Christmas when traditional cards are sent through the post. The fog has lifted a little but as I walk through the recreation ground I pass a man walking his dog; he smiles ruefully at me and declares ‘Rum weather’. I nod my head and smile in agreement. The topic of conversation in the queue at the post office counter is, of course, the weather. Why are we never happy unless we are complaining about the weather? Still, it gets us all talking to each other, I suppose.

Next stop is my local supermarket for a little food shopping. I have to use the cash machine first and of course, there is another queue, no talk of the weather here though, just anxious hurried faces willing people to press the buttons a bit more quickly than they are doing. I finally get my money, after the machine has asked me various questions about my requirements. No I don’t need to ‘top-up’ my mobile phone today, thank you. I grab a trolley and set off towards the aisles where I know I can quickly pick up what I want, but no, I can’t, I have to go off on a hunt for lettuce and tomatoes because they have been moved – again. I never did find the coleslaw.

Back home I put away my shopping, drink coffee, read the newspaper headlines and then pop next door to see if my neighbours are ok – they recently had to have one of their cats put to sleep and are still upset about it. This afternoon I have various tasks to do on the computer. I’m in the middle of proof reading a booklet I’m doing for a friend but I’m distracted by an e-mail from a distant relative I have been in touch with over our family history - we share great grandparents. He found me through my web site and we have done quite a lot of detective work to find out where our great grandmother was buried, a story of accidents, widowhood, re-marriage and family disapproval has emerged. It’s too long and personal a story for here but it’s so good to have solved a mystery. Anyway, he has sent me a couple of photographs of the house our ancestors lived in, so, of course I have to thank him and download them and then print them. I think the word I’m searching for is procrastination.

The worker will soon return from his teaching job in a college so I start to think about an evening meal. Oatcakes filled with cheese, tomatoes and mushrooms with a side salad and mango chopped into mango yoghurt, not very interesting but the best I can do for now. I also manage to bake an apricot madeira cake, ready for tomorrow. Cats are fed again and then we eat and chat, watch the news and generally mull over the days events before the washing up is done, the curtains are drawn against the darkening sky and he disappears upstairs to the study with marking and lesson planning and I sit with the cats watching the television before deciding I'd much rather read and listen to some music.

One Day in History

Well, I'm going to do this today. Are you?

A Day at the Quays

On Saturday we drove up to Altrincham, parked the car and caught the metrolink tram to Salford Quays. Our first stop was The Lowry where we sat in the foyer drinking a much needed cup of coffee whilst gazing out of the huge windows onto the world outside and at the same time, observing the comings and goings inside. The architecture was stunning and at the same time welcoming. After coffee we went up the escalators to the exhibition area and wandered around the Lowry galleries, the ‘Our House’ and ‘Worktown’ exhibitions and watched the film on Lowry’s life. I couldn’t resist a small purchase in the shop as I found a postcard and pin broach of one of my favourite Lowry paintings called ‘Gentleman Looking at Something’.




We then wandered over the bridge and down to the Imperial War Museum North. Here again I found myself gazing upwards at the actual structure of the building as I wandered around the exhibitions. There is so much to see here that we were ages. P was particularly fascinated with the suspended Harrier jump jet and the T34 Russian tank. We decided to have lunch in the museum but after finding the café and deciding it was just too noisy we left but not before we climbed up the 166 steps to the viewing platform where we could see the Lowry in its full glory across the canal and in the distance the Old Trafford football ground. We found lunch in the Lowry shopping centre and then wandered back along the quayside paths to the metrolink, where there were lots of football supporters from both teams making their way up to Old Trafford. In no time at all we were headed back towards Altrincham where we picked up the car and drove home.

October = Autumn

Suddenly, last weekend, we became aware that summer was finally over and that Autumn was really here:-

Jane Again

I was in two minds whether to watch yet another adaptation of Jane Eyre last night. But, having walked around the whole of Trentham lake yesterday afternoon and lulled by a tasty evening meal and a lovely hot bath I snuggled down to watch.

I have great attachments to the book having studied it at school for GCE (as they were then) and because after that my education went down the unconventional route of A levels at night school and a degree with the Open University I found myself studying the book three times. So you might say that I know the work inside out, back to front and upside down.

I did find that they ‘hurried’ the early childhood stages along just a little too quickly and anyone not knowing the story could have been slightly confused, especially the Helen Burns friendship and her influence on Jane, but apart from that it was ravishing. Not having to concentrate on the plot I found myself gazing in awe at the familiar scenery and settings in the background. Places I have been familiar with for most of my life. Bolsover Castle, the setting for Lowood School, was just 3 miles from the village I lived in for many years. Ilam Church is just half an hour away by car from where we live now, and what can you say about Haddon Hall, the setting for Thornfield? I have happy memories of the twice I have visited it and we often pass it by on our way to Rowsley to buy flour at the mill. I feel another visit coming on but I guess it may have to be next season.

Wollerton Old Hall Garden

Last week we visited one of my favourite local gardens. We sat outside in the afternoon sun taking in the hot, lush, late summer colours.

Spit the Cat

Well, I think Spit may have used up quite a few of her nine lives, mostly in the last few months but hopefully she has one or two left yet.

When she first appeared in my neighbours' garden she would hide under the hedge and hiss and spit at anything that moved - hence her name - including my neighbours' cats and dogs, our cats, other people’s cats and the foxes that visit at dusk. Each evening they left food out for her until she eventually started to come to ask for it and then, when last winter was at its coldest she started to go into the house; after a while, she stayed.

Earlier this year they noticed that she had something wrong with her eye. Several trips were made to the vet but it gradually got worse and the swelling bigger. In early summer she had and operation to remove the growth from her eye which entailed removing the eye as well. Prognosis was fair but the growth had been malignant and the vet couldn’t tell whether or not the tumour had spread.

Spit was fine all summer and she seemed to be recovering well until this weekend when she began to act strangely and hide in unusual places and start back from food; although she wanted to eat and drink she couldn’t. My neighbours began to fear the worst, that the tumour had spread; but yesterday after a visit to the vet all seemed to be revealed. Apparently she has an infection in her throat and gums and needs teeth removing. Whilst she has this treatment they will also check the roof of her mouth and take blood tests but it seems, thank goodness, that little Spit will live to fight another day.

How Time Flies

Just realised that it's ages since I posted on here. Since the last entry, I've had a birthday and also managed to get back into Wales for the annual 'get-together' with former colleagues, now friends, from the Museum we all used to work at. This should have taken place in April but P's son had to go into hospital. We had a lovely time because we always stay at Maesyfed B&B which also has a Victorian Shop Museum and an arts and crafts gallery.

For my birthday I had flowers, perfume, a book '1599 - A Year in the Life of William Shakespeare' by James Shapiro, a CD - American Idiot by Green Day and a key cabinet in the shape of a three story house which is the exact same colour as the kitchen walls and looks as if it has always been there. I don't know what this assortment of items says about either me or my friends and family - but I'm enjoying them all.

Just had a long power cut which left washing sloshing about in rather grey soapy water in the machine for ages now have to go to the vets with my next door neighbour - and her cat, Spit - (long story), I'm very afraid it may be bad news, so I think she needs some support. I need to go and cuddle my cats first.

The Curious Incident of the Mole on the Beach

How on earth does a mole get on a beach? I’ve never heard of this phenomenon before and yet, that is what we saw. A black velvety mole with large pink paws scurrying blindly along at the side of the cliff face in a sort of scuffed out runnel. No time to set up the camera, we must have announced our presence long before we realised it was there; just the chance for a couple of quick sightings as it disappeared behind soft sand and then into a curious, crumbling, sand filled hole. We waited silently for a short while but it did not return to take the sea air.

As we wandered back along Nefyn beach towards the strange huts on stilts and the pale yellow painted ice cream parlour we could only surmise how the poor mole had ended up there. A landslide of earth from the cliff top perhaps? If so, how did it survive such a fall? How long had it been there? Would it survive? What did it eat? Was it the only one? Who knows? Some people may add who cares? Strangely, somehow I do care.

The Joy of Popping Balsam

This year the Himalayan Balsam, which grows at the side of the Cauldon Canal, seems to be taller and more prolific than ever. I’m assuming that this is because of the very hot weather we had last month. This plant is not native to this country and although it looks wonderful at the side of the canal it is a problem because it will eventually wipe out other native plants that grow there and, because it dies back completely in the winter, can cause erosion of the canal banks.


It does have one redeeming feature though. At this time of year the seed pods are full of seeds and if you so much as touch one they burst forth with such power as to make you jump even though you expect the force of it. Popping these seed pods gives even more enjoyment than popping bubble wrap.

Unbelievable

I was sitting in the car at Sainsbury’s petrol station in Hanley whilst P was putting petrol in, whiling away the time watching other people, as you do. No? Just me then. Anyway, this man, fortyish, shorts, t-shirt, cap from under which sprouted bleached blond hair, had filled up his car and was wandering over to the payment kiosk. He stopped near the dispenser for the local newspaper - The Sentinel - (well you may want to know the fine details), he opened the dispenser, took out a paper, closed the dispenser, placed the paper on the lid and flicked through a few pages. Then he wandered into the kiosk, both cashiers were free, looked around the walls and the displays, eventually picked up a chocolate bar (sorry, I wasn’t close enough to read which kind) then finally went up to the cash desk to pay. As P was being served at the second till, the man took a phone call, chatted for a few moments, then moved outside to talk on the phone. This call over he proceeded to dial another number. In the meantime other people were beginning to go into the kiosk to pay for their petrol. P, when he came back to the car, confirmed that the man had walked away from the cashier, left his newspaper, sweets and bank card on the counter, left a half completed transaction so that no one else could use that till and a growng queue for the remaining cashier to cope with.

Many words and phrases spring to mind which I won’t use here, but suffice to say what an incredibly, rude, thoughtless, selfish and stupid person I thought he was.

Memories

Just a few photos from last week's holiday -


St Davids Cathedral ............ Fishguard Harbour


Castell Henllys ................. Dinas Head

Dunlin on NewportBeach ,,,,,,,..,,,,,,, Pentre Ifans

Traveller Returns

We've just returned home from a wonderful holiday in Pembrokeshire. We had a lovely cottage up in the Preseli Hills, where buzzards whirled above fields of sheep grazing by ancient standing stones. We were about four miles from Newport with its lovely sweeping beaches and curving coastal paths. My mind is still full of the impressions of the places we have seen, little rocky bays occupied only by sea birds, vast sweeping beaches, ancient burial chambers, replica iron age houses, harbours and jetties with little boats bobbing up and down on the blue ocean, red and white ferries bound for Rosslare. Tudor Houses, Castles, Museums and the gloriously beautiful cathedral at St Davids.


On our way back we stopped off at Bristol. Our second floor room at the Holiday Express was overwhelmingly hot and felt oppressive after being able to sit out late at night at the cottage. We spent a whole day in the centre where there was a harbour festival taking place. Brunel's SS Great Britain took a whole morning to explore, then we made for the Museums and the cathedral. Next morning before leaving for home we walked around Clifton Village and over Brunel's suspension bridge.

So many happy memories. I'm sure there will be photos later.

Hot Hot Hot

It's really too hot to be writing this. We have just spent the day picking black-currants and gooseberries from the garden. If we leave them any longer they will just rot on the bushes but of course we now have to make jam and cordial and that means heat in the kitchen.

The thermometer on the car hit 32 degrees yesterday as we drove back from Alderley Edge so last night we sat in the garden until very late and watched the bats flitting around the trees, the cats were mooching around the garden until late too. When I came downstairs at just after 3a.m. one of them was still out. I just couldn't sleep in the heat so tossed and turned for another couple of hours and then got up just in time to catch one of the cats who had a frog cornered on the patio. P managed to catch the frog and put in on a lily leaf in the pond, it was shocked but soon shot off to safety.

Here are a few pics taken around the garden.

Three Puzzling Things

There are three things puzzling me. You can no doubt tell I haven’t got anything of great importance to distract me at the moment and in the wide scheme of things they are, in fact, probably totally trivial but I have to ask:-


1) Why do people walk down the middle of the road when there are perfectly good pavements on either side?

2) Why do people (when they are actually using the pavement) charge up behind you, desperate to overtake, then pass you, only to turn straight in front of you so that they can go into a shop?

3) Why do people not drop into single file anymore on narrow paths and pavements?


Just don’t get me started on the selfish, dirty people who think it is ok to drop litter.

Apart from that – it’s a wonderful day.

Saturday in Shrewsbury

The orange walls and bright blue pillars of the coffee bar seemed cool and inviting as we entered. Sipping our coffee and admiring the pictures on the walls we planned our day. As we didn’t particularly want to look around the shops we decided to wander down to the riverside and walk along the pathway leading to the park. We meandered up past the castle, down St Mary’s Street and into Dogpole, pausing occasionally to gaze in shop windows, and along Wyle Cop to the English Bridge. We turned right before the bridge on to Marine Terrace and down onto the riverside path.


There were quite a few others either walking or cycling, the pit- pat of tennis balls could be heard from the tennis courts and members of the rowing club were getting ready to row along the river. The sound of their excited, nervous chatter drifting over from the opposite bank. Once in the park we wandered up to the Dingle and then across to St Chad’s Church, which by this time was looking cool, classical and inviting.



As we approached the entrance I could hear music. We poked our heads around the door and the ladies on duty beckoned us to enter. We tiptoed into the circular nave and slipped into pews at the back in order to watch the orchestra rehearsing for that night’s performance of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. All the instruments being used were of the period so there was much stopping and starting for the woodwind to ‘empty’ their instruments. The conductor was fascinating to watch as he chatted, shouted, cajoled and praised the ensemble into a wonderful performance. I guess the singers were to rehearse later in the day. Whoever had tickets for that evening was in for a treat.


Back in the town we picked up sandwiches and drinks from M&S and headed out to have a picnic and a wander around the cool, quiet ruins of Haughmond Abbey.

Time to Remember

I can’t believe it is 10 days since my last entry. Time passes by very swiftly and to quote John Simpson in ‘The 5-minute Interview’ in today’s Independent (couldn’t get a Guardian, grr) - “Life is appallingly short and we mustn’t waste time on pointless, stupid things.”

This got me to thinking about tomorrow’s date July 1st, a day when, in 1916, time stopped forever for thousands of young men as they perished in No Man’s Land on the first day of the battle of the Somme. 19,240 were killed and 35,493 wounded and that was just our side. My heart goes out to those who gave their lives on both sides as this terrible, pointless and wasteful carnage was to carry on until 17th November of the same year.

So on Saturday 1st July 2006, take time to remember, just for a minute, the events of Saturday 1st July 1916. When you are out shopping, laughing with your family, watching football or tennis or just sitting in the sunshine in your garden, be glad of your freedom and just say a quiet thankyou.

“When you go home,
tell them of me and say,
For your tomorrow,
I gave my today.”
John Maxwell Edmonds (1875 -1958)

Why?

I'm used to getting lots of letters in the post containing pens; there is a huge collection of them by the telephone. I even used to get them with a few bronze coins inside. Today I had an envelope containing a white plastic tooth brush, it is there, lurking in the see-through address bit of the envelope - I haven't opened it yet. What am I supposed to do with it? I suppose it is there to prove a point about something dreadful somewhere in the world rather than for me to use it, I can only use a sensodyne toothbrush* anyway, any other would rip my gums to shreds, so it will probably go into the cleaning bucket to scrub those little corners that are hard to reach.

I just know when I do eventually get round to opening it, that it will be a desperate appeal for funds from some charity or other and I know I will feel guilty for ignoring it but I can't give to everything. I have my favourite charities** and I give when I can, but this is emotional blackmail apart from the fact that the money could have been put to better use than spending on toothbrushes.

I just sit here thinking, Why?

* I suppose some people would say I'm lucky to be able to have the choice and indeed I am.
** Shelter, Salvation Army***, Missing Persons Helpline, Womensaid and the PDSA .
*** not because of any religious beliefs, more for the good work they do with the homeless and missing persons. They also, many years ago, brought their band on to the front lawn of my granny's house and played for her as she lay, dying, on her bed near the window, it brought her great joy.

A Squirrel Day

We went up to Ainsdale Sands on Saturday. Every year P takes a couple of coach loads of students up to the sand dunes for field work and he wanted to make a video of the dunes and wildlife therein for the preparation work before the visit.

It was a lovely day and as we drove along the clean, flat beach the wide expanse of it reminded me of the beaches in France near Mont St Michel where they stretch out forever into the distance and where they tend to have their garlic festivals, complete with jazz bands and Elvis impersonators, on the sand. We wandered around the dunes filming and taking photos and generally saying good morning to ramblers, dog walkers and joggers. Then we walked on the sand banks down towards the sea.


After we’d popped into the visitor centre we drove over to the National Trust Red Squirrel Sanctuary at Formby. We ate our picnic lunch and then wandered under the cool of the trees and were rewarded by a pair of squirrels who after attracting our attention by ‘chittering’ proceeded to run up and down the trees, jump over logs and chase each other, all the time venturing closer and closer to us until they were just a few feet away, looking at us with their curious little button eyes. I was completely captivated by them.


I do remember seeing Red Squirrels as a child on holiday in the New Forest and in Cornwall but I hadn’t seen any for ages, they are so much smaller than the greys with their wispy summer tails, a rare treat.

On Top of the World

Just some of today’s highlights:-

Field after field of golden buttercups as we travelled up towards Hope and Castleton.



Breakfast at the Nag’s Head followed by sitting at the top of the world, well Peveril Castle anyway, with the town of Castleton spread out below and behind it, the stark beauty of Mam Tor.







A late lunch in Edale churchyard with no one but some Pursglove ancestors to keep us company.





The cool and quiet air inside Tideswell church where we just had to visit to see Bishop Robert Pursglove’s rather splendid brass again.



I just wasn't quick enough to photograph the handsome hare that ran across the road just in front of us on the way home, luckily there was no one behind us so we could slow down to let him pass.

Elderflowers

As I walked into town this morning via the old St John’s churchyard my senses became aware of the heady pungent smell of elderflowers. They were in full bloom around the vicarage and although my view, as I walked was that of the railway line with the large buildings of Next and Argos looming behind, my mind wandered back to my childhood. The elderflower has such an evocative smell, not entirely pleasant but rich and earthy. It took me back to the small village I grew up in where in the spring and summer we would be taken on nature rambles by the teachers along the lanes down to the brook, through the woods by the sheep dip and back again to the school. In spring we would come back with specimens of flowers and leaves for the nature table, things like cowslips, violets, primroses and daffodils. Also small branches of pussy willow, catkins and sticky buds. These would be put in water, in jam jars and labeled in nice neat handwriting and displayed on the table. In the early summer we would collect bluebells, dog daisies and lilac and later still red poppies. We would spot birds and butterflies and I seem to remember we always had a little tank with tadpoles collected in jam jars from the brook along with sticklebacks and minnows to create our own little pond in the classroom.

As I stood in the queue at Tesco, I felt somehow distanced from the crowds struggling with their bangers, burgers and beers for the weekend’s festivities as I was once again in Scarcliffe woods in the soft shade, under the trees near the derelict gamekeeper’s cottage enchanted by the sights, sounds and smells of summer.

After Richard

Still discussing the previous night’s performance of Richard III on Saturday we drove across country via Ipstones and Longnor to Buxton. We parked easily up on the park, near the war memorial and wandered down into town. After a meander round the shops and a coffee we went into the Pavilion to look at the Family History Fair. I was hoping that the Birmingham and Midlands lot would be there but no joy so my Hodgetts from 1841 backwards still remain a mystery. I’ve done all I can on Ancestry so have now to look at parish records which in turn means braving New Street Station to get to the archives and I’m not a great fan of New Street Station. We spoke to quite a few people on the many stalls on offer and generally enjoyed ourselves.

On Sunday we took a break from tiling the hallway floor to pop up into Hanley to watch the aircraft of the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight fly over the Potteries Museum where a new statue of local hero Reginald Mitchell designer of the Spitfire had been unveiled. We stood opposite the museum in what used to be the burial ground of the Bethesda Chapel, now a lovely landscaped garden. There were loads of people milling around and it was great to see representatives of all generations eagerly anticipating the aircraft. A huge ‘whoop’ went up from the crowd as the planes flew proudly and sedately overhead and then a huge wave of applause as they disappeared over the rooftops into the sky beyond.

This morning we got up early and decided to walk around the lake at Trentham before all the crowds got there later today. We saw herons nesting, and the geese and swans were proudly displaying their little ones for our delight. After steaming hot coffee at the lakeside café we drove back home past the queue of cars struggling to find parking spaces in the pouring rain.

'Weer it, enjoy it, and mek mooch of it'

So saith Lord Stanley to Richmond as he handed over the crown plucked from the brow of the dead King Richard on the Battlefield of Bosworth. This can only mean one thing and, yes, indeed, Northern Broadsides are back in town.

As we took our seats* the actors wandered on to the stage and began playing jazz, I’m always amazed by the many talents of the actors who make up this company and was to be even more amazed later on by an additional talent I’d not yet seen. Just before the lights went down I spotted the gangling, ungainly figure in black at the top of the stairs – here was Richard. Played wonderfully well by Conrad Nelson this Richard weaved and cajoled and simpered and struggled his evil way to the throne.** A throne he soon lost on Bosworth Field where White Surrey was replaced by a barrow and the battle was won accompanied by the wild clashing of drums, the swirling of banners and clog dancing. I did wonder why all the soldiers were carrying a spare pair of shoes over their shoulders and at the start of the fight instead of armour they donned clogs and danced their way onto the battlefield, the noise of their feet getting louder and louder as the bitter struggle drew to its inevitable conclusion. After the battle there followed a wonderful choral display as The Earl of Richmond accepted his challenge. I love Northern Broadsides.

*my seat was against the main entrance and exit for the company and right by the ‘butt of malmsey’ so I heard the gurgles and saw the struggles in great detail.

** Of course, as much as I love Shakespeare, as a Yorkist I don’t believe Richard was either as evil or as deformed as Will portrayed him, but if I had lived in Tudor England I think I would have done the same.

A feeling of Disquiet

What a strange week. Well I was right about the rain, I really shouldn’t have taken the garden furniture out of its winter storage. No lawn cutting for a while as the garden is squelching in water again, no drought here then, just a spoilt garden.

When I visited the out patients to get my eye checked out I think that, apart from a couple of young mums with children, I was the youngest there. I was glad to finally get my appointment but I came away feeling quite low in spirits, I should, of course, be happy that I’ve not got any serious problems and that there are so many people far worse off than me, but seeing so many elderly people struggling to see and walk made me fear for the future.

I’ve been saddened also by a strange thing happening to one of my favourite web sites. I’ve been a member on this site since October 2003, not a very active member admittedly but I’ve visited it almost daily and enjoyed its ups and downs, but this week a temporary forum attached to the main site has gone absolutely berserk with people really being nasty to each other. I guess people are upset because things seem to be in limbo at the moment but it really has gone too far with only one person speaking any sense. I think once I know what is happening, and get the answer to one outstanding question I won’t bother again.

Off to Wales next week for our annual reunion staying at Maesyfed as usual. Hope to shake off some of the troubles and disquiet I feel from all the above and enjoy being with friends who care about each other.

Drifting

Can’t believe it’s a week since I last wrote anything for here. The last few days have gone by in a daze of lawn cutting, gardening, cooking, sorting things for the charity shop and trying and failing to get interested in anything positive and/ or doing anything positive, except, looking after my little cat who on Tuesday had to have six teeth extracted by the vet. She’s coping very well which is more than I am. Next week have my eye appointment – dreading this as I can’t cope with anything in or near my eyes, the day after I have the fasting blood tests. Then I must start to think about the annual ‘get-together’ in Penybont, week after next. This warm weather has induced that late summer laziness of body and mind usually gained from too many hours in the sun lounger but these haven’t even seen the light of day yet. I did get out the plastic table and chairs though and give then a good wash down. A sure sign that it will rain from now on.

One Reason to be Cheerful

Yeh! Thank goodness, my vote did count. I was fully expecting to wake up this morning to the devastating news that the BNP had won another seat in our ward, but joy of joys – labour held on to Longton North. I’d rather even have Conservatives than BNP and you will realize how strong a feeling that is when I tell you that I was brought up in a village not two miles from what used to be called in the grim eighties ‘the people’s republic of Bolsover’ so I was nurtured in ‘old’ style labour politics. Even though Labour lost overall power in Stoke I’m so relieved not be totally ashamed of the area I’m living in.

Dithering

We’ve been having a ‘clear out’ or ‘de-cluttering’ of junk accumulated over the years. I’ve been quite good at letting go of things* but I’m beginning to get to the real nitty-gritty now and have been dithering over a couple of things for the past week.

Bag one contained the photos, information panels and research notes from an exhibition I put together for our then local library to celebrate the Quincentenary of the Battle of Bosworth Field in August 1985. As I look at the mounted photographs of various Plantagenets and Tudors (all postcards from the National Portrait Gallery) and the ones we took ourselves of various Ricardian places, like Middleham, York and Leicester I have happy memories of putting the exhibition together and of struggling to type the information panels on my IBM ‘golf ball’ typewriter. This was a huge, noisy beast but I loved it because it had a golf ball with a script font which looked completely right with the photographs. I remember the opening of the exhibition and the wonderful case of Richard III related books the library put out to enhance the wall panels. I made the final decision – last night the bag went in the wheelie bin.

Bag two contains all Georgette Heyer’s novels in paperback. I began reading these when I was about thirteen years old. I was completely hooked and over the next three or four years I devoured everyone. They have moved with me on countless occasions but their pages have become yellow/brown with age, the paper is thin, brittle and brown spotted. I don’t think a charity shop would take them. So last night I chose my favourite two novels ‘Friday’s Child’ the first one I read and the one that got me hooked and ‘Devil’s Cub’ because as a romantic 15 year old I fell in love with Dominic Vidal. The rest – well, they are now in the wheelie bin.

*Most definitely staying are Belinda bear and Bruin bear, fluff the pink cat, my first Christmas tree (bought when I was 4 months old), all the old family photographs and papers and my copy of a Nottingham Playhouse programme of ‘Hamlet, Prince of Denmark’ signed by Ian Mckellan.

Bank Holiday

The weekend started wonderfully as we made an escape for a couple of hours at lunch on Friday, a walk around the lake at Trentham then lunch at the garden centre café to celebrate our wedding annniversay.

Saturday we headed off to Buxton to shop at Hawkshead’s (20%) off weekend. I now have a lovely soft brown self stripe blouse which fits perfectly. We drove out of Buxton towards Macclesfield to find the Dunge Valley Gardens and had lunch and lovely walk there before setting off towards Macclesfield. We stopped for a while overlooking the Goyt Valley to watch and listen to the curlews nesting in the grassy pastures just beyond the road. I love to hear the strange evocative cry of the curlew and quite a few flying and calling together make for a truly unusual and magical sound.

Sunday we got up really early and drove to the Manifold valley. We walked for a couple of hours past Thor’s cave and on towards Waterhouses. When we got back to Wetton Mill the car park was full but we really enjoyed the coffee and home made cake from the Mill café before we returned home.

Monday was a wet, gloomy day so we stayed at home pottering around. The gloomy day, therefore was a suitable backdrop to the phone call I received in the afternoon. A dear friend of over 30 years standing rang to say that she has been diagnosed with breast cancer. It is very early days and has been caught early so she has to have a lumpectomy (sp?) followed by five weeks of radio therapy and course of tamoxifen (sp?). To say that I was stunned is to put it quite mildly but she is optimistic and positive and therefore so am I that she will come through this by taking one step at a time. Please God.

Too grumpy by far

I seem to be in ‘grumpy old woman’ mode today. Don’t know why because it is lovely outside. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, the newts are basking and the tadpoles wriggling around in the pond, the washing is drying on the line, the lawn is freshly cut and the cats are snoozing in various parts of the garden (one on the seat, one under the heather and one under the gooseberry bushes). Therefore my unease must stem from my walk down into town, not just that but from my visit to the supermarket. Yes, that is where the answer lies. So in my best ‘grumpy’ voice, here we go:- Why do people crowd you at the checkouts? It is very rude. It is usually a couple working a pincer movement on you. She unloads pushing you forward all the time with the trolley in your back, he barges past you and lurks in the window area. When the person being served in front of you, to whom you are giving enough space to carry out their monetary transactions, moves away from the till, you move down to start packing your bags, after about four items have entered your bag the man moves forward and starts to collect and open carrier bags and then stands there watching every item you place in your bag and if you hesitate for a split second over where to place items in your bag, he sort of tuts. You then move back to punch in your pin number but the woman is in the way with the trolley and really resents having to move back an inch or two so you can complete your transaction so she pushes through behind you glowering at you until you move your trolley away. Grr and double Grr – I felt like saying ‘Would you jump in my grave as quick?’ but it seemed rather churlish to do so. Outnumbered you see.

As I walked back home I passed a piece of graffiti on a wall ‘School is crop’ now is this:

a) A new corruption of a word by the young and does it mean something completely different?
b) A mis-spelling of ‘crap’?
c) An inability to form letters correctly?

As I passed the nearby school the little ones were out in the playground cycling around on their bikes. One child said to another ‘Get out of my way, you fool*.’ This saddened me – a very small child with a teenage attitude. I really worry for the future when these kids are not taught to consider other people’s feelings and the fact that some people may not move as quickly or as efficiently as others. This awareness used to come with age but I find increasingly that it doesn’t anymore. Hey, ho, back to the garden.

*The child did use the word 'fool' , a teenager would use something rather more explicit, I think.

And Trim came too

We had an old friend to stay with us over the Easter weekend and yesterday we drove her back to Spalding. On the way we stopped off at the small town of Donington to look at the new statue of one of my heroes, Captain Matthew Flinders. When I worked in the local Museum we had a gallery dedicated to Matthew Flinders and I was privileged to be able to do research at the archives in Lincoln and read quite a few of Flinders’ letters home to his family and fiancée Ann Chapelle. The bronze statue is very attractive but much smaller than I expected and stands at the road side in the market place where his family home stood for many years. Poor Matthew, who is considered a hero in Australia, is little known in his homeland. He died at the age of 40 in 1814 just after publishing his book ‘A Voyage to Terra Australis.’ His cat Trim who sailed with him and also stayed with him during his captivity on the island of Mauritius is depicted at his feet. His grandson was the noted Egyptologist Sir William Matthew Flinders Petrie.

A Corner of the Artist's Room

I was interested to learn that there is a new book available whose plot revolves around one of my all time favourite paintings by my very favourite artist.

I first saw ‘A Corner of the Artist’s Room in Paris’ many years ago at the Graves Art Gallery in Sheffield. I fell in love with its simplicity and its tranquility. It is has a stark masculinity and yet, at the same time, is very feminine. I love the glow of light from the fine netted window which gives the viewer a fleeting glimpse of the outside world. I saw the painting again in 1985 at the Barbican in London as part of the exhibition of Gwen John’s work called ‘Gwen John- An Interior Life’ I still treasure the catalogue I bought then and look through it often.

The room in question is 87 Rue du Chereche-Midi, where Gwen John lived on the top floor from 1907 until 1909. It was during these years she became the model and later the lover of the sculptor Auguste Rodin.

Although the new book doesn’t get a particularly good review, I will still read it. I can’t not, can I?

Hope to Castleton

We set out early today and drove across country through Ipstones, Longnor and Tideswell to Hope. The air was clear as we traveled through the patchwork quilt of fields all lightly touched by a soft sprinkling of snow, the hills in the distance sparkling white in the sun. We arrived in Hope and after parking we crossed the road to have coffee at Woodbine Cottage where we mingled with other sturdy booted, wooly hatted walkers sitting around the warm log fire the air redolent with the smell of coffee and wood smoke. Suitably refreshed we wondered down past the church, over the river and took the public footpath to Castleton. The path was quite muddy in places and the wind almost took our breath away as we gazed at the ruins of Peveril Castle in the distance on the hillside above the town. Each field was dotted with sheep and suckling lambs who gazed nervously at us as we struggled to climb the stiles without slipping and landing in the quagmires below.



Castleton was quiet – quieter than at Christmas – when the town buzzes with folks viewing the lights. We looked in one or two shops and the new heritage centre which was very interesting. We were wondering about the walk up to the castle but just as we stepped outside again the sun disappeared and the rain began to come down. We decided then to go back another time to visit the castle. As we came out of the bookshop the sun came out again so we walked back to Hope and drove home calling into the large bookshop at Brierlow Bar where I couldn’t resist buying a couple of books – ‘Letters from the Fens’ by Edward Storey and ‘The Waves’ by Virginia Woolf – the cost for both just £4.98. I love days like today.

Cork Cutters and Ferrule Makers

I was searching through a box of old photographs and family papers when I found a very old card signed by my great-grandmother. Now this was one line of my family tree that I hadn’t researched as much as the others. It being my father’s mother’s side of the family on her mother’s side – try to work that one out after a glass of sherry. I knew that Sarah Ann or Sally, as she was known, had, according to the 1881 census, come from Birmingham with her brother Robert into Derbyshire, presumably for work, and from the parish records that they had both married and stayed there. I knew their father’s name was also Robert (deceased at the time of their marriages in 1875.) My sister who has a subscription to Ancestry was able to find the family for me on the 1851, 1861 and 1871 census returns and how fascinating and moving it turned out to be.

In 1861 the family was living in a courtyard in the St Martin’s District of Birmingham. That is, of course the Bull Ring area, as the church there is St Martin’s. They lived in Court No 10 in house No 2 and Robert (senior) worked as a Gun Implement Maker, his wife Mary Ann worked as a Brace Stitcher (whatever that is) son John, age 12, as a Cork Cutter and son Robert, age 10, as an Umbrella Ferrule Maker. Sarah was five and there was a younger brother Joseph aged 4. By 1871 Robert (senior) and Mary Ann had died (only in their forties) and John and Robert (junior) are lodging together in St Martin’s. Sarah Ann is in domestic service with an architect in the Lady Wood area of Birmingham. Within 4 years they are living in Derbyshire and settling down there - I'd love to know how this came about. At the end of 2004 we visited the Back to Backs in Birmingham, little knowing then that I was looking at the type of houses in the very same area where my ancestors would have lived and worked. A very salutary lesson, indeed.

Spring at Last

Looks like spring has arrived at last. The daffodils are in flower, the collard doves are billing and cooing and we have frog spawn in the pond. As I was walking back from replenishing the bird feeders in the plum tree I noticed the frog spawn and went to take a closer look; at this point the whole of the surface of the pond seemed to move - it was the newts basking in the watery sunshine and looking forward, no doubt, to feasting on tiny tadpoles when they eventually emerge from their little bubbles.

Ginger-ish

Overheard earlier today as I walked to the local shop. Two small boys chatting on the pavement whilst playing football

1st Boy - she isn’t ginger

2nd Boy - she is, well ginger-ish

1st boy - she’s strawberry blond

2nd boy - she isn’t blond, she’s ginger-ish

1st boy - she isn’t ginger

2nd boy - not ginger, I said ginger-ish

The pretty tabby kitten sitting on the wall watching them play gave me a knowing look.

One Year On

Well, I started this Blog a year ago today and it seems I wrote about Dab Chicks at Cromford Canal. Perhaps we should go back and look at them again but given that the weather is much colder this year than last they probably aren’t up to their courting rituals and amusing antics yet; is everything later this year? I think the blackbirds are nesting in our front hedge and today, when we walked around the lake at Trentham the heronry was buzzing; with the birds landing and taking off like planes at Manchester airport. The deer were clustered together as well; all the hinds around one protectively dominant, antlered stag. I’ve just downloaded the Springwatch details from the BBC web site. I haven’t seen any frog spawn in our pond yet this year; just one poor dead frog on the lawn, its back legs sheared off. P said it looked like it had been dropped from a heron’s beak because if one of the cats had taken it its injuries wouldn’t have been so clean cut. Funnily enough I saw a heron land near our pond the other day, peer rather dismissively into it – why do I always see herons wearing a pince-nez? – register that there were no fish and then take off, rather awkwardly, legs dangling, up and away over the shed and the trees behind, wings flapping like mad – hope it had an easier landing at its next port of call..

A Bad Decision

I visited the Elan Valley twice last year. Once with friends on our annual ‘get-together’ and the second time with P on our way further into mid-wales and the coast. It is a strange and beautiful place, even though man made, and summons up those same feelings as when, for example, you visit Ladybower in Derbyshire, or Rutland Water in Rutland because you are always aware of what lies beneath. You can imagine the anguish felt by the people whose homes were destroyed and the sheer hard labour of those who built the dams. For over 100 years the Elan Valley has supplied Birmingham with water at great cost to themselves. Lives, livelihoods and treasured family homes were lost. That is why I think it was so short sighted of Birmingham Council to say no when Community Arts Rhayader And District asked for a donation towards the cost of the £550,000 museum. There is a huge link between the two areas and when I watched the local news yesterday many of the people spoken to in the streets of Birmingham felt that the Council should have made a donation. I think that they have underestimated how their citizens feel about this. I hope they change their minds.

Favourite Book

As it is World Book Day today I thought I would mention one of my all time favourite books J L Carr’s ‘A Month in the Country’. It is set a few years after WW1 and is a bitter-sweet story of love, loss and discovery. There are multiple layers to the meaning of the book and the stories of the wonderful characters interweave throughout its pages. It makes me laugh, it makes me smile, it makes me cry. A truly glorious book that you can read again and again.

Arousing Strong Feelings

I can’t be the only person that hasn’t read any Dan Brown novels and in particular 'The Da Vinci Code', in fact, I know I’m not because I’ve spoken to several people who haven’t read him either. Of the people I’ve spoken to who have read the book they seem to be split into two very distinct camps, those that loved it; and those that hated it. In fact, not just hated it but, indeed, the very mention of either the book or the author seems to make then spit out very colourful and venomous expletives, the like of which I rarely hear except when directed towards mass murderers, child molesters or football thugs. However, the book that has been mentioned in the alleged plagiarism case, I seem to think I have read, many years ago when it was considered 'cool' and the right book to be seen with on a train - or a plane. It was passed round my place of work at the time and we all read it in turn. Well, if it wasn’t that one is was certainly one about the Knights Templar and the Holy Grail. I can't remember anything about it now though. So, I have to make the decision to read or not to read? Perhaps I'll just go and see the film.

Did you all remember to say 'white rabbits' this morning? For once I did remember.