Beware of Yesterday

 

 

 

Wot's the price of swedes boy?

The last few weeks have been chaotic to say the least. Not in a bad way, but my usual slow pace has been even slower over these last eight weeks due to enforced idleness for knee operation, recovery and recuperation.

So, the bonus of the Bridport Literary Festival, a trip to London to see Uncle Overend and Mott The Hoople at the O2 and a house move was almost as much as a quiet country lad could cope with.

The two events I attended at the Literary Festival were a joy. I was thoroughly entertained by some of the most eloquent speakers I have had the pleasure to listen to (Neil Ansell, Tim Dee, Charles Rangeley-Wilson, David Wilkinson and Dave Goulson) had both audiences spellbound. Special mention must also be made at the entertaining and complimentary way Nick Fisher introduced and managed both events - super stuff!

Eggardon sky

In days gone by when country bumpkins arrived in the smoke to sell their vegetable delights the cockney chaps would shout "wot's the price of swedes boy?" - my journey was hell (diversions and deviations to disorientate the unwary), but worth it when I got there. A walk up to town at home takes an age, not because of the distance, but due to the chatter with bumped into friends and complete strangers met. It's just what it is like and part of the charm. It was a shock when I naively and automatically did the same with all and sundry on tube and bus and a smile was met with a head hung low on my way to the megalith that was the O2 arena. I did indeed feel like said country bumpkin.

Much better inside - a delightful Chas and Dave poster made me chuckle (I like the sound of More Tea Vicar!) and I soon struck up a conversation with Aerial Bender (not of the Allcock variety) and me old mucker Rotters. Uncle Overend and the band played a stormer and with a 74 year old Ian Hunter I felt some of the reviews were a tad below the belt - they were superb. John Robb's excellent review of their Manchester gig sums up the whole scene most eloquently.


Chas & Dave at the O2

A quick beer with Uncle afterwards and home - I stopped in the early hours to breathe in the first proper frost of the late autumn overlooking the Jurassic Coast. In the bright moonlit sky a glorious shooting star welcomed me home.

At that moment I thought I am glad I know the price of swedes and long may that be the case! 

Even more go fishing by train, tube, bus or tram!

Alfred Francen - 1909

Charles Sharland - 1915

FC Robinson - A Day in the Country (1923)

The edge of everything

I don't know how I missed this delightful BBC4 series which was broadcast back in March. One of the episodes was with an artist who I admire greatly. Norman Ackroyd has always been an inspiration and when I need a slice of St Kilda it is usually to his monochrome etchings that I head for my fix. 

He has a wonderful talent which takes me there right then and right now with my own soundtrack of gull and sea. I am heading to Cape Wrath and St Kilda next year and I guess part of the reason for my fascination with these extremities is down to the art of Norman Ackroyd. It has always added to the mystique and enhanced my enjoyment of these places and so many others.

 
I especially like the way Norman pronounces archipelago! Splendid stuff.

Saturday Fever!

I don't normally post on a Saturday - either watching footy, listening to footy or fishing! With it being a quiet day on all those fronts I thought you would enjoy this little gem from the 1950's.

I am a football traditionalist and it hurts a great deal at the moment being a Cardiff City supporter - off the field eccentricities have been the focus when we should be celebrating one of the greatest periods in our clubs history. The fans know we will always be blue. We play Manchester Utd tomorrow for the first time since 1974 - we should be in blue and them in red - how times change.

I crave for the simple days of Ninian Park and pipe smoke, the smell of warm Peter's Pies from the Bob Bank kiosk and the pre-match build up that sometimes involved wading through the fug in the Bluebird Club. My Dad would let me go for a pee at half time by myself and this in itself was a journey of discovery to the Bob Bank bogs - my boys don't believe me when I tell them how horrific they were!

Time for Pike?

Friend or foe?

There are few in the world of angling who understandably see the otter as foe, but many a day riverside has been enhanced by the sighting of this creature. A true barometer of how well our rivers our doing now by comparison to the dark days of constant pollution seen in my childhood. I absolutely love them.

I have a slight obsession with cotton tea towels, so was overjoyed to find this lovely Richard Bawden example on our recent summer excursion to the North of Norfolk. Almost too nice to use!

Richard Bawden

Shell For Quick Starting - Kennedy 1931

 

Severn and Somme

Ivor Gurney

Ballad Of The Three Spectres

As I went up by Ovillers
In mud and water cold to the knee,
There went three jeering, fleeing spectres,
That walked abreast and talked of me.

The first said, 'Here's a right brave soldier
That walks the dark unfearingly;
Soon he'll come back on a fine stretcher,
And laughing for a nice Blighty.'

The second, 'Read his face, old comrade,
No kind of lucky chance I see;
One day he'll freeze in mud to the marrow,
Then look his last on Picardie.'

Though bitter the word of these first twain
Curses the third spat venomously;
'He'll stay untouched till the war's last dawning
Then live one hour of agony.'

Liars the first two were. Behold me
At sloping arms by one - two - three;
Waiting the time I shall discover
Whether the third spake verity.

 

Ivor Gurney

I need to go, I need to go!

It's been slightly chaotic at Straker Towers (ST) - a move, surgery on a gammy knee and much to pack / unpack, which box to move from A to B and then C and back again and much buried treasure found thought lost at sea! Phew!

A bit more vegetable tomfoolery - our lovely veggie box chap thought this would make us laugh in our weekly box and it did. I get that feeling often when looking at a tumbling weir pool!

His

Hers

Awaiting us at ST was a splendid tray of Sunset apples which had been harvested from the trees we are now most excited to have in our garden - what a lovely tray of treasure and they taste amazing.



Friday Face

I resisted all temptation to do anything rude! The time of squash has come. It is the season of squash, cider and fireworks. Hopefully all at the same time! Risotto?