… and it’s green, guacamole green. I love food colouring. I like making cake to share too. I’m glad this one is going to be put to good use after all; it’s going off with a friend for her last day at work!
Category Archives for Photography
Creativity in Progress
Want to Come on Another Jaunt?
I can’t believe that this was three months ago already, this week we’re going back to the hospital for another check up. The appointment is, of course, not mine, I’m just the navigator. But I’ve got to meet and make friends with two lovely people, friends of a good friend of mine, and we had a lovely day out at the same time. (My good friend is the driver. It does take four adults to go to a hospital appointment).
It was a city that we’d never visited before, Portsmouth, but my good friend is always one for an adventure and an explore so this is our wander on a bitterly cold winter’s afternoon:
Want to Visit the Big Smoke?
This time last year, we country bumpkins got to gallivant in the Big Smoke, otherwise known as London. The weather was, of course, abysmal most of the day but you can be sure that didn’t stop me from taking photos!
Want to take a walk around the city as pictured through a rather idiosyncratic lens?
The Day They Got it Right
I don’t much trust weather forecasts, maybe because I am something of a sceptic when it comes to Science, it seems that Science has pretty much become the religion of the day with us mere mortals putting blind faith into the whims and translations and perspectives of Scientists. I do not naturally go along with the crowd; I challenge things and form my own conclusions and beliefs. I find it hard to be infatuated, blind to faults and mistakes, and Science has known a fair few of these. And rarely admits to them. And there’s another reason for me to be uncomfortable, untrusting of Science and its god-like Scientists, it is their attitude. I don’t like the smug, the self-righteous in any walk of life, I don’t like people who reject what has gone before as if it no longer has any value or interest, I don’t have a high opinion of people who claim that their own personal belief system is the only belief system possible and that all men should follow their creed. I have my beliefs and I respect you to have yours, please respect mine. Science and its Scientists have an increasing tendency to look down sneeringly at us mere mortals, especially those of us who stubbornly remain outside of their flock and question them. We are weak, unintelligent and just plain ignorant and stupid. I don’t do well with being told that I’m stupid. I’m likely to play up.
There is one area of Science that I have virtually no credence in: weather forecasting. They claim that they are much more accurate these days, using satellite pictures to trace cloud patterns before they even reach a particular area but they aren’t infallible. I wait to see what cloud I have over my own head before analysing weather possibilities, clouds don’t always behave in the way Scientists would like them to. Or when. And despite all the technology and Scientific Jargon, nothing much has really changed. It is still the ancient art of reading the sky, of casting one’s eyes heavenwards to pick out signs and stories that may tell the future.
I am sceptical because I know that clouds, and indeed any other parts of weather systems, are idiosyncratic, much like me. They don’t tend to behave in socially acceptable predictable ways; they can build or diminish, burn out or gather energy. It is still the clouds that are our fore bringers of the future, something that is deeply imbedded into our idiomatic language. We talk of gathering storms and country folk still know the value of signs such as red sunsets or sunrises, St Swithin’s Day and mackerel sky. We know our local winds and what they mean for us in each season. What more does Science really offer? A pretty picture, something to discuss and debate, something to guarantee viewing figures all the way through the news?
But admittedly the world is not as reliable as it used to be, our seasons fluctuate according to some unknown whim and the future a week ahead is less predictable even than that tricky predictive text, one letter out and the whole message can be read entirely wrong.
Weather forecasting is still a matter of decoding and waiting to see.
And when they predict weather events of abnormal intensity and scale then well, it’s wise to be a little sceptical. Why panic buy when the shops will still be open come what may and when any wise household keeps a reserve of at least dry goods in the winter? Why anticipate when each day is enough and has its own unique challenges?
But they got it right today. The snow came in hard with a storm wind last night and it looks like it’s planning to stick around.
I sent my envoy out with a camera, having made a wise decision that the best place for me was safely indoors where the temperature at least promised to climb above ten degrees.
It’s funny how snow completely changes the world; it becomes an enticing, magical place once those flimsy flakes settle and cover and it definitely brings out the child in many. (There is currently a group of twenty-year-old (at least) lads loitering outside their building who have nobly taken on the task of assaulting every vehicle and pedestrian that goes passed with snowballs). But it is the stillness, the quiet that makes a snow day a very different day from the mundane. It is as if the world has held its breath, wondering and waiting.
Guess What II
Last month I posted an abstract photo of toasted cheese with Worcestershire sauce (isn’t that the craziest word by the way?) and martinisandbonbons guessed right.
Are you ready for another round?
Can you guess what this is?
All answers on a postcard!
In Search of a Palace
There is something very alluring about the word ‘palace’ isn’t there? Well, there is for me. Castles are all well and good but they’re usually somewhat at the harsh end of existence whereas palaces suggest exotic opulence and grandeur. As such, these luxurious dwellings aren’t really what I associate with this country. Doesn’t a palace need warmth or emperor or Moors?
Apparently not.
When Kate Shrewsday mentioned a little-known castle, my ears pricked up. I like castles. Even the slightly disappointing ones that are just hill forts and playgrounds for sheep.
But this wasn’t just a castle, this was a bishop’s castle.
Also known as bishop’s palaces.
Kings and earls and dukes may not have palaces in this country but bishops certainly have. (Make of that what you will).
Kate put me on the trail of one a little closer to home, Taunton. Although without transport, Taunton might as well be the moon. (And it’s probably cheaper to get a bus there too).
But sometimes things just seem to tie together.
We had to go to Taunton.
We were lent a car for the expedition.
I grinned.
And added a wee mystery tour stop to the day.
As I am rather wont to do on occasion.
Do you want to come with me?
It was a cold, bleak day last February because I have been very remiss in not posting my experiences before. (I think illness and birds were appropriately distracting factors).
I’ve never set eyes before on the castle in Taunton, it’s always just beyond another arch, beyond the modern façades and brands of the high street. I wasn’t expecting great things because there is only so much space between the main road and the bus station (plus various car parks) where this other little hidden castle dwells.
And it is unprepossessing, tucked, as it was on that day, behind all sorts of road works and renovations, with a small footpath leading through a not so very high or intimidating wall of soft, local, yellow stone. But here is where the bishop’s castle of Taunton lurks, a little known piece of history, it is tucked away and crowded out by newer (and often, less attractive) development.
It is in the care of the county council who seem to be reluctant to let anyone know about it. They have, however, recently installed a brand spanking new history/archaeology museum, which, as small, regional museums go, is actually rather good. And free.
If you want history then you’ll have to turn to other sources which are a little more forthcoming about the place’s past. I (of the gift of the waffle) will attempt a précis of the castle’s first millennium:
Apparently, Taunton has a long association with bishops and their fancy dwellings, from right back in the days of the Anglo-Saxons when Taunton was in a kingdom called Wessex and not part of some bigger country as it is today. Then the Normans got in on the act (of course, they had something of a thing for castles) and it become the possession of the Bishops of Winchester. Scoot along a few more centuries and by the time of the Civil War, it seems to have fallen out of ecclesiastical hands and into the secular, seized as a lonely Parliamentarian enclave in the West Country by the Earl of Essex (who was clearly lost). The Royalist didn’t appreciate that and laid siege. The Siege of Taunton sounds a rather grand affair, an event worthy of an entire chapter in the history books but alas, names can be deceptive and it is only a footnote in a rather messy war. Taunton didn’t learn its lesson, however, and was not much later embroiled in another conflict, the Monmouth Rebellion, which I have a funny feeling that most schoolchildren outside of the West Country have never heard of. It was not something that ended particularly well for its supporters as many of them were brought up before the infamous Judge Jeffries. They called it the Bloody Assizes for good reason, another mess to be cleared up. After that, Taunton Castle seems to have passed into modern history and the much too settled times that we call our own, slowly falling into disrepair and neglect as lifestyles and tastes changed until people came to their senses and realised that whilst treasures are not always large or golden, they may often be found on your doorstep.
The museum will while away a rainy day but would be best visited with younger children who will find many of the exhibits geared to them. If you’re not quite so young, take a camera and be captivated by the fascinating elliptical windows as I was. I was also impressed that they seem to have melded the old and new very tastefully, much as the French often do in their own historical buildings without the slightest qualm, which adds some intriguing contrasts to explore.
There are also a few technical provisos to add before we start wandering!
As is usual with these places, there aren’t many opportunities for perching and by the end of our visit, I was struggling to carry and work the camera. I’ve tried not to tamper with the white balance, especially in the interior shots, to add something of the actual feel and atmosphere of the place. There is also very little I can do with an English washed out winter (or summer) sky, they are detail-less and much hated by camera sensors, but I’m sure that we could just claim that they add realistic local charm or something. However, if you do see a piece of blue sky, feel free to cheer.
You coming?
(I did say that I was captivated by the fascinating elliptical windows. Actually, just make that windows generally).
If you like, we can go on another day trip soon.
Can You Guess What It is Yet?
Can You Guess What It Is?
Old News
We found some old newspapers (parts of two) serving as insulation under the itchy coo in the loft so if you’d care to browse some of the articles making the news back in 1964 and 1956, I have pictures to share with you.
The 1956 paper seems to be a copy of the Dispatch, possibly of the 22nd June. We’ve only got a few shreds of it. But it’s still interesting to find a newspaper (or remains of) which is older than our building (this block of flats was built in 1957). We found complete sheets from the Saturday, July 11 1964 Daily Mirror (a newspaper name which is perhaps more familiar and yes, the date was printed in the American style, you can check below). The newsagent had written a surname in the top corner so someone must have had a regular order.
The next few posts will probably be knitting-based so my apologies if you’re not the biggest fan of the craft but hopefully I make it interesting for knitters and non-knitters alike; knitting often becomes a metaphor for me to explore and discuss bigger ideas, issues and themes so even if you don’t knit, read along and see, for example, how fear can hold us back and how our hobbies can be barometers of growth and change.
And now for the headlines:
- 1956 – Non-Stop Flight to Moscow
- 1956 – Do You Have a Washing Machine?
- 1956 – Don’t Plunge Good Girls into Evil
- 1956 – Keep Girls and Boys Apart
- 1956 – Celebrity Quotes
- 1956 – Breaking the Laxative Habit
- 1956 – Parrots have Accents
- 1956 – Somerset Cricket
- 1956 – Cricket: England v Australia
- 1956 – Vaccination Failure
- 1956 – Television’s Wheelchair Girl
- 1956 – The Truth about Rupture
- 1964 – Daily Mirror for 3d
- 1964 – Passengers Grounded
- 1964 – Frenzy in Beatlepool
- 1964 – Topless Girl on Bus
- 1964 – Same Sized Columns
- 1964 – Almost Round-the-Clock Radio
- 1964 – Cat with Puppies
- 1964 – Accident on New Forth Bridge
- 1964 – Bullivant Shatters Record
- 1964 – Great Mirror Armada
- 1964 – Fishing Column
- 1964 – Rain at Times
- 1964 – Home Movies for 39 Guineas
- 1964 – Straight Pineapple Juice
- 1964 – Hotpoint Twintub
- 1964 – Felix Catfood (Supermarkets not Available)
- 1964 – Russian Watch
- 1964 – Trend for Exotic Pets
- 1964 – The Difficulties of Polygamy
- 1964 – Admitting to Being Lost
What do you think? Has the world changed in the last fifty years or not?
Real Friends …
… ask you to the beach.
… tell you that you don’t need to bring your deckchair because they have one in the boot that you can use. (Even though everyone else is sitting on picnic blankets on the floor).
… tell you to bring both sticks. You ask how they know that you have two sticks because you only have ever use just the one. They think that they’ve seen you use two before but it doesn’t matter, just bring both because you’re gonna need them.
… warn you that there’s a steep hill and steps (especially on the way back) but you all agree that it’s worth it.
… pick you up.
… let you knit in their car all the way there.
… offer to carry your bags, if you’d like.
… let you walk at your pace, however shamefully slow that might be.
… aren’t worried when you get the camera out to take some pictures.
… carry your hat so you have both hands free to hold your sticks (it’s windy).
… believe you when you say you’d rather scale the cliff on the rocks and grass than try the steps. (I don’t do steps).
… bring you here:
… let you sit in your lone deckchair and knit all the time that we’re there.
That’s good friends.
(I don’t know those people, they were just in my frame).
… don’t worry when you go back up the hill at even more shamefully slow pace (I think snails were overtaking me).
… don’t get funny when you stop to breathe every now and then. (Snails definitely breathe easier).
… don’t get cheesed off when, despite the fact that you’re the slowest (by miles) member of the party, you stop to take a few photos.
I like friends like these.
I like places like this.
And yes, I did make it back up that ‘hill’. Eventually. I have the photos to prove it. But thank goodness for ‘four wheel drive’.
PS. It’s absolutely ridiculous that I have never, ever, ever been here before. People come from all over the world just to see this beach and I’ve grown up not too far away from it and have never seen it for myself. Something ticked off anyway.
