close
The Wayback Machine - https://web.archive.org/web/20251117193825/https://northstoke.blogspot.com/

Sunday, November 16, 2025

Things I pick up along the way

BERJAYA

 Well Storm Claudia has certainly helped the water situation with parts of England flooded out. It started for us when my daughter phoned on Friday evening from Manchester that her train had been delayed, tree on the line.  They had sat on the train for a while then got off to get on another train but no go.  Karen phoned for an Uber to Tod, and a girl standing by her said 'no I am not stalking you' but could she come as well.  Whereupon a couple standing near said the same.  So the brave Uber driver drove through flooded roads and delivered  all four safely in Tod.  We weren't really expecting it here, the rain definitely and the wind but not the breakdown of the train services.  

Also Tom and Ellie were coming for the weekend, but can't make it from Macclesfield, although we might see them for lunch, if the train situation clears, The table is already booked in Tod.

BERJAYA
Tom is beginning to look like Owen Jones!

BERJAYA
Ellie pretty as ever

BERJAYA
The view from the window


Apart from that life goes on quietly and as you can see both turned up.  Settled happily in their new home and recent jobs.  Tom who works for a publisher has to read books for them.  But strangely enough his home reading is the first two books of the Phillip Pullman 'Dust' trilogy, so that he can read the last one 'The Rose field' which I am listening to at the moment.  Although I have become a bit lacklustre as to finishing.  Perhaps I should have read the first books to, I find too many characters popping up and various scenarios becomes confusing in the end.

The meal was delicious, though we waited a long time for it.  Roasts for the Sunday tradition, mine was a nut roast with sweet puddings afterwards.  Slightly off-putting was the child being sick across the road, he seemed to have come from football in the park.

BERJAYA

BERJAYA


Friday, November 14, 2025

Interlude

 A favourite vlog of mine is 'The Mindful Narrowboat'.  This week Vanessa takes off to Whitby for a few days.  And boards the 'Flying Scotsman' at Grosmont.  It is only a short time and occurs round 15 minutes into the video.  The video itself is of course a nature ramble through the countryside.  And the first redwings have arrived in the country from places such as Iceland, there should be plenty of berries for them this year as also for the fieldfare arriving at a similar time, both belong to the thrush family.


BERJAYA

14th November 2025

 

BERJAYA
the Storseisundet road in Norway.

I start with this road that travels across water bumping on land that zig zags across, a marvellous feat of engineering.   I may be anonymous this morning because the computer or at least blogger refuses to acknowledge me.  Hey-ho.

Just had a deep discussion on whether the bread in the freezer is mine or not.  I win and will eat the bread but which is not mine.  But am not going down to Lidl because rain is expected all day.  Actually I quite like the rain.  Also because Andrew goes swimming I have to be in for our cleaner Sam.  But will she turn up I wonder?  Sam comes one morning every fortnight and cleans the main rooms of the house.  But last week went on holiday to Turkey.

Yesterday we had the first of the builders come to look round to give a quote on the work of transforming this house.  The plans have gone into the council and it will probably be 8 weeks before we hear anything back.

The following poem by Australian poet and writer Frederic Manning (1882-1935) captures both Autumn and the first world war.  Found in The Guardian.

A frail and tenuous mist lingers on baffled and intricate branches;
Little gilt leaves are still, for quietness holds every bough;
Pools in the muddy road slumber, reflecting indifferent stars;
Steeped in the loveliness of moonlight is earth, and the valleys,
Brimmed up with quiet shadow, with a mist of sleep.

But afar on the horizon rise great pulses of light,
The hammering of guns, wrestling, locked in conflict
Like brute, stone gods of old struggling confusedly;
Then overhead purrs a shell, and our heavies
Answer, with sudden clapping bruits of sound,
Loosening our shells that stream whining and whimpering precipitately,
Hounding through air athirst for blood.
And the little gilt leaves
Flicker in falling, like waifs and flakes of flame.



Wednesday, November 12, 2025

Zero Waste

 

BERJAYA
13th century scroll of 6 persimmons

A living force resides in all things.

Some of the videos I watch are Japanese.  This because Paul my late partner lived and worked in Japan for many years in Kyoto.  We never went to Japan together and I had a sketchy idea of what it is like.  Paul always thought I would be scared of the hustle and bustle of the towns.  My nature belongs in the countryside, his nature was urban.

I find that Japanese people can be very spiritual, they are very polite and mostly their customs are simple.  Paul had part of his soul within the Japanese culture, little gods lay around the house and he loved to collect weird things.  When I left the house in Normanby leaving it to his two boys I did not take much, the odd little god from the kitchen.  But the scary hangings of gods were not for me, in fact when I come to think about it there was a lot in Japanese culture that frightened me.

Like most Japanese people Paul was absolutely very neat, this came from his work as a conservationist of scrolls.  He was probably only one of a few Westerners who took up this work in a Japanese studio.  There was in the studio at Chelmsford a photo of him kneeling at the work bench with Japanese colleagues and the Emperor and his wife coming to view their work.

He was immensely proud of what he did and I think this ruffled a few feathers of some people.  I know that he was attacked on the internet by a particularly loathsome person.  In fact I will let you into a secret, this person used to live at Hebden Bridge, but luckily moved up to Scotland, but I was actually scared of coming to Todmorden because of him.

But Paul was brave, he left Swindon after studying at the art college, boarded a plane to Japan and arrived there with very little money. Bewildered on the Tokyo train station at midnight and not knowing what to do he was rescued by the rail people who called the police and they took him to a hostel.

He had come under the auspice of an American lady, you can find her here - Ruth Fuller Sasaki.  Who had married a Japanese priest, who died within one year of the marriage and she herself became a priestess at the Daitoku-ji temple.

A wiki outlines her life

Paul stuck it out for a year as a Buddhist monk, he had a hut in the temple gardens, and his father would send some money out but he claims he only survived on apples and peanut butter.  He joined a studio and after 10 years apprenticeship was fully qualified and worked in the Kyoto National Museum. Paul married and had two sons but eventually decided to come with his family back to  England where he worked at the British Museum.  In fact he created the space for the repair of scrolls - the long working tables, tatami mats. All the tools, brushes and tissue papers that went into renewing the scrolls.

I use the word renewing in the sense that these old scrolls had a history unto themselves. They may have become dark with age or had a stain on them but that was part of their history and just like the adding of gold paint to highlight the cracks in broken china, or as it is called kintsugi, you kept the object in its broken form but with protection.

I will quote here from Paul's word some of the work involved when he is asked by an interviewer 'what happens if you go down as the man who destroyed a priceless national treasure?'

"Of course there are stages when that can happen - at the beginning when a painting is turned on its front and the backing layers peeled off, it is in a completely wet stage, with the original silk adhering to the base paper.  Finally, all the fragments of silk are in position.  Any false move at that time and it is finished.  That's probably the most frightening part of the work.  Fortunately that has never happened".

Funnily enough I sat down to write this after watching a video of a Japanese gardener.  He had a yard full of plants, 3000 I think, these were trees and shrubs  from people's gardens.  The people may have died, or moved on but rather than allow these plants to face the unknown happenings of the world, they ended up in his yard where occasionally they were found permanent happy homes ;) just like homeless cats and dogs.  

I will finish with the 'Six Persimmons' 13th century work painted by A Chinese monk, which seems to be a puzzle.  Someone, an orientalist called Arthur Waley long since dead said of it.....

(6 Persimmons is) passion... congealed into a stupendous calm.  It reminds me of the puzzle in only clapping with one hand.

Gary Snyder on Persimmons



Tuesday, November 11, 2025

11th November 2025

Good bye Autumn, and welcome brown, slithery muddy leaves. Constant rain is already turning their golden tones to the brown of decay. Look on the bright side the reservoirs are filling up.

Family are back and forth, Lillie back to London and Andrew also went up to London yesterday for business. Tonight my daughter and Andrew are going to see Lucien play in his band in Manchester, I hope it is a success, think their band is doing a tour.

Someone on F/B put up Riveaulx Abbey and Byland Abbey up, on a misty morning, well I shall put up my sunny photos of these two abbeys.

BERJAYA
Riveaulx Abbey


BERJAYA
Bylands Abbey

How the mighty have fallen and yes I am talking about the BBC and its fall from grace.  Yes the conservatives will be in there swinging left and right trying get rid of the old elephant.  They won't win of course, the BBC is an institution around the world. So a couple of idiots screwed up a factual documentary with splicing two bits of a conversation together and annoying the orange one.  So he immediately demands a billion (dollars or pounds I don't know).  Now the BBC can give a very apologetic answer to him and hope that it will work.

The BBC has been our background to life since it first began in 1922.  Did you believe everything it told you? of course not.  Two heads have offered up their resignations, one always has to have heads on the chopping block don't you know;) A certain justice has taken place.  The BBC had to wend its way through an equally disturbing matter of the Palestine/Israel war, it may or may not have got it right because of political pressure.  But if you want to be informed just read around, or at least listen around, there are plenty of podcasts out there strumming the "truth" and facts don't alter, though death figures might.

What came out of those abbeys so needlessly destroyed in their times? Firstly beauty, a dedication to craftmanship.  A community spirit, the monks also looked after the poor.  Calm oases, a belief system that marked their lives.

Definitely not the mayhem we see today in our society.  The thing is there is no mayhem in most towns, mostly we see community spirit.  It is only the media trying to drum up reading figures that blow up every  scandal out of proportion.

Who can resist the logical quote from Shelley.

And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away

North Stoke: Book

Rebecca Solnit in the Guardian

Saturday, November 8, 2025

8th November 2025

 Times are quiet and dark, by dark I mean the way afternoons get darker and darker faster each day.  We wait for the 21st December when the turnaround happens and then once more we shall surge towards the light and growth.  I suspect that was why Xmas was devised a whole event of light and present giving.  I miss actually going to the garden centre near Chelmsford, the place sporting displays of coloured baubles and lifelike animals that clustered in unreal tableaus.  Books to read, candles to buy and tea to sit down to after you had saturated yourself with the gaudiness of the season.

It is 7.30 I hear music somewhere in the house, my daughter has been haunted over the last few days by a Melanie song, which I used to play when she was young.   Melanie did not have a very good voice but she had that raw energy of the day.  The song - 'Look what they've done to my song ma'  Finding it on YouTube, the next song is from 2009 and it is Peter Seeger and co singing 'This Land is My Land'. Obama sits in the audience.  Somewhat ironic  16 years later.

Knitting wise, having put down my needles for a few days, picked them up and knitted the second fingerless glove for myself. I have one in black and the other in grey.  This is because that at this time of year with black wool it is difficult to distinguish the stitches.  The black one caused me much frustration. I tried because Matilda wanted a pair but I thought to myself she will probably lose them anyway.  And the saga of my lost suitcase still haunts me.  Childish of course but I only used it once and then she went off to London with it.  Last time I asked she just waved her hand generally and answered - it's somewhere in London ;)

Lillie is back this weekend, she arrived late last night, there is of course a parade of the scouts in Todmorden on Sunday which is tomorrow for Remembrance Sunday.  I reckon she will be up for an OBE in 30 years time for service to the scouts.

BERJAYA

One other thing, you may, or you may not know that Ted Hughes ex-wife Sylvia Plath is buried in Heptonstall.  Many people make a pilgrimage to her grave and at this moment it is covered in plants and looks respectable.  But there are some who have taken it on themselves to judge Hughes for the unhappy marriage and try to remove his name which appears next to Sylvias. All to no avail, because the name is recut again.  It is vandalism of course, as is the need to put your mark on someone else's history.

Even amidst fierce flames the golden lotus can be planted

This also is written on her gravestone, it means resilience and hope and is taken from the Bhagavad-Gita.

The Calderstones in Liverpool

Thursday, November 6, 2025

Solsbury Hill and honey

 

BERJAYA
Solsbury Hill

My mind goes back to Solsbury Hill so often that sometimes I think I should have my ashes nestled in the ground up there.  Up the steep hill one walked, the lane came to a dead end and there was no space for parking a car.  I once walked  up on a Good Friday and found a local community of people carrying a cross on the hill, it seemed so weird this place which was once an Iron Age settlement.
It was situated just outside Bath, near Bathampton and  of course a song by Peter Gabriel always pulls me back to these hills around Bath.  This particular version is a montage of the times he played it and how he grew old over time.  He lived in Box a few miles away and had his studios there.


As for honey.  Well I have been on a search for genuine honey these last few weeks.  Basically it did not have to cost a lot.  This doesn't mean I am mean, I will pay a good price for decent food but Manuka Honey not...  The cheese stall in Tod market had local honey but it seemed to have been sold out.  So yesterday when I went to buy my favourite cheese at the moment - Cranberry Lancashire cheese (£7 for 200 grams!). 
They do it cheaper at Aldi but of course the real crumbly cheese is much better.  And also someone has got the wording wrong at Aldi, Granberry Cheese! So I wandered down the aisle and there was the olive stall.  I spied honey and the two men were seemingly a father and a lovely camp lad were very talkative and friendly.  So I specified what I wanted from  honey, his £12 jar was too much but they produced a smaller jar at £8.  I had some this morning, it was delicious, Greek and from  oak and chestnut trees.  The boy added up the two items and said with a grin 'that's £10 precisely' rounding it up no less, which made me giggle inside.  Bet he didn't do his timetables when growing up Tasker.

Note:  I like the montage over time of Gabriel singing this song, he ages well but the fun, singing and dancing do not age.  And as a reference there is no eagles sweeping over this last part of the Cotswold Hills, neither are there vultures. 

Wednesday, November 5, 2025

A Happy Face

 New York's new mayor  Zoran Mamdani.  O dear he is a socialist democrat says she dancing with delight.  Is the great liner of America slowly starting to turn towards a more humanitarian outlook.  In the voting of several states Democrats seem to be winning.  Let us just hope that it is the beginning of a sensible course.

BERJAYA


Monday, November 3, 2025

Turner Prize 1 - Artists.

 

BERJAYA
Artist - Mohammed Sami



Turner Prize my photos - 2

BERJAYA
Indian Garden at Cartwright Hall

 

BERJAYA
Nnena Kalu

BERJAYA
A permanent Lowry there was also an early drawing by Hockney there


BERJAYA
The phone just about gets the very vivid red of the tape



BERJAYA
The quiet space


I
BERJAYA
Artist Zadie Xa this was my favourite artist.  Description later, A reflective floor

It is a shame I did not take more photographs of this art installation by Zadie Xa

but the floor had motion in it and I felt rather sick.  You have to wear cloth shoes. It was a very waterish effect in the green shimmering light and great, in the sense of large, paintings on the wall.  One was warned as a female when you booked a free entry time not to wear a skirt so there was no 'upskirting' going on!

Trip to Bradford

We went to Lister Park in Bradford and the gallery there yesterday to see the Turner Prize. Karen and Andrew had not heard of the man that ran amok on the train the day before near Cambridge and were completely innocent as far as the attack was concerned.  It was of course a stand down from a terrorist act more a young man acting on his own motives.  I have just been listening to 'Thought for the Day' on the radio, and the person expresses his gratitude to the men who unflinchingly tackled the man with the knife, one now who is in hospital dangerously wounded.
Yet our train both ways yesterday was full of people, chatting away or consulting their oracles of knowledge - yes the phone, for which no one shall say a wicked word against them!
Below you will see the photos I managed to snatch out of my phone, when I had not inadvertently hit the wrong spot and gone to video.  

At the old Odeon, we could not not get in to see Andrew's friend Adam Goodfellow's work on the restoration but trail a little further down the road to the Albramha and the place was alive with the excited chatter of the little ones going to see Matilda. Dresses sparkled, feet danced in gold shoes as they joined the queue.  Slightly funny, to me of course, was the couple of bouncers to organise the crowd, I mean how do you quieten down 5 year olds as a bouncer?

As you wander through the city of Bradford and wonder how the money was spent on this 'City of Culture' this year, you will see it in pedestrianised streets, large flowerbeds everywhere, even a very long bed of wild flowers. 

We were going to the market but only one floor was open which was the restaurant area so that idea had to be given up and we caught an Uber to Lister Park.  I am greatly impressed by Ubers but could in no way actually get one.  They arrive within a few minutes of you calling for one in the immediate area.  Mostly run by the friendly Asian people, sometimes they are chatter boxes other times silent.
As we drove down the avenue of trees in the park it was absolutely beautiful the Autumn colours, our driver said he came to the park to find peace and also to bring his boys along to play cricket.

BERJAYA

 
BERJAYA
Fashionable benches everywhere

BERJAYA
Andrew was such a hero as he caught me every time I stumbled ;)



BERJAYA

BERJAYA

BERJAYA
Always like the detail B/W photos produce

BERJAYA
I think the large building facing the camera was the Town Hall



BERJAYA
The Gallery in Lister Park

To be continued

Saturday, November 1, 2025

1st November 2025

History in the making - 2007

Does anyone remember Trinny and Susannah - Women Undress.  An ITV show which featured these two fashion women dressing poor females who thought themselves as dumpy or ill wardrobed.  That maybe cruel but then light hearted entertainment is all about that sort of thing.

BERJAYA
Wilmington Long Man.  Taken from Wiki - Cupcake kid

Well the two women committed a crime against one of the precious monuments of England - The Wilmington Long Man.  For historic evidence go to the Wiki here, but it was a medieval figure marked out by chalk.  The idea was to turn the 'man' into a 'woman'.  Good thing they did not try it on The Cerne Giant, getting rid of his penis might have been a problem! 

BERJAYA
Cerne Giant taken from Wiki - Peter Harlow

But they came up against the Druids who were angry at this desecration of the monument and who protested at the site. You can see the disagreement in the video below.  The video by the way is old and a bit of jumping around is probably needed, it is 9 minutes long.  We must have covered it on Heritage Action and I wrote about it here.

It is the sheer silliness of it all that still makes me giggle, what were those hundred women, dressed in their white suites, thinking about.  Was this women's liberation gone batty, or was it the fault of a producer that had hardly left London to think up this silly prank.  The dignified Druids turned their backs on the women as they came down the side of the hill away from the monument.

All this came back this morning when I was thinking about the chalk giant in John Hooker's poem.  At least it has stopped raining now.  It was a gentle sound though noisier on the Velux windows in the attic.


The Cerne Giant Wiki

Friday, October 31, 2025

31st October 2025 - Ben Edge

BERJAYA
Ben Edge at Avebury

I haven't had much to say the last couple of days.  Been listening to the new book by Philip Pullman the last of the trilogy about Lyra it is called 'The Rose Field'.  Pondering on shadows/spirits and dust and material beings and maybe avenging angels in the black space. 
But the 31st October has arrived, and as long as you don't open your door to that knock then visitations from the graveyard should be far and few.

So what turned up this morning?  Ben Edge an artist of the folklore of this island of Albion and his rather wonderful interpretation of the weird and wonderful that lies behind our folklore.  I know Liam will dismiss this artist as childish but at least it gives us a break from you know who, that orange topped man with the red tie.
But as someone who has watched the Druids parade around the stones in their white gowns his paintings  makes me smile.
Here is his 'Children of Albion' at the Fitzrovia Chapel,  the exhibition of which opens in November.  In the short video below you will see the rather large crowd who have gathered together to clean The White Horse of Uffington, who probably does stretch far back into prehistory, the token animal of a tribe.



 Happy Halloween everyone xxx

And as always a poem to be found.   John Hooker on the Soliloquies of a Chalk Giant.

Chalk

A memorial of its origins, chalk in barns and churches
moulders in rain and damp;petrified creatures swim
in its depths.

It is domestic, with the homeliness of an ancient
hearth exposed to the weather, pale with the ash of
countless primeval fires. Here the plough grates on an
urnfield, the green plover stands with crest erect on
a royal mound.

Chalk is the moon's stone; the skeleton is native to its
soil. It looks anaemic, but has submerged the type-sites
of successive cultures. Stone, bronze, iron; all are assimilated to
its nature;
and the hill-forts follow its curves.

These, surely, are the works of giants; temples
re-dedicated to the sky-god, spires fashioned for the
lords of bowmen;

Spoils of the worn idol, squat Venus of the mines.

Druids leave their shops in the midsummer solstice;
neophytes tread an antic measure to the antlered god.
Men who trespass are soon absorbed, horns laid beside
them in the ground. The burnt-out tank waits beside
the barrow.

The god is a graffito carved on the belly of the chalk,
his savage gesture subdued by the stuff of his creation.
He is taken up like a gaunt white doll by the round hills,
wrapped around by the long pale hair of the fields

**********************************
Edit.  The Children of Albion.  Article in the Guardian 28th Oct.2025

Sunday, October 26, 2025

26th October 2025

When times were different:  Steve Reed mentioned Space Odyssey 2001 and I remember going to see it.  When I looked it up it had been released in May 1968.  Must have been pregnant then because I gave birth to my daughter in August.  As a film it just blew me away.  The black monolith turning in space, yet no answer for its being there.  The renegade computer called Hal, cutting the lifeline of one of the aeronauts as he works in space, the killing of the cryonic people frozen in time for the settling on a new planet.  But before that, I must have seen as a child Robbie the Robot in 'Forbidden Planet'.  All those years back and yet Musk still has not cracked the nut of space travel to other planets...hmm

The first AI computers were born and HAL proved that things can go awry easily enough as he rebels against the humans. As a note of comfort, a human person did manage to disable him/it/HAL (I'm not sexing a computer;) and HAL pleads for its presence/life.  I have lived through the coming of the dawn of computers, as a young child who became obsessed with H.G.Wells and his sci-fi stories.  The space age was definitely an opening story to life, shame it fizzled down to little robotic hoovers trailing around on the carpet with often the cat sitting on it.

And talking of cats Mollie is no longer constipated thank goodness.  How do you cure a cat and administer  some magical potion of medicine? You swaddle them in a towel and as they open their mouths to complain you squirt the medicine in with the pipit you are holding in the other hand.

There was a programme in the night discussing a washing the dishes robot but surely the dishwasher fulfils that role.  Slightly disappointed!  If you look at the Americans who land on Robbie's planet, you will see a version of America we all thought of them then, clean shaven and noble.  How did Trump arrive on the scene of history? by what paths did he waddle towards the ways of a fascist and authoritanism state.  A different state of which was defeated in the year I was born.

Slightly disorientated this morning, the clocks have gone back an hour, once I had worked that out my day proceeds normally.


Wednesday, October 22, 2025

22nd October 2025

 Let me fill the white space with words.  Firstly Phillip Pullman has brought out a new book, the final book on Lyra, we shall see.  It is called 'The Rose Field' Lyra is looking for her daemon.  Daemons are attachments of animals that reflect the person they accompany, as I haven't read all the books I don't know when the loss occurred.  But it was noticeable on the radio this morning that Pullman was very against AI which goes round vacuuming up all the knowledge in the world.  And presumably regurgitating it into new computer speak.

I did a little study of left-handedness yesterday. I am left handed and have gone through life unperturbed by being so.  True at kindergarten the nuns tried to make me use my right hand but I could not. Apparently though you are sometimes seen as neurodivergent and could have other neurological offsets.  In practice 10% of us are l/h and it just means we use the different sides of our brain differently.  We are indistinguishable from the rest of the population by the way ;) ;) but perhaps my need for a daemon distinguishes me a little.

Of course not to forget that l/h is sometimes referred to as 'sinister'.  This because sinister in Latin meant left, and so sometimes through history, those l/h persons were often seen as evil and dark and witchlike.  Well as it is coming up to Halloween - who knows?

I made a fish pie yesterday, it was slightly austere because there was no cream to enrich the very lemony sauce I cover the fish with.  But a few garlicked mushrooms and plenty of grated cheese on the mash enlivened it.  I had picked up some sprouts that morning, love sprouts but they are not for everyone, that includes Andrew.  I think sprouts have improved since our childhood recollections of them, they have a more nutty and sweet flavour.  

Anyway Andrew went out later and got some cream for the first apple crumble of the season, which is probably my most favourite of puddings.  My next favourite pudding is Eton Mess, a gloriously messy jumble of meringue, strawberries and cream.  Can also bring on a headache because of the richness.  My third favourite must be Bakewell Tart but it should have home made jam at its base to compliment the ground almonds above.

BERJAYA

And just because these are fading as winter approaches....
BERJAYA

Remember bluebells will be appearing in the spring...........

BERJAYA




 

Monday, October 20, 2025

Interlude


 I haven't got much to say, but it is raining outside and it reminded me of the temple, the rain is falling very gently though.  The travellers are back.  The unloading of Italian food has been undertaken and also a large old wooden pestle, the mortar was too heavy and expensive to bring back.  What else, another Mary and Jesus to add to the collection.  My daughter collects but she is not religious.  But occasionally, just occasionally she finds paintings or prints of both to hang on the wall.
Collections are funny things, and I am not a collector of anything, maybe books but a lot of those have gone to Oxfam.  Once one of Paul's clients had several boxes of religious icons delivered to the studio.  They had been in his cousin's basement for thirty years.  What was the point?  were they collected to go up in value.  Needless to say they were dark and unattractive.  We all unwrapped them, they were checked and then went back into the boxes again.


Sunday, October 19, 2025

Just the thing for Sunday


 Blackthorn Cottage

But then if you want your blood pressure up, biggest protest in history.  Well maybe but remember to keep the pressure up. No Kings crowds.
BERJAYA


Saturday, October 18, 2025

Silbury

 

BERJAYA

It is International Archaeology Day, the third Saturday in the month of October. And Silbury Hill went through my wallpaper on the computer.  It stands proud in the landscape,  often surrounded by water, the information says

Silbury Hill in Wiltshire, England, may seem like a simple slope in the countryside. However, it conceals a 4,500-year-old Neolithic enigma. Starting around 2400 BCE, chalk was locally quarried, transported and compacted by hand, layer by layer, over generations. The result is the tallest prehistoric mound in Europe, built entirely by human effort, rising to over 39 metres.

There were actually three mounds built within a few miles of each other.  The Marlborough Mound, standing conspicuously in the grounds of Marlborough College, school to many a British scholar, and in the Pewsey Valley, Marden Mound now razed to the ground over the centuries.  The Marlborough Mound, only recently seen as a Neolithic monument is  rather messed up by being part of the school's playground.

But to return to Silbury, Paul's great love and where he wanted his ashes thrown, though this later translated to the Yorkshire village we had settled in and loved.  The flat top is something of a conundrum, some would argue that it was a Saxon defense.  Marlborough was a Saxon town and there were several battles fought in the area.  Other theories have it as a catchment area for water or a copy of the Egyptian pyramids.

I have written so much about the hill I shall stop but leave you with an old photograph taken by Jacquetta Hawkes.  The photo must be about 70 years old but the hill is still the same but throwing a great cone shaped shadow. 

BERJAYA


 Bones of our wild forefathers

O forgive,
If now we pierce the chambers of your rest,
And open your dark pillows to the eye
Of the irreverent Day!
Hark, as we move,
Runs no stern whisper through the narrow vault?
Flickers no shape across our torch-light pale,
With backward beckoning arm?
No, all is still.
O that it were not!
O that sound or sign,
Vision, or legend, or the eagle glance
Of science, could call back thy history lost,
Green Pyramid of the plains, from far-ebbed Time!
O that the winds which kiss thy flowery turf
Could utter how they first beheld thee rise;
When in his toil the jealous Savage paused,
Drew deep his chest, pushed back his yellow hair,
And scanned the growing hill with reverent gaze,
-Or haply, how they gave their fitful pipe**
To join the chant prolonged o'er warriors cold
. -Or how the Druid's mystic robe they swelled;
Or from thy blackened brow on wailing wing
The solemn sacrificial ashes bore,
To strew them where now smiles the yellow corn,
Or where the peasant treads the Churchward***path

Emmeline Fisher

An unknown poet from Wiltshire, but her mother was a first cousin of Wordsworth.  Born 1825 and died in 1864.  Some information on Emmeline to be found here and here on Emmeline's poetry (Wordsworth thought she was a genius)