Much Improved!

[Click on the photos to enlarge them!]

When my brother and I sold our parents' cottage towards the end of 2005 we knew we had sold to people who had major plans for improvements, but perhaps more importantly were going to love it and make it into a magnificent home. This is certainly the case and I was shown around the almost fully finished house by the proud new owners this weekend. The south face of the long barn has picture windows taking in the wonderful view and above, a balcony juts out from the master bedroom. With a window open as spring goes on, they will be deafened in the early mornings by the dawn chorus of birdsong from the trees beyond the garden. The roof has been raised somewhat, I believe after some problems with planning permission from the council but the whole works so very well in the landscape. Click Here for more pictures from my excellent long weekend in the area!

PUZZLE PICTURE OF THE DAY

Any ideas what this is a photo of? - I will post the solution sometime next week if no one has got it!

My Photo of the Day

View from near Oban and a late evening ayrshire cow. June 2004

Pill, Pill, I love thee still

Today, in need of some fresh air I went to the village of Pill at the mouth of the River Avon for a walk and to take some photos. [Take a look please at all John's Pill photos] With the wind from the North, the air was certainly fresh and for about the first time this winter I felt the need of a pair of gloves. It was low tide and all the boats in the little creek harbour were stranded on the mud, which was gleaming in the sunshine. Pill was in centuries past, the home of the skilled river pilots who met larger ships, entering the River Avon from the sea. The river winds upstream for about 10 km from here to Bristol City Docks and with the second highest tidal range in the world and many shifting sand and mud banks, the entrance to Bristol by sea was always treacherous and needed a special local knowledge. Ships had to be towed upriver on the rising tide and safely moored before the ebb. At low tide ships had to rest on the river bed. The journey for a ship being towed from Pill to Bristol could take a week. Some ships anchored up at Pill and transferred their cargoes to small boats which, piloted by the famed Pill Hobblers were rowed and towed upstream to the port.
Pill has been made famous in Folk Song by the Wurzels: -
Chorus:
Pill, Pill, I love thee still
Even though I'm leaving
Pill, Pill, I love thee still
When the ferry boat starts heavin
When the rain down pours,
the thunder roars
The lightnin flashes bright
I'll be better by far in The Duke or The Star
Than on the Old Pill Ferry tonight.

Dominic, Shakespeare and Me

Yesterday I spent a very pleasant evening at Bristol University’s Wickham Theatre listening to a talk given by Dominic Dromgoole, the Director of The Globe Theatre on London’s South Bank. A full and appreciative audience heard Patrick give anecdotal and passionate thoughts on Shakespeare, his plays and how these fitted into Shakespeare’s own history, travels and family life. He referred often to his own walk of pilgrimage from Shakespeare’s birthplace at Stratford-upon-Avon to the Globe Theatre which he wrote about in his best-selling book “Will and Me: How Shakespeare Took Over My Life”.
Although Dominic is 20 years younger than me, I gave thought to the similarities and differences of our childhoods. My father was, in his prime, a Shakespearean actor of some repute; Dominic’s father Patrick was also a leading director and producer. Dominic remembered as a child having his father recite Shakespeare to him and his siblings before bedtime and being entranced by the words and the cadences, the beginning of Dominic’s love of drama. For me the experience was different, I did hear my father practice his lines, was taken occasionally to see the plays, but I cannot remember being deliberately recited to in that way. Often my father was away performing on stage in the evenings and so my brother and I saw little of him at bedtime.
But our house was full of books. Available to us were most of the major works of literature, plays and poetry among many other genres such as art, history and detective fiction for the lighter moments and train journeys. However I sadly admit that I was an avoider of literature for most of my school years. Perhaps I rebelled against the arts because I could not compete with two extremely well read parents or with a more studious younger brother. In the many years that have passed since my schooldays I have learned to appreciate all the branches of the arts with the possible exception of the opera (sorry opera!) and have in more recent years gone out of my way to improve a knowledge that was sadly lacking by the time I had reached my late teens. After the talk, I spent a few moments talking with Stephanie Cole OBE, one of the UK’s finest character actresses and who had known my father. She is now President of the Bristol University Theatre Collection the organisers of the talk, and she urged me to read Dominic’s book – I certainly will.

How much longer Mr Mugabe?

The chaotic rule of Robert Mugabe in Zimbabwe must surely be nearing its end?

Violence once again hits the news: Even public prayer is now a political offence in Zimbabwe. A rally called by church, opposition and civic groups to pray for an end to Zimbabwe's deepening political and economic crisis was thwarted by police riot squads, who shot and beat those taking part. Dozens of opposition figures were arrested, including Morgan Tsvangirai, head of the Movement for Democratic Change. Many were beaten and allegedly tortured in police custody; Mr Tsvangirai is reported to be in "bad shape" after passing out three times. Far from being ashamed of such police brutality, the Mugabe Government appears keen to publicise the torture: the beaten men were put on parade at the police station to intimidate Mr Mugabe's courageous opponents. [from The Times] There's lots more on the newswires.

That such a beautiful and potentially successful country has been brought to its knees by this despot is such a terrible shame.

My Photo of the DAY

I have been busy for the last few days with building a new wardrobe for my bedroom. All finished now with only a few pieces left over that I haven't found a use for despite the many sets of instuctions that came in the many boxes that were carted upstairs last Tuesday. I mean - what are the long plinth rails for? Yes I know they are MEANT to go around the top edge, but that means there is less access to whatever I need to put up there. Anyway apart from vacuuming the floor all is neater now. Sorry about the colour of the wall paint - it was the choice of the previous owner - not me! I'll get around to changing it one day!

No Surprise to me!

The headline in the New Scientist tells me that Stone Age men would not have been impressed by size zero women. I cannot think of any men from whatever age that would have been!
Polish archaeologists have found, preserved in ice, 30 flint female figurines dating back 15,000 years revealing that the preferred body shape for women was curvy with prominent buttocks.
While not I am sure that most modern men still prefer gigantic buttocks, I am not at all surprised that our ancestors appreciated curves!

My Antarctic Photo of the Day

Gentoo Penguins near a block of washed up Blue Ice, Neko Harbour December 2005

My Nose

I am reminded to post a short note to say that my nose, though still a bit sore, is getting there. I cannot as yet guarantee totally quiet nights - for me or anyone else in my vicinity. A favourite family book that as far as I know was looted by my father from somewhere in Germany in 1945, was a volume of Wilhelm Busch's poetry and cartoons. I could not understand the German words, but Busch's famous and pioneering cartoons left a lasting impression. I have found this apt cartoon on the internet to illustrate my nose, though mine was never in a bandage like this!

Breathing a sigh of relief

Three years ago, before I joined the Pearce Group, I had been rather unhappily working as a budget and resource planner for the aircraft manufacturing giant - Airbus. I had worked at the Technical Centre on Filton Airfield for over two years and though I enjoyed some aspects of the job, I found that management methods were overbearing to say the least. Today's news of thousands of European job losses comes as no surprise to me.
The massive plane, the A380 is assembled, as are all the Airbus fleet, at the Toulouse factory final assembly lines in France, from parts brought together from all the manufacturing plants in Germany, UK, France and Spain - a logistical nightmare in itself, but massive delays caused by problems with the aircraft electrical systems, and lack of firm sales has meant that a restucturing of the company has become inevitable. I am glad that I left when I did!

Fritallaries

Spring is Here
Photo taken Dartington, Devon, 2004

The Rocky Shores of England

Photo taken looking vertically down the cliff, North Devon, February 2004

Comet McNaught at Cape Town

Pictures sent on to me by a friend. An amazing view of Comet McNaught from Table Bay, taken last month.

In the bottom picture, the comet appears to be cascading down the slope of Lions Head (Table Mountain to the left) and in the top picture, Venus can just be seen to the left of the crescent moon, just above the horizon on the right!

My Photo of the Day

Brunel's steamship the SS Great Britain, now restored and conserved in the dry dock where she was originally built in 1843. A "must see" for any visitor to the City of Bristol and well worth looking at her history [see link above].

My Photo of the Day

A couple of Swaledale sheep I met in North Yorkshire last September.

Biodegradable at last!

From this week's New Scientist comes the news that at last, "disposable" nappies, (that's diapers to our North American cousins) are at last being made from biodegradable materials. I have often spoken of the previously incontrovertible fact that since their invention and unless incinerated, every single used "disposable" nappy IS STILL IN EXISTENCE - Somewhere!

Disposable diapers are good for time-strapped parents but bad for the environment, clogging up landfills and taking years to biodegrade. Now the first nappies to be fully degradable are set to hit supermarkets in Australia and New Zealand. Developed by SeNevens International of Como, Western Australia, they contain an absorbent felted "fluff" derived from eucalyptus trees and a leak-proof layer made from oil-based gel mixed with cornstarch instead of plastic. They biodegrade in six months.

In Hospital!

I have been in Southmead hospital for two days! Last time I stayed in a hospital overnight was for an eye operation in Birmingham in 1950!

This time nothing serious but I'm now resting after having had Septoplasty to improve and correct [I hope] my breathing especially at night. In the past my nose, large as it is, has created much snoring noise and sleeplessness in others who have lived in the same house as me, and this has caused me some embarrassment. At times I have experienced the medical condition known as sleep apnoea which is when the breathing stops and one involuntarily wakes oneself up with a loud compensatory gasp. [Or of course if one does not wake up, it doesn't matter any more! RIP]

Tonight I will have taped to my finger, an oximeter which will record my oxygen levels throughout the night and I am hopeful that there will be no forther apnoea episodes now that a clearer airway has been chiseled out! In the morning I will return the oximeter to the hospital for analysis and so I will record here at a later date on progress towards a good night's sleep for one and all!

My Photo of the Day

Crannog - A reconstructed lake dwelling on Loch Tay in Scotland. A place well worth a visit.

My Antarctic photo of the day

Black Browed Albatross - West Point Island - West Falkland Islands

Thousands Dead following floods in Somerset and South Wales

Last Saturday afternoon I drove over the Severn Bridge to the Caerleon campus of the University of Wales to a Forum to discuss the possible causes of the disastrous flood which occurred 400 years ago today on both the Welsh and Somerset shores of the Bristol Channel. 2,000 people were reported drowned in that event and it is considered pertinent to consider the possibilities that such an event could happen again with even more loss and damage.
Organised by Bath Spa University Department of Science and the Environment, detailed historical and geological evidence was presented. A most lively debate ensued as to whether the cause was a storm surge aligned to winds and a high spring tide, or alternatively by a tsunami following a landslip off the South West coast of Ireland or even further away. These matters have been presented before but this event was timed to coincide with today’s anniversary. A packed lecture theatre of interested people had very good value from the experts speaking for and against the two propositions. A majority at the end of the debate favoured a storm surge over a tsunami. Whatever it was, it may happen again and the Somerset and Newport Levels remain vulnerable in the future.

My Photo of the Day

They will soon be here again!

My Photo of the Day

Allt - y Rhiw [middle of photo] from the South- photo taken last July. There have been many changes since and the new owners, Mr & Mrs Whitthread have now moved in. This picture was taken for comparison purposes as I plan to visit again soon.

My Photo of the Day

Clifton Suspension Bridge from the Leigh Woods side looking towards Clifton Village.

Our Village - by Thomas Hood

Our Village -
"By a Villager"


Our village, that's to say, not Miss Mitford's village, but our village of Bullock Smithy,
Is come into by an avenue of trees, three oak pollards, two elders, and a withy;
And in the middle there's a green, of about not exceeding an acre and a half;
It's common to all and fed off by nineteen cows, six ponies, three horses, five asses, two foals, seven pigs, and a calf!
Besides a pond in the middle, as is held by a similar sort of common law lease,
And contains twenty ducks, six drakes, three ganders, two dead dogs, four drowned kittens, and twelve geese.
Of course the green's cropt very close, and does famous for bowling when the little village boys play at cricket;
Only some horse, or pig, or cow, or great jackass, is sure to come and stand right before the wicket.
There's fifty-five private houses, let alone barns and workshops, and pigsties, and poultry huts, and such-like sheds,
With plenty of public-houses—two Foxes, one Green Man, three Bunch of Grapes, one Crown, and six King's Heads.
The Green Man is reckoned the best, as the only one that for love or money can raise
A postillion, a blue jacket, two deplorable lame white horses, and a ramshackle "neat post-chaise!"
There's one parish church for all the people, whatsoever may be their ranks in life or their degrees,
Except one very damp, small, dark, freezing cold, a little Methodist Chapel of Ease;
And close by the churchyard, there's a stone-mason's yard, that when the time is seasonable
Will furnish with afflictions sore and marble urns and cherubims, very low and reasonable.
There's a cage, comfortable enough; I've been in it with Old Jack Jeffery and Tom Pike;
For the Green Man next door will send you in ale, gin, or anything else you like.
I can't speak of the stocks, as nothing remains of them but the upright post;
But the pound is kept in repair for the sake of Cob's horse as is always there almost.
There's a smithy of course, where that queer sort of a chap in his way, Old Joe Bradley,
Perpetually hammers and stammers, for he stutters and shoes horses very badly.
There's a shop of all sorts that sells everything, kept by the widow of Mr. Task;
But when you go there it's ten to one she's out of everything you ask.
You'll know her house by the swarm of boys, like flies, about the old sugary cask:
There are six empty houses, and not so well papered inside as out,
For bill-stickers won't beware, but stick notices of sales and election placards all about.
That's the Doctor's with a green door, where the garden pots in the window is seen;
A weakly monthly rose that don't blow, and a red geranium, and a teaplant with five black leaves, and one green.
As for hollyhocks at the cottage doors, and honeysuckles and jasmines, you may go and whistle;
But the Tailor's front garden grows two cabbages, a dock, a ha'porth of pennyroyal, two dandelions, and a thistle!
There are three small orchards—Mr. Busby's the school-master's is the chief—
With two pear trees that don't bear; one plum, and an apple that every year is stripped by a thief.
There's another small day-school too, kept by the respectable Mrs. Gaby,
A select establishment for six little boys, and one big, and four little girls and a baby;
There's a rectory with pointed gables and strange odd chimneys that never smokes,
For the Rector don't live on his living like other Christian sort of folks;
There's a barber's once a week well filled with rough black-bearded, shock-headed churls,
And a window with two feminine men's heads, and two masculine ladies in false curls;
There's a butcher's, and a carpenter's, and a plumber's, and a small greengrocer's, and a baker,
But he won't bake on a Sunday; and there's a sexton that's a coal merchant besides, and an undertaker;
And a toyshop, but not a whole one, for a village can't compare with the London shops;
One window sells drums, dolls, kites, carts, bats, Clout's balls, and the other sells malt and hops,
And Mrs. Brown in domestic economy not to be a bit behind her betters,
Lets her house to a milliner, a watchmaker, a rat-catcher, a cobbler, lives in it herself, and it's the post-office for letters.
Now I've gone through all the village—ay, from end to end, save and except one more house,
But I haven't come to that—and I hope I never shall—and that's the Village Poor House!