tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341598842024-03-14T16:00:14.798+00:00anno domini- all quiet on the Northern frontanno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.comBlogger58125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34159884.post-83357688734922530552007-12-22T18:16:00.000+00:002007-12-25T17:27:38.246+00:00'Come; see the oxen kneel'<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8gJD_qrgQyaY6BUWhHbqHDhTZtCiDd5BL7XNFgnM1KUyo7iw_Ln0Ur1ywwFeVLCYiRS0wjrUBiL8vFGydT7R9Y4MuzJRLOxn-KlkX2HwCnbCxN2-ekbnpEhb6d7J3GFSjwFxp/s1600-h/christmas+star+over+bethlehem.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146865954980969202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8gJD_qrgQyaY6BUWhHbqHDhTZtCiDd5BL7XNFgnM1KUyo7iw_Ln0Ur1ywwFeVLCYiRS0wjrUBiL8vFGydT7R9Y4MuzJRLOxn-KlkX2HwCnbCxN2-ekbnpEhb6d7J3GFSjwFxp/s200/christmas+star+over+bethlehem.gif" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">O magnum mysterium et admirabile sacramentum,<br />ut animalia viderent Dominum natum,<br />jacentem in præsepio.<br />Beata virgo, cujus viscera meruerunt<br />portare Dominum Christum, Alleluia!</span><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"></div><br /><div align="center"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>O great mystery and wondrous sacrament,<br />that animals should see the newborn Lord<br />lying in their manger.<br />Blessed is the Virgin whose womb was worthy<br />to bear the Lord Jesus Christ. Alleluia!</em></span></div><br /><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><br /><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146865521189272290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfhqe49Uk7U7sby9XgiCYhqXo_BZcz18Cku5_VZ3oAHlTIBLlDk5rdTysQUIY-AM1YbUnx2FkUf_vBSfikeOolyKvO1XyRqGeJ5lHJAAkaa2LvOs17UdcG9niz9z0v4Stdpp_R/s200/b+%26+w+manger.jpg" border="0" /></span></em></div><br /><br /><p align="center"><strong>The Oxen</strong></p>Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.<br />"Now they are all on their knees,"<br />An elder said as we sat in a flock<br />By the embers in hearthside ease.</span></div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"><div align="center"><br />We pictured the meek mild creatures where<br />They dwelt in their strawy pen,<br />Nor did it occur to one of us there<br />To doubt they were kneeling then.</div><div align="center"><br />So fair a fancy few would weave<br />In these years! Yet, I feel,<br />If someone said on Christmas Eve,<br />"Come; see the oxen kneel,"</div><div align="center"><br />In the lonely barton by yonder coomb<br />Our childhood used to know,”<br />I should go with him in the gloom,<br />Hoping it might be so<br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Thomas Hardy</span></em></div><div align="center"><br /></div><p align="center"><br /></span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146866354412927746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkxr0tdwEf5KRY3ZRLjXhMrC8vIK6KS-6q9DcSIJBEPOpq4cpcZZuSAZMLmFMRxZLLh4RtPAuriozVRcA5dnwU92E42o2fNF55orrCCa5uRfpHwd3oSLVphm1ZCCctYsP5a1sL/s200/oxen+woodcut+trim.JPG" border="0" /></p><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></p><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#ff0000;"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;">H<span style="color:#009900;">appy</span> C<span style="color:#009900;">hristmas</span><span style="color:#ff0000;">!</span></span></strong></span></p>anno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34159884.post-31210622667229894972007-12-21T16:58:00.000+00:002007-12-25T17:28:38.131+00:00Winter in the garden<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW4kvYCCJCcCPWAZ48xyHvJaf6cbOMaHfeoQ03bApkTlUxtp9_0BbliDL1MD8pFqIc1aMz03QGgxBCgF0TQnAW8_FXg3EaZCjyPLWkK6vd67KmmV9SV65RAayXS0sUKfpwBgvB/s1600-h/frosted+garden+dec07+002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146472265393715890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW4kvYCCJCcCPWAZ48xyHvJaf6cbOMaHfeoQ03bApkTlUxtp9_0BbliDL1MD8pFqIc1aMz03QGgxBCgF0TQnAW8_FXg3EaZCjyPLWkK6vd67KmmV9SV65RAayXS0sUKfpwBgvB/s320/frosted+garden+dec07+002.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">I think that the garden is just as pretty in its frosted winter clothing as it is in the summer!</span></div><br /><div align="center"><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;"><em>At Christmas I no more desire a rose</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;"><em>Than wish a snow in May’s new-fangled mirth;</em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;"><em>But like of each thing that in season grows.</em></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;"><em>- <strong><span style="font-size:78%;">William Shakespeare ('Love's Labour's Lost')</span></strong></em></span></div>anno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34159884.post-11223943427436853232007-12-17T17:45:00.000+00:002007-12-25T17:29:27.741+00:00Countdown to Christmas<div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ObiE2X7FLuPzJsigdcLSKUqbhwCNgmYiDX7ylXssDkIO0gxlFGI5uN35L5txY2TwxH9SjbsEd2cQnhm9Gaz2KWIqOLDLqBuLqh-FULqa1M7uuXXQoiXswepcHqwheX3KUT_Y/s1600-h/xmas+scene+b%26w.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146172257633122962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ObiE2X7FLuPzJsigdcLSKUqbhwCNgmYiDX7ylXssDkIO0gxlFGI5uN35L5txY2TwxH9SjbsEd2cQnhm9Gaz2KWIqOLDLqBuLqh-FULqa1M7uuXXQoiXswepcHqwheX3KUT_Y/s200/xmas+scene+b%26w.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;">Haven't blogged much recently - been preoccupied with other things. So I've taken the easy way out and posted some photos!</span><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="color:#000099;">Christmas at the Garden Centre:</span><br /></span><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGBerdpl_yoEcN5dPVsnXesy4cQep977KliDb28T9nNqx79SsB8eUDRiaXkMQ-cpkDk9unuGQZNRb6lOGne17vf0Gvlm6xEXHhEajn7TOcVcUOazoOhWQ2xzdhiZZ9Cj8f6kNL/s1600-h/Todd+Crag+%26+pots.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144999740151249442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGBerdpl_yoEcN5dPVsnXesy4cQep977KliDb28T9nNqx79SsB8eUDRiaXkMQ-cpkDk9unuGQZNRb6lOGne17vf0Gvlm6xEXHhEajn7TOcVcUOazoOhWQ2xzdhiZZ9Cj8f6kNL/s320/Todd+Crag+%26+pots.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145003541197306482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA41LKmCEXc-TPiHIXhkR684jDk19ZRpMcfmJr-2P0uOptwtGKitvi2nekeWATCLKqqgOPDwSo0-pVGU_ej_mFprC3GCNo5J-utJphtjiM7P6OzF8Lm_xNLVTgJPePS4D7TrfR/s320/Hayes+at+Xmas.+2+002.jpg" border="0" /> <span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Pots with Todd Crag in the background</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145000088043600434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRHfQbTYo1S1Rmsxh0w99ip_EKa3FFPBpV4xZi6wSqnA2D_5fkKy3d-FdHTM4dx7P1KzeoGY_2tZMn0r49bZlCR3hyphenhyphenDTgmykpXKXSSjFxdqw4JMYRj_vyesoBC4qrcjebEZ4ED/s320/frosted+plants.JPG" border="0" /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Frosted plants</span></span></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145001552627448386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipiembRBclpgqr22cFbobd1ibnw-B95vZ0R3-qr0KnAq3vsrirk808_s0l3AlPyXJpzDjn1LLmKGf3mQvjk7hYjnWAYS4WOF9J0iG0kactGu0J4u5PATei-yfkkRFkfNQAC_kM/s320/entry+to+winter+wonderland.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;">The entry to 'Winter Wonderland'</span><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;"><br /></span><br /></p><br /><br /><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145002188282608210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPfsH8H2soKA8SY4aFaD0VqgJ7DMPJxm1PWhjbvLR4QZTNuaBVHCbLPJNbiR0IqZTDSK9Fx6RfQdCEYU7H0KW0Q4MZcTyvgj0_p3H21JmJBuxv9fzHnhoSoC5XwSXReeBwq9L3/s320/poinsettias.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;">Poinsettias</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;"></span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145002553354828386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQxlwxWI0QrPCwNdI-AE7FSefgfAdwReZK47hyphenhyphenD6FvtIY7whLzmH515gs4rVmfhhVLtAa9EVKeVP2dSF7LnqYRVlvo3jxS80iTFe0SGlXcj-6rmhXj5JNqaYS33zA4a8cMzA5U/s320/xmas+display+1.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;">Decorations</span><br /><br /></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Here is John Betjeman's take on Christmas preparations:</span></p><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">And how, in fact, do we prepare</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">The great day that waits us there -</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">For the twenty-fifth day of December,<br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">The birth of Christ? For some it means</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">An interchange of hunting scenes</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">On coloured cards, And I remember</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Last year I sent out twenty yards,</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Laid end to end, of Christmas cards</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">To people that I scarcely know -</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">They'd sent a card to me, and so </span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">I had to send one back. Oh dear!</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Is this a form of Christmas cheer?</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Or is it, which is less surprising,</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">My pride gone in for advertising?</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">The only cards that really count</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Are that extremely small amount</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">From real friends who keep in touch</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">And are not rich but love us much</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Some ways indeed are very odd</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">By which we hail the birth of God.</span></span></div><div align="center"><br /><span style="color:#000099;"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">We raise the price of things in shops,</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#000099;"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">We give plain boxes fancy tops</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#000099;"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">And lines which traders cannot sell</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#000099;"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Thus parcell'd go extremely well</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#000099;"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">We dole out bribes we call a present</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#000099;"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">To those to whom we must be pleasan</span></span><span style="color:#000099;"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">t</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#000099;"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">For business reasons. Our defence is</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#000099;"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">These bribes are charged against expenses</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#000099;"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">And bring relief in Income Tax</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#000099;"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Enough of these unworthy cracks!</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#000099;"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">'The time draws near the birth of Christ'.</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#000099;"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">A present that cannot be priced</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#000099;"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Given two thousand years ago</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#000099;"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Yet if God had not given so</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#000099;"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">He still would be a distant stranger</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#000099;"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">And not the Baby in the manger.</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#000099;"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><em><span style="font-size:78%;">from 'Advent 1955'</span></em><br /></div></span><p align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146172047179725442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRASHsQdyDF88ewi932IwbkszNaDLVe9nfshyphenhyphenGuc4Ez685dQX9rEQzwKbrJcOoafRD772aUB9T9O1sYb9HVIHT2DCAjqD8SeGpr7e27d5yCbHAtnaR96P4c2bw72hrVDtHLwmQ/s200/mistletoe+bunch.JPG" border="0" /></span></p>anno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34159884.post-64095506451194370342007-11-11T16:40:00.000+00:002007-11-11T16:56:48.219+00:00Lads in their hundreds....<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTpFTKR3DAPWYe_DJ7AFQo4I-_xkkxfQhp076U9UduKYB3tZI3vSxByUQqzMKodKFMxvW7QGC81gBKYRC28NVzWU5GES5Ol4L6t1244w8V9-fge4IW86A5DZPJBVxZuG2UQKrt/s1600-h/merrygoround+trim.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131625896730413506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTpFTKR3DAPWYe_DJ7AFQo4I-_xkkxfQhp076U9UduKYB3tZI3vSxByUQqzMKodKFMxvW7QGC81gBKYRC28NVzWU5GES5Ol4L6t1244w8V9-fge4IW86A5DZPJBVxZuG2UQKrt/s320/merrygoround+trim.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:78%;"><em><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">image: Fairground Heritage Trust</span></em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">The lads in their hundreds to Ludlow come in for the fair,<br />There's men from the barn and the forge and the mill and the fold,<br />The lads for the girls and the lads for the liquor are there,<br />And there with the rest are the lads that will never be old.<br /><br /><br />There's chaps from the town and the field and the till and the cart,<br />And many to count are the stalwart, and many the brave,<br />And many the handsome of face and the handsome of heart,<br />And few that will carry their looks or their truth to the grave.<br /><br /><br />I wish one could know them, I wish there were tokens to tell<br />The fortunate fellows that now you can never discern;<br />And then one could talk with them friendly and wish them farewell<br />And watch them depart on the way that they will not return.<br /><br /><br />But now you may stare as you like and there's nothing to scan;<br />And brushing your elbow unguessed-at and not to be told<br />They carry back bright to the coiner the mintage of man<br />The lads that will die in their glory and never be old.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"></span><br /><br /><em><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#000099;">from 'A Shropshire Lad' A. E. Housman</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#000099;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#000099;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#000099;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#000099;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131626515205704146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ0_8v8VhMMIAYrxfgQ9xjfgJNnfGcR5C-5JTZ3EAsg1-vWJUSVGMRcLL8GjsSiPjUJoFGl0ODPKCIUQD5YDgfWWcF5SoXQGjC3OStMoxIbe76S2vmUxQlD15WKvLIiDUAVMVp/s320/flanders+fields.,crosses+poppies.jpg" border="0" /></span></em><br /><br /><p></p><p></p>anno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34159884.post-77774154021645344382007-07-29T17:13:00.000+01:002007-07-30T21:22:10.684+01:00A walk for the Sunday Papers<span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Off to get the papers -<br /></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">down the road, past the cottages:</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092660180028122162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgAagFVnt6z9LzCDejSOztFq8iNqaUr79qHr0AA7LfUDGszFYRFjeCR_Of49Kz2rb-_2_KNTaaKd9h9r166Ez3FKVPz35bj4aU4D1705-qNu8ZRXGpfSTisvHTYG81yDzWvL1l/s320/sunday+walk+10June+015.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Along the Lane, and across the end of the Green:</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092671733490148530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMvnMdNoXtzSX_8Vy_27MShTEzk-QmAJjtypz60J8ruGPP3rk4C8uyb268Rcrt_PLRRz1DNQapsdDziR7-GDkrrKTbbBudKS0eeZqhSPbC6AKFBNWTnyBjnbAl2wTm24GoZz-l/s320/walk+for+papers+%2B+beans+019.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Enjoy the plants peeping over the high walls: </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"></span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092664457815549058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQicJHNztZRZNWULL5Ih0xzWcWQILmiOzgfqUr-Qa_tZTwa0u6c_DUiKo5JfxExFz3BkFC6sYVUs2RzNsXQDsvUl9ijawx9-B6FPoQZXhieFnlVNEhnJxhUnl758znlToFr2XU/s320/walk+for+papers+%2B+beans+018.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Along the road to the newsagent's on the corner: </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"></span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092665673291293858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlhs3gYMEonXbwIIKEz4UsRl58w9-J_6r2o7LiqmRAhE0nPxmd75bmowrCajYZ2WxWMH6Fj7LRWq6P2nGRSLCDBBi78oqjSINHUoZtNxdu6hcpxPBXGcLagwJ88BPj6yxFVwdc/s320/walk+for+papers+%2B+beans+023.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">and into the newsagent's shop to buy the papers:<br /></span><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikC98i-TYE4uFiNh3vRVFiLIabcB8ZfC8lWN-c1JAUmf58C2OXfxwJaL28nakeA8Bi2cOgRYY-uSL3BHdldKwahLpB_LVga3QH6HO2wVPe3SosuhnWCh_6Kau55eSEQrcE5s1r/s1600-h/paper+shop+trim.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092663817865421938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikC98i-TYE4uFiNh3vRVFiLIabcB8ZfC8lWN-c1JAUmf58C2OXfxwJaL28nakeA8Bi2cOgRYY-uSL3BHdldKwahLpB_LVga3QH6HO2wVPe3SosuhnWCh_6Kau55eSEQrcE5s1r/s320/paper+shop+trim.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><br /><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Back past the Green:<br /></span></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092665256679466130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhoL8Yt36zZ3UR6-bKKilGVDN3Lb28IjFMEb03pieOo7FIiHDcgzFyzBUlq2UwBcUXDqy2W34DdjTNB49edD1Tfl2k6Suv0DQ2rUkRytXIQFazVI_fvpOHQ1-Q84U3ZKE4WvS5/s320/walk+for+papers+%2B+beans+022.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Along the road that slopes down from the Green to our little fell: </span></div><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"><br /></div></span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092660476380865602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsPseU4ul_-KE9mk4B9DoZHJ_B7gzUbfmOFlzNSQNMUd4OLBO3Dpys8wjTNKH60Kk-R2nxzKFfE0VkdtpiMKWloPU7k8DoDHU5rHGtZejE7mxN6TnerZeg-5Uv5YcV9uctizME/s320/emp+rd.+looking+towards+the+town.+trim.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Through the gap in the stone walls - a type of stile known as a 'Fat Man's Agony':</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"></span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092661000366875730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil_3OUdJkfXbqpOUh_kBuqTiYG8tWxBIzpHwhqlolVyQfvM3y9ZmKp56oSn9u6GW3wkUyH_Y9ylPO5sXliZw2PGTNtodYAQMbuZyEYmn8qBQQ7lvCus-2yl71Txawje2ry-HT0/s320/sunday+walk+10June+008.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Down through Prickly Fell:<br /></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUCv85ccMXq3tiILl-Cb19z3eddfof2yDs3b8PVqaB1FjXZDajcpLKlvuBmLmLhdMQE1aky84hXtwDydQxnXDZJSo7c-lZtgIvzeDY1zPz84-7vJIS9DBTMFCUTg8CoHcQHVKq/s1600-h/prickly+fell.+trim.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092661399798834274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUCv85ccMXq3tiILl-Cb19z3eddfof2yDs3b8PVqaB1FjXZDajcpLKlvuBmLmLhdMQE1aky84hXtwDydQxnXDZJSo7c-lZtgIvzeDY1zPz84-7vJIS9DBTMFCUTg8CoHcQHVKq/s320/prickly+fell.+trim.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Back down the road - admiring the campanulas en route :<br /></span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093081945816589506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxyXZoHOx5deTdM3nzZS9s7zJn5bX08L3Tx06jk-3M7wLkzpp0nswlT7FtVWschYIxiiOoxFXJid6lwfksLqYhevWitiiRAhVzToy4j4eCal5ZsDANpRg_SPgkY31isl8oGAKi/s320/sunday+walk+10June+016.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Home again - and the pleasing prospect of an afternoon with the Sunday Papers:<br /></span><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092653698922472482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDQC1c35Pn6gIc3F0zBJsHwdcN10bBmdrNZRz6dKHP1IyzvbmDY8qGvLOtN3Inofj3858k2mownN_y-SzXxe7QrfABimWAg2MUuU3bvBMx_jpZjL7ZYgeVvBQcSz-2e_GlFt1P/s320/walk+for+papers+%2B+beans+027.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><br /><div></div></div></div>anno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34159884.post-51365272265110092022007-07-15T18:17:00.000+01:002007-07-15T18:31:35.195+01:00A Tale of Two Tubs<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF8t4l4-YipaIVAfOchRLX_hmkFZORol4LZWlmFuYUKHPainMoN30KU4kgdRtdRIuQsQRAxvVfQD2OKyC_srqw0O3tym3npcKKRwwAuQP91wcS8sR1z9klX46bFk4e22eZoaWp/s1600-h/beans+trim.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087474940973887586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF8t4l4-YipaIVAfOchRLX_hmkFZORol4LZWlmFuYUKHPainMoN30KU4kgdRtdRIuQsQRAxvVfQD2OKyC_srqw0O3tym3npcKKRwwAuQP91wcS8sR1z9klX46bFk4e22eZoaWp/s400/beans+trim.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">I bought two packs of runner beans (the labels did not indicate the variety) and planted them - 8 in the larger black tub (left) and 5 in the green tub on the right.</span></div><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">The difference is their growth is remarkable; I think I placed new compost in the black tub and used last year's compost in the green. But I didn't think it would make <em>this</em> much difference!</span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;">Weird?!</span></div>anno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34159884.post-15101004043535742452007-07-02T21:35:00.000+01:002007-08-07T09:23:05.090+01:00Compare & Contrast<div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">I came across an old wedding photo the other day and thought that it was interesting to compare it with one from my son's recent wedding:</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;"></span><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082701389204910098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMkpMBoH3XZ27s80wJUb0-xR1tIN2UIrWkjWDRMagBYREmlQtB6N2iHlwzMVHlFhbTNQ_UFfUrzLXhNYEzxqD1got6f8W_mpGskw4Ryk_psMIYfNgJoMQ7LgKS08PgSau5IgGq/s320/jont+weedding+party+trim.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;"></span><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;">April 2007</span></p><div align="left"><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">This old photo (below) is the wedding party for the marriage of my husband’s grandparents in London, 1899. Sadly no one thought to write the names of the participants on the back, so we only know the names of the bride and groom (pictured centre left). </span></div><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;">Little did they know what lay ahead.</span></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082701805816737826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 451px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 314px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="293" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLtvFYBjCSxsQImUbGWl77iX5n1vmY7Ameo6b1nE4BaAb5JjTEZXQpz4dV4rjxitactIiFEan8ZhJPpzdhylxZvhCe1oWaMK3SvnzE2sCBlh0EZiOJWlw71FwEQ2bO3NqByN1e/s400/sharpe.read+wedding+1899+extra+trim.JPG" width="430" border="0" /></p><p><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Tragically the bride and groom were both killed, many years later in the second World War: in a particularly heavy bombing raid (16th April, 1941) during the London blitz, the family home was bombed. (My husband’s father was blinded, but husband (then aged 5) and his mother were protected by a wardrobe which tipped over and sheltered them from falling debris.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"><br />The members of the party all look rather severe - probably because of the long exposure time for photography in those days.</span></p><p></p>anno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34159884.post-6689394822037484132007-06-29T14:44:00.000+01:002007-07-03T18:49:37.753+01:00Bags of Common Sense<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVtDmlmrxdHZ8BMgncTfCuW7sg2aA2dnx908gsyLBQXJHX7l83QGUt1_LS-E8tbQSUfdgS2z4AYuB_YlLKhQzVR2VEDw-pAxSiz50KqlhPEvkGB4uEyCbYootkY_L1O1UfHdJK/s1600-h/not+plstic+bag.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5081482026514739186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 95px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 120px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="154" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVtDmlmrxdHZ8BMgncTfCuW7sg2aA2dnx908gsyLBQXJHX7l83QGUt1_LS-E8tbQSUfdgS2z4AYuB_YlLKhQzVR2VEDw-pAxSiz50KqlhPEvkGB4uEyCbYootkY_L1O1UfHdJK/s200/not+plstic+bag.jpg" width="135" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">I have noticed all the fuss in the press about this designer bag on sale at Sainsbury's for around £5 - some stores reported that they had sold out of the bags within an hour. The bag was then reported to be selling on eBay for up to £200 </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">How about a little common sense.</span></div><div><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">This bag is supplied by our local Booths supermarket. It is made of jute and is said to be ‘climate neutral', and comes with a useful insert should you wish to use it for carrying bottles. And all for £2.49. I think it beats the designer version hollow!</span></div><br /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5081483585587867650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8idLW-vxxw00trTPgRGcKkOVcQHrWlsfeQRgY8GZmUnLWKBIeLMSHGqVXSjXGID79ZC3KAMtwt6XyrTSdUykHu-O8ZVMRfEgNVLK_czy3gvlxFJCplCglmcgAimFg3X3STmnb/s400/booths+bag.+bright+trim.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Good old Booths! (n.b. no apostrophe these days!)</span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"></span> </div><div><span style="color:#000099;">More here: </span><span style="color:#000099;"> </span><a href="http://www.booths-supermarkets.co.uk/assets/news/20070427_Bags.html"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;">http://www.booths-supermarkets.co.uk/assets/news/20070427_Bags.html</span></a></div>anno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34159884.post-69889823261763474262007-06-20T21:49:00.000+01:002007-06-21T15:15:59.642+01:00A garden in June<table id="HB_Mail_Container" height="100%" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" width="100%" border="0" unselectable="on"><tbody><tr height="100%" unselectable="on" width="100%"><td id="HB_Focus_Element" valign="top" width="100%" background="" height="250" unselectable="off"><br /><div align="left"><span style="color:#000099;">Some</span><span style="color:#000099;"> pictures of my garden:</span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#000099;"></span> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078256671153867090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinDIT88aaHvouXxZVm3t7_a1kRRSEBaJdQFXdE_PsHr9tpcxR5AzgH3MlR0OTjjcNc0TMLiR6-UOnPnVnH6WC0BvrLuDdW4wXDdm8t1dJMZPEu0uxxfqVxAOT03GxSLt9zM5Rl/s400/garden+overview+trim.JPG" border="0" /></div></td></tr><tr unselectable="on" hb_tag="1"><td style="FONT-SIZE: 1pt" height="1" unselectable="on"><div id="hotbar_promo"> </div></td></tr></tbody></table><blockquote id="9f0c86a0"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinDIT88aaHvouXxZVm3t7_a1kRRSEBaJdQFXdE_PsHr9tpcxR5AzgH3MlR0OTjjcNc0TMLiR6-UOnPnVnH6WC0BvrLuDdW4wXDdm8t1dJMZPEu0uxxfqVxAOT03GxSLt9zM5Rl/s1600-h/garden+overview+trim.JPG"><br /><p align="center"></a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;">Geranium 'Johnson's Blue' with the white philadelphus peeping through </span><br /></p><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiPJguk8JjkrTHu2wwyINgu3QCkbWbZ4EQZQO9jNo1NXWL5DjJie12G6SbcUvMYvxpG82hoWsibKtp5nH4oOgvQA4BR56guM8ZdUUqUd2bcQrWnhO0yTSxQUC1TAVUZbnPDtlj/s1600-h/geranium+J%27s+blue+20June07+010.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078253600252250402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiPJguk8JjkrTHu2wwyINgu3QCkbWbZ4EQZQO9jNo1NXWL5DjJie12G6SbcUvMYvxpG82hoWsibKtp5nH4oOgvQA4BR56guM8ZdUUqUd2bcQrWnhO0yTSxQUC1TAVUZbnPDtlj/s400/geranium+J%27s+blue+20June07+010.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#000099;">A bee visits</span></span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWPWzBQUx2zG-XzAH5Pk7ITya2hXDSWwapSslh_kZyGjnq9Zm_RZ-LgjX2_G2102-trUSfmtphE-CNE6ui4SCbDawQS89pSzjnjWvgNKp45b92zkqL0thdu3ujSoqI1kaHoUvg/s1600-h/bee+on+geranium.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078253144985717010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWPWzBQUx2zG-XzAH5Pk7ITya2hXDSWwapSslh_kZyGjnq9Zm_RZ-LgjX2_G2102-trUSfmtphE-CNE6ui4SCbDawQS89pSzjnjWvgNKp45b92zkqL0thdu3ujSoqI1kaHoUvg/s400/bee+on+geranium.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;">Carpet rose</span></div><br /><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078252874402777346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ8Uap1LFRcFl0VlcG3bAxUbWU-AZx9NpZvSydsoAAptSrZIAnTTc6-S1thLC_vZuKOW7c_0Xolfz1u9naTattsRYEexq1X1ZI_ykAx8uebWe4lr2-TCX49nLAdfNv9Iwc8JO4/s400/carpet+rose+20June07+007.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;">Weigela<br /></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJxh6NwM6jNkbPQJ2T9BxNQUfN6KDU-fF_QvhtBvEHe_2nAM12-uU9C5nivElU6zjk4TJrQznl-ShF7mtnNf51RGdjKyqEfebLx6F1sigrOGG1aUeeDsR02rXI5xVEGxZWIfhi/s1600-h/weigela+june07+002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078252191502977266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJxh6NwM6jNkbPQJ2T9BxNQUfN6KDU-fF_QvhtBvEHe_2nAM12-uU9C5nivElU6zjk4TJrQznl-ShF7mtnNf51RGdjKyqEfebLx6F1sigrOGG1aUeeDsR02rXI5xVEGxZWIfhi/s400/weigela+june07+002.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#000099;">'Masquerade' rose</span> </span><br /></div><br /><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078513828025747826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM235i0ImF1prZ8b6Fp1cCEx4l_XBBZZnMO1Fm_k9LLsqk4jWD1ujV3Md8t37CzyqonY9sOx74Kz-7wJof9JuZO7LYmbBwg2mEbsTMj2aSUV-3rF-u8OhIgYbuazhHCJ8q7Kal/s400/masquerade+june07+006.jpg" border="0" /></div><br /></div></blockquote><br /><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;">Welsh Poppy</span></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078516911812266370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaXZFacMg1sbwgjbgXFvzFuUY5joSOcKer9HskDRGO9ujEogEsmvVoIMhdxytOsZXTRfIXtvTYIzShLNLFFfZ0CJAJRo-PCQyr_aSs1SRne8tpffhaQykTCh1P7vKWlTMvnik7/s400/welsh+poppy+june07+008.jpg" border="0" /><br /><p><span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"></span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;">This is a self-seeding poppy. I dead-head it every other day, cutting off the stems which have finished flowering. Then it throws out more and more flowers right until the first frosts. A modest but worthwhile little plant.</span></p>anno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34159884.post-16141163526925422302007-06-09T08:45:00.000+01:002008-01-03T10:40:22.878+00:00The Flat-Cart<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzHrDa7qVFwS3k_PRH9_1rW7uQrOyPb3kMFNpEIiQ52Nqd_XDDVHd0HuolUHcnYBTceMZcOD0IJKOoRxK3fsFUsMqbOOct4HvJrCSddPss1r9HCjzjxGjOIuBSj6tCXwE7h3BJ/s1600-h/Cottage+by+the+Sea+header+pic.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5073972883657738450" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 112px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 73px" height="87" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzHrDa7qVFwS3k_PRH9_1rW7uQrOyPb3kMFNpEIiQ52Nqd_XDDVHd0HuolUHcnYBTceMZcOD0IJKOoRxK3fsFUsMqbOOct4HvJrCSddPss1r9HCjzjxGjOIuBSj6tCXwE7h3BJ/s200/Cottage+by+the+Sea+header+pic.jpg" width="200" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;"><strong>Allonby - a Cottage by the Sea. 4</strong></span></div><br /><div align="left"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;">The Flat-Cart</span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5073972617369766082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlzymxgiKjjWnnezU81gnNTCFcUetcM6QG6l5HZbecPOnkb8m9WoEqEwiwv_fWenMm1vkpBPsHKOYSWPYixqi6FIWEMYkmzaTGGLM6E4RoUeRPTES5vuUdGvIA8iLS2vFCFIPm/s400/allonby+%26+beach+from+air+trim.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">‘I’m going down to Edderside with the flat-cart.’ Mrs. Tomlinson shouted. ‘You kids want to come along?’ </span><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"><br /><br />Mrs. Tomlinson was a Londoner who spent her summers at Allonby helping out at the riding school, booking and saddling up and taking the rides. I never once saw her wearing anything other than her rust-coloured jodhpurs, green tweed riding jacket and black velveteen riding hat. We marvelled at her exotic London accent. ‘Eow, come on,’ she’d yell when we moaned about the rain ‘It’s only gonna be a sheower’ (We imitated those London vowels gleefully.) She was always accompanied by her dog, Pindy, a black Scottie who usually rode in the basket of his owner’s ‘sit-up-and-beg’ bicycle<br /><div align="left"><br />A ride on the flat-cart! The others were not to be told twice. My sister ran to the cottage and informed our mother that we were going. I, as ever, had doubts. The flat-cart was another danger to me. It was indeed flat, but it sloped downwards front to back. It had no sides, and there was nothing for passengers to hold on to. I had ridden on it once of twice before, but just for short distances, and I had felt very insecure. It seemed to me that one stayed on the thing by some strange form of gravity which I did not trust. </div><div align="left"><br />But I was swept along by the enthusiasm of the others - they couldn’t wait. Mrs. Tomlinson patted Jimmy Mac, the trotter (he could trot very fast without breaking into a canter) and threw her dog, Pindy, onto the cart where he settled down happily. We all scrambled aboard. Mrs. Tomlinson took the reins, her legs dangling over the side. A couple of the others sat along the sides legs dangling in imitation. I sat as near to the middle of the cart as I could, crouching with my legs tucked under me, trying to find a fingerhold, but found I had to real purchase anywhere. </div><div align="left"><br />Mrs. T. shook the reins and clucked at Jimmy Mac who set off, soon breaking into his customary trot. </div><div align="left"><br />We were on the road now, and Jimmy Mac’s hooves sound sharp and staccato , like bullet shots. The others chatted excitedly. We were soon clear of the village, and the safety of home was receding fast. Edderside was only about 3 miles out of the village, but everything familiar had been left behind and the countryside was alien. </div><div align="left"><br />Every so often the cart would lurch a little and I would feel myself slipping towards the back. I clung on, praying we would get there. Eventually we reached the farmhouse, where Mrs. T. went about her business (I don’t remember what it was). The others were fired up with the joy of their adventure, laughing and shouting. My throat was dry, but I pretended to join in. Then, as Mrs. T. reappeared I realised my torment was to begin again.</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5073977578056992994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiThDzb-otBHdgdw6wpb7pqSbfEZb1wTunfEzBMWScoLjE7Qs9tiIFvRo8e-fZSUwA0M-3x9h5nMBnZnMabMlKnzkMpvkJDlPbcead3Arqi34-deADZU16QRwBp2mwYdMDgXdfW/s200/swedish+grain+cart.gif" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="color:#000099;">Once again I clung on. The dusk was gathering now, the blue-grey sky cool and threatening. I crouched and dug my nails into one of the gaps between the slats of the cart, picking up a splinter or two. I hoped fervently that I would get back alive. Didn’t the others appreciate the danger? Didn't they realise that we could slither off this swaying fairground-ride and dash our skulls to pieces on the tarmac? They were still prattling on merrily, completely unconcerned , legs swinging nonchalantly and arms waving excitedly. But I was in a state of fear, slipping a milimeter further towards the edge at every trotting step.. I could see the road flashing by through the cracks between the slats. I slid a little further down the cart. I could see how the back dipped with the weight of us all and almost scraped the ground . <em>Just get me home</em>, I prayed , <em>Get me home</em></span></span><br /><div align="left"><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Of course, we all got back to the village safely. And I see myself on this photograph, kneeling happily on the flat-cart, looking blissfully confident. Nobody knew how filled with a myriad of fears I was - fear of the horses, fear of riding, fear of being too far from home, fear of falling off the flat-cart…</span><span style="font-family:arial;"><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">But there I am - grinning happily. If they only knew.</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5073969937310173362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaVEQfRYhK1BL3vpvdxECt1_ps8AdsUeCmC8zCkehzG7EbHKMVR1E4abXjwIUUTilGqLuh4jO4K5vRC4wL1E7AAXUKIQS_mQ3cnEiALNluDeP_iTHBfHCqM5v6Xce8eK4EjuZl/s400/The+Flat+Cart.JPG" border="0" /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;">Jimmy Mac and the Flat-Cart.</span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;color:#000099;">Back row, l to r: Me, sister Pat, Dot with 'Pindy'</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;color:#000099;">Front row: Elaine with 'Chummy', Jackie, Isa</span> </div></div>anno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34159884.post-32525056422530516642007-06-04T08:31:00.000+01:002007-06-04T08:35:26.702+01:00Ambleside - 2<span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Some more photos of Ambleside, taken on Wednesday.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">The House on the Bridge -<span style="font-size:85%;"> built around 300 years ago this has been described as a Garden House, a Summer House and an apple store. It is built over the Stock Ghyll, some have said to avoid land tax. Stock Ghyll ran between the gardens of the old Ambleside Hall (no longer there) and its orchard. It is said that at one time a family with 6 children lived in the two rooms!</span></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071185669630584914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYjkW_qZyO0QKcCkqwaIFsj3qiSOULK84XPmONECV7LrRrV19uSeCJaaBwd91DT_AGj3R02BSlKMsQDTnfnZQ59w68fuwTpfp5-13c9N7A2GovynsmNWCQMof7H7fsrVfndJ42/s400/Ambleside+May07+046.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;">The old mill wheel</span><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3TqYCSvjm6iOvKOgXlLCEH2HRIqQakrJgyUvYpEYKs0UY4KNyNYTGL567PBT-i2A6MtiGIy6LHbomNXKs5kCrS1FMoAkDogLOq_yRLBzlFh9haEynt9Z1801E9HHDC6DlCreB/s1600-h/Ambleside+May07+049.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071192520103422178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3TqYCSvjm6iOvKOgXlLCEH2HRIqQakrJgyUvYpEYKs0UY4KNyNYTGL567PBT-i2A6MtiGIy6LHbomNXKs5kCrS1FMoAkDogLOq_yRLBzlFh9haEynt9Z1801E9HHDC6DlCreB/s400/Ambleside+May07+049.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;">Garden alongside Stock Ghyll</span><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071185244428822594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JW2CnoIC_wWVf2evOUkeI1nzXJ-tl2yWY5L8eLaPnhoq6Kuo7XC_9VDjR3jt0-VsygCdH2O31i5hTxu0FpyrZ5B3PjZBV8l7aOgCgigXCZlLtKj7Qf8qO4miBRM8QUgYzWi_/s400/Ambleside+May07+041.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;">The Apple Pie Eating House</span></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071184123442358322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWgg2vh6csFffO8CwfbsAdU6STxJCEAe6AaUiNdQsQQYOuks1BoVwdW7pJHVT4PbUKSdVFMfsWdGeZJfEB7TqCSJ411hApgnLtb64P7FY-t0DsIWvAnJnguuHCfjNKixahS9kL/s400/Ambleside+cafe+trim.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;">Old cottages in Ambleside:</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Lotpo0g9uAivEjxkYtZP_BVxLLoOsNjQob1wOqta1tfFHsovTkFLo6-UIhQYnyD0p6TqeJx2z1xZBGXi-3ruhnhBHt4HKCIG2dogAhbnRXJKvHnd7gTtS9-6gtGpjBIgXJjC/s1600-h/Ambleside+May07+050.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071191755599243474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Lotpo0g9uAivEjxkYtZP_BVxLLoOsNjQob1wOqta1tfFHsovTkFLo6-UIhQYnyD0p6TqeJx2z1xZBGXi-3ruhnhBHt4HKCIG2dogAhbnRXJKvHnd7gTtS9-6gtGpjBIgXJjC/s400/Ambleside+May07+050.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhEbMO06yHYtqxcwsFuGUqmw6OvHO390JMYWq8PP-RzlacpzJJA4LqXf9LhHmx0SiKCs7t0rOlqny1MnV2qq3xp0eP6Q0gWmsOFO4-wtbRw5wyjyFG_WzHuzSEdR6uOSXB7-Tp/s1600-h/Old+House+Ambleside+trim.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071186631703259266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhEbMO06yHYtqxcwsFuGUqmw6OvHO390JMYWq8PP-RzlacpzJJA4LqXf9LhHmx0SiKCs7t0rOlqny1MnV2qq3xp0eP6Q0gWmsOFO4-wtbRw5wyjyFG_WzHuzSEdR6uOSXB7-Tp/s400/Old+House+Ambleside+trim.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071185940213524578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNXyD0qMNcCR17fmY5VHpl0NM7uDn7c3vJOn_BtYDHecyeW0orB4jkjkfr9B7MvGlwmhzF2KujBa2UvW8rg_yVvYUOWE9GUsd89_xOBlAEt1el6giscXsLvl2jeZrlp89p6G9w/s400/Cottage+at+Peggy+Hill+Ambleside+trim.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#000099;">cottages in Peggy Hill</span> </span></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJCRie0QbpYrSNttEfaCarRxUgo5BmRYRR6rWsHSjWCjCx5F3rwiz6hNgvbvM49LWXAk0y1LSTgTz7gp3aobR_YSpO0-427cGJV8MkdF5b7CGnoonWNbDPZqz0wRJ3eKYRJn5H/s1600-h/Peggy+Hill+Cottages+Amleside+trim.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071186288105875570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJCRie0QbpYrSNttEfaCarRxUgo5BmRYRR6rWsHSjWCjCx5F3rwiz6hNgvbvM49LWXAk0y1LSTgTz7gp3aobR_YSpO0-427cGJV8MkdF5b7CGnoonWNbDPZqz0wRJ3eKYRJn5H/s400/Peggy+Hill+Cottages+Amleside+trim.JPG" border="0" /></a> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071187370437634194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF-crx5SlIZzRmoyYZvTSAqVeYJyp7pYLgSSLpbuoL0bIMDBOVOi9KSX1utrudd8E4B7XHAyCHv0OBOcmAFwI5RPf7WvounXZHtf2X11U3HrcUTM0riN57PjMaGBpCdruGo7_Y/s400/Ambleside+May07+055.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071190553008400578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRZj4KPFLoM0gkNcZKTgTZps0-D9uyPqP1FVqHc9-4QR71R7pIEa9MCKi69NvJ3ryvmD_2BMGkpEtBhIRKfzMxdvclem5Xgbqlkp0scB0NIe5q4rr0F94eq0BefPgBQEQhj0Zl/s400/Dwarf+Hall+2+Ambleside+trim.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071187864358873250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrd52tun2mtBT6su4JCTxIDfoqubI6jYOvqaEa-mo92yLp0MP28BzC0S4WORp_vhdLByppG81Nq4ifCSWkAtm_ojvRBLF5w9ePecVxx-hUhS1jrOxldqZf25-H-2sxENdNj4wc/s400/Dwarf+Hall+Ambleside+trim.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071189728374679730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 33px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 2px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="104" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCd3BDf53YTRb7srFIFDVfUe2y53LXfIjBnxW9ZZ783SX2O_BKfCC0aJ8aSO9eASNlfMAb1m0ngitCaGySsLjAnL9IqzMcdOttW36P1TiL-iTHCz3w03QJLFuwY5eJfmTh8zKU/s400/Dwarf+Hall+Ambleside+trim.JPG" width="400" border="0" /></div><br /></div>anno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34159884.post-81746181918388300562007-06-01T20:15:00.000+01:002007-06-01T20:31:37.914+01:00Ambleside - 1<span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">A visit to my favourite Garden Centre, at Ambleside:<br /></span><div align="center"><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;">View from the cafe</span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Cs8-8vIF84o6nzECloqgQbGfeXR0CSDYhWeaUe_HDRu5IIZy64Hitakaj_U3pcKFVBRQ9g6DhJu4M2J2KogFfgDI0zBJSFJKxRY-MxAB_r_4yXM5XXi3NCv3bog5sM1OgSQU/s1600-h/cafe+view+trim.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071177208545011698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Cs8-8vIF84o6nzECloqgQbGfeXR0CSDYhWeaUe_HDRu5IIZy64Hitakaj_U3pcKFVBRQ9g6DhJu4M2J2KogFfgDI0zBJSFJKxRY-MxAB_r_4yXM5XXi3NCv3bog5sM1OgSQU/s400/cafe+view+trim.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;">Wisteria-clad dovecote</span></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071177642336708610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFFrpTV4xAeJTWhCO6O9y8LkK632EBD-ADvTK0_Jq006prHew_V5pCJukDXRuTSiYqDKa4azC5lkBRphfW1kj9vL_JUduDJfWP46ko7KQgs11I8TJfTHsgqRNFnI7DhXEJveVm/s400/Ambleside+May07+013.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div align="center"><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;">Snarker Pike with rosa rugose in the foreground</span><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071178196387489810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN2TFWofVaPPjVByZNchgUTWDQjXRlMHejAYi0e9zPbBHKxRih2_LWKCt_erruEeQQrqmVJHmpDcsbv8tMnfULofKnM2TiQ8C-HQa6Ekeuv_CUewXYv_7M-l7kH8EQIjeZd2J_/s400/snarker+pike+trim.JPG" border="0" /></div><p></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;"></span> </p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;">Todd Crag - with escallonia</span> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071178973776570402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs7fM89ClffT7_tEUIQmrk6ChotlcJ7w7wzpfpy4fU4hN3o9Nl9fk59CryPLKchISm8iRY70xmFn0EqKA7RaI73foUydj_s0Fpn_ZY8A7VgrS4k5fDIUxEO0OWnqRYPnCAjuM8/s400/Ambleside+May07+022.jpg" border="0" /></p>anno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34159884.post-88671277884224627542007-05-23T17:40:00.000+01:002007-06-09T08:43:46.986+01:00'The Girlhood of Anno Domini'<div align="center"><br /></div><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxM95GN729Bu9wIhyphenhyphenxGhG2MzUkbaHbQ7NwPNyyxBy6xb6IzUFtckcTM45QVFHEHltRD6QOwKfyzyqWZ-eC9NwbN8-lnzelPZ58lyyBwBlTEOnGXXsy8DpPzP0phbdJRKxYYo6W/s1600-h/Cottage+by+the+Sea+header+pic.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5068541125122451378" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 91px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 69px" height="151" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxM95GN729Bu9wIhyphenhyphenxGhG2MzUkbaHbQ7NwPNyyxBy6xb6IzUFtckcTM45QVFHEHltRD6QOwKfyzyqWZ-eC9NwbN8-lnzelPZ58lyyBwBlTEOnGXXsy8DpPzP0phbdJRKxYYo6W/s200/Cottage+by+the+Sea+header+pic.jpg" width="148" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>A Cottage by the Sea. 3</strong> - <em>'The Girlhood of Anno Domini'</em></span></span><em><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></em><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Mr. Parsons was a grey-bearded dignified, but vague-looking ex-teacher. Nobody really knew him well. This was less than ten years after the war, and it was rumoured that he was ‘shell-shocked‘. We gathered that that meant mad - or 'screwy' as we would have said then.<br /><br />He lived alone in a bungalow at the southern end of the village. Mr. Parsons was a driver of sorts; the extensive greens that ran the length of Allonby - and beyond - provided him with a road-free route into the centre. His pre-war Austin bounced over the springy rough grass from his home all the way to the square, and the handful of shops. He had ‘L’ plates on the whole time; and so, for his whole life, all his shopping and any social life he had, were carried out without the need for him to suffer the trauma of a driving-test.</span></div><div align="left"></div><p align="left"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5068543753642436546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitdtfjgnPpUP4nyerRrKeny5l5DphV9SN2frA9Zu1mcwPsOuam2ReLssZq31akIJPUGp4lWEFUEbqeMX9bjetDcWyyiRn3A-ZG_5EIlhFjch-fbI6QCFV6OVUSrNRBbSZ5uA9X/s200/mr+parsons+car+trim.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">One day, we met him as he was sitting in the shelter, a strange (usually deserted) open-sided building in the middle of the green. He started to talk to us about the tides, and how they were pulled by the moon. (This was real proof to us that Mr. Parsons was indeed mad) He gestured extravagantly as we gathered round him, in a scene reminiscent of the ‘The Boyhood of Raleigh’.<br /><br />Uneasy about this wild talk, we escaped as soon as we decently could.<br /><br />We went home and told Mum about the weird things Mr. Parsons had told us.<br />‘Oh yes, that's true,' said Mum, sweeping sand from the paving into a neat pile. 'that's absolutely true; the sea is pulled by the moon's gravity' . We were flabbergasted.<br /><br />But we had a new respect for Mr. Parsons.<br /><br /></span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5068544681355372498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZQSkOUtDDVIkz-Nm-iGgCo3ESS6WVVUbGCzssgL-BPUNX-oBd7b3kZKscSOQ37WpMJQ9MuecodoCiaa4j-tvQBeC0jZL1sQ-0rVW2Oz0A1CUGTqeCBKeUMM4J5aOjqpCo09ZL/s200/boyhood+of+raleigh.+millais.jpg" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#000099;">'The Boyhood of Raleigh' </span><em><span style="color:#000099;">Millais<br /></p></span></em></span>anno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34159884.post-92153150177392099522007-04-25T14:42:00.000+01:002007-12-25T17:34:21.635+00:00An Unforgettable Day<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-UobZDdBlHxEQG9xFkwm_j3RfsdIu6ulXsxZ_Z5TlnWLkXufsO-GcyyVAOuHobnST2fVa2f8McYrT6xxCsS4DoTuhh0XsIX-Om-Lnx_CHhsBs8iUXX80hZkAWV_qi8MaRaK73/s1600-h/Jonny+%26+Susie+wedding+086.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058022971572752466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-UobZDdBlHxEQG9xFkwm_j3RfsdIu6ulXsxZ_Z5TlnWLkXufsO-GcyyVAOuHobnST2fVa2f8McYrT6xxCsS4DoTuhh0XsIX-Om-Lnx_CHhsBs8iUXX80hZkAWV_qi8MaRaK73/s200/Jonny+%26+Susie+wedding+086.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">My elder son was married on Easter Day in the Chapel of Trinity College, Cambridge. The weather was kind to us. For the previous week it had been chilly in Cumbria, and I was concerned about the female participants in flimsy summer outfits: I needn't have worried - the sun shone all day. Here are a few photos:</span><br /><br /><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;">Man and Wife</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF74Vp89CBldz_SjDQBlx4HUK-zbWCxTzp0IlBNNxU7p4V6szFCyh8FFINKzEGwudOwqBNRX351vNOH4g4O20DJjws-00dgAKTPRUse-WduQs9KJgy20UIeB1NdEHJ2Np1QFbX/s1600-h/wedding2.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057366073504698402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 2px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 1px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="400" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF74Vp89CBldz_SjDQBlx4HUK-zbWCxTzp0IlBNNxU7p4V6szFCyh8FFINKzEGwudOwqBNRX351vNOH4g4O20DJjws-00dgAKTPRUse-WduQs9KJgy20UIeB1NdEHJ2Np1QFbX/s400/wedding2.JPG" width="2" border="0" /></a><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064887841140248706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-E4Sz3XO7RcHkh6t3vXAh-9Vz08H0Be1Onzdu8ErM_XrI5AXxBviTmG3AvEq0xPd_LuVNtUQIX91mR4Ag995mPGh_BeXs45Sws0gVecvRnv3nrQsBhiZrpvekunTiGXpazeGx/s400/man_wife.JPG" border="0" /> </p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;">Leaving the Chapel</span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057362023350538226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 192px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="170" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkoLqGJ3Pipp3ENLnP-u3X_rns8oWJkNB9cxOEruBPyv_a2G7yQyAA051H1NnLAEbWaALHVsOCjaCDoT5Y6q92Xhrrtf9AY7ofBOHI3SHJZCugpmmdy0oqEtWmZyVSBVgkBmmt/s400/Wedding+Party+in+Great+Court.JPG" width="400" border="0" /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;">Young guests playing 'tag' around the Great Court Fountain (taken from the Hall)</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUmiwXQJ29bt5YdrhTFVzOEpN8Ckfkx-SRwjQScJ7cLsiWDpiflK3obim9lL0byTfN1xbWX3qUTJ6dG1AF4RpalQ13nZHnPL-oPyBnLcNniyzcUgxN3LVxNRINYlbJnS3AnROW/s1600-h/Jonny+%26+Susie+wedding+037.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057365081367253010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUmiwXQJ29bt5YdrhTFVzOEpN8Ckfkx-SRwjQScJ7cLsiWDpiflK3obim9lL0byTfN1xbWX3qUTJ6dG1AF4RpalQ13nZHnPL-oPyBnLcNniyzcUgxN3LVxNRINYlbJnS3AnROW/s400/Jonny+%26+Susie+wedding+037.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;">Bride and Groom at the Wedding Breakfast in the 17th Century Great Hall - presided over by Henry VIII (a copy of the Holbein original)</span> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064844182797684850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdKT-7lZY1kdKnWCxOhyphenhyphenxC0Nc1o9sm6YfxHJZSH8eRZleb8Hv1_zbP_3BAmKDg3_vRvRXL9BdGO8EX8KV568rUkU7v5EG9wGimfna3gdCWDQzWi2Dottmi3RUnXaanyKuRWkvm/s400/couple_henryviii.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;">The first dance<br /></span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057366657620250674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7DimbAVtVMkIFRmLpXflH56nKCoCH3cfRNzlh_GxmdHL2Sm6zpMSdc7-T7mpRbnaliWODG3LxAUcZFn1W6ApTyAaefoySzkmSCWdiJbzTl4mmXl2-98Syl98A9Xif1o6aFFaw/s400/The+First+Dance.JPG" border="0" /> </p><p align="center"><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;"><em>What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined together </em></span><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;"><em>to strengthen each other in all labour, to minister to each other in all sorrow,</em></span><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;"><em>to share with each other in all gladness,to be one with each other in the silent unspoken memories?</em></span><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;color:#000099;"><br />after George Eliot </span><br /></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;color:#000099;"><br /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058163185075097698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE37ors8at9nGKZEkFhDjuyb46fwqVT1YLJaJ4FTpnNaOyLMsuXYcoblpYJVRZY7ieMSIPlDTnHIf1_rRaMLip14RNeMLc0FICPhtKNAXc7wpSLcJcz5cahsNCJ-ZPpgZ494Ph/s400/twilit+gt+ct.JPG" border="0" /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;">A lone bridesmaid wanders across twilit Great Court - the end of a wonderful day! </span></span><span style="color:#000099;"></div></span><br /><div align="center"><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;color:#000099;"></div><p align="right"></span></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057837033848574018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 81px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 30px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="48" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOPHAyZl7ObNCd6Kfq1tCUPFLk1uv1P5cn1PIgCWRMJ0OJSVRGw30eG5M9OS1iIgvDsx37Q0dYjOt3ldFxkHRVRsBT0UBpS_JgsQ2GR33xtUVQrPSKgXXcS7jNfhQ63v8A2gdA/s200/Wedd11.gif" width="137" border="0" />anno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34159884.post-69616671852045990942007-04-19T08:53:00.000+01:002007-12-25T17:34:21.636+00:00Wearing White for Eastertide<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKWCs4ySBY-qxAAm73UoIWmHyk6xQQNMjnq4yzCzZqWWaN5DRFoCYoMSjWbIehxjs_j_N_6kdfkdV5Lv0LerZwwL7bKDW_TsEpy9zNJC38fqm4n6JxlgwEkE1BhMDgeut02j-w/s1600-h/white+cherry+blossom.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5055045224247612386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKWCs4ySBY-qxAAm73UoIWmHyk6xQQNMjnq4yzCzZqWWaN5DRFoCYoMSjWbIehxjs_j_N_6kdfkdV5Lv0LerZwwL7bKDW_TsEpy9zNJC38fqm4n6JxlgwEkE1BhMDgeut02j-w/s320/white+cherry+blossom.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;"><em>Loveliest of trees, the cherry now<br />Is hung with bloom along the bough,</em></span><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;"><em>And stands about the woodland ride<br />Wearing white for Eastertide,</em></span></div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"><em><div align="center"><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Now, of my threescore years and ten,<br />Twenty will not come again,<br />And take from seventy springs a score,<br />It only leaves me fifty more.</span></div><div align="center"><br /><span style="color:#000099;">And since to look at things in bloom<br />Fifty springs are little room,<br />About the woodlands I will go<br />To see the cherry hung with snow.<br /><span style="font-size:78%;">A.E.Housman</span><br /></span></em></span><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="color:#000099;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5055045902852445170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeB3_s8HeDGRHTpBde3BRAy0LPzhHx_6mwuIR2uNKVNP-vUewQ3HMmx6a4E4E18jWsS-mWD0gSVR6qBFwmgAd59quhg0Ghff4fwIToXov5LcHrrUTKtHdqhp0HbKzh9PbVPUts/s320/Jonny+%26+Susie+wedding+120.jpg" border="0" /><br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Spring in my Cumbrian garden. N</span><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">ot cherry, but amelanchier - and in a few fleeting days the blossom will be gone; already it is littering the lawn with its confetti.<br /><br /><br /><br /></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"></span></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5055205289088799746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL3ELIJ7q3vI0xulktYXlKS9qKyUd_JDBcwvy1lT8IRnW6qwZhKkumm6QX6KuYIbketoRpEEtttoiCpgriWKrXzbzMpWeKf8mRU_ieiUDQFIIMPG-J-nLeD4VobsVXAtAdnNY7/s200/forgetmenots.JPG" border="0" /></span></div></div><br /><p><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">And under the tree, self-seeding forget-me-nots revel in their profusion.</span></p><p></p><p></p>anno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34159884.post-10351459997956082822007-04-04T22:40:00.000+01:002007-12-25T17:33:32.783+00:00An Easter Story<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHu2arHLx0-UPsHFq9B_XTcSR2RKH5Rc0KYUyeKcOF6YhBU0hy7pieFOiZnUqbHdDzN4UGEeLa5ClIFc13DjSlI3XsSEvX80IGGlgCe1_JMo7tXhcpbKKTZUiw3Ro3aH7zdpXE/s1600-h/gethsemane.+fra+angelico.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5045981308960180178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHu2arHLx0-UPsHFq9B_XTcSR2RKH5Rc0KYUyeKcOF6YhBU0hy7pieFOiZnUqbHdDzN4UGEeLa5ClIFc13DjSlI3XsSEvX80IGGlgCe1_JMo7tXhcpbKKTZUiw3Ro3aH7zdpXE/s320/gethsemane.+fra+angelico.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="color:#000099;"><em><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">The Arrest of Christ. Fra Angelico</span></em><br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">When they were small, my two sons attended a Church of England primary school, so were familiar with stories from the Bible. One day near Easter, I found them acting out a story they had heard at school. I gathered that it was a scene from the arrest of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, as it involved a lot of jumping on and off the sofa shouting, and waving ‘swords’ (plastic rulers)</span><br /><br /></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">I feel the message had been lost somewhere along the line, as after a while I heard the youngest wail, </span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">‘That's it. I'm <strong>not</strong> going to be Jesus any more’ </span><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">(He threw down his 'sword')</span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">‘I want to be a <strong>goody</strong>’</span></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5047720900403162498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3HXV6SXcRifTrTMJ7XTLh5qaW9gK0HY1CMBTbayk0YZm7kRy4OkWZ6h_Q8mmPRlTdYGtGcmiBnr-gcAuz6UjqeAz6K2zCarPFHKmyHYO3PV4PAFH8AHVkI02o848u-qs4wtbe/s200/boys+%26+St+T%27s+school.JPG" border="0" /></span></div></div><br /><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:180%;color:#6600cc;"><em>Happy Easter!</em></span></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5049544204804164578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhojRmomg583K3s-uQWOKZthKnbm80uNmflweBBPUyIjUOFuMFVHPLhv9hvuYAflOusogXiuvRgEhlzGvCD59Qu82j_AvIeHzEYJxYH79dQ35CyBnWCyA-_bpelar6zzpR-3Nc6/s200/easter+eggs+in+grass+line.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5047769450713476610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 3px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 1px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="10" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqenI6DiM9tLz2_nOAexxxtTSmzOSKFK9vxlDIbV5Cn5p43LkrWzplDWu8vk6cfUM6dJdTxgq3rKQkJFBk17U44VjXHcxq5GZYLjRXMlV-Za20vE5gJIFehJfHc-KOOrXefROq/s200/easter+egg+line.gif" width="106" border="0" /><br /><br /><p align="center"></p>anno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34159884.post-7068843164370850212007-03-30T16:49:00.000+01:002007-03-31T08:38:24.771+01:00'Time-honoured Lancaster'<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-m6UdoMYZAPsmgPmELH8zXdKSdyvFkAs-YGQFbkTsgbHzVgz5v3-BgXOpHNx70GXiFtOkyTVZeg0Bf3knP5EvP-Tb1q2Z9sKQ7CX-BQxZzuMyb4bz3mdPNz4yLe-jdu0l0s2o/s1600-h/John+o%27Gaunt%27s+horseshoe.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5047745832688315810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-m6UdoMYZAPsmgPmELH8zXdKSdyvFkAs-YGQFbkTsgbHzVgz5v3-BgXOpHNx70GXiFtOkyTVZeg0Bf3knP5EvP-Tb1q2Z9sKQ7CX-BQxZzuMyb4bz3mdPNz4yLe-jdu0l0s2o/s200/John+o%27Gaunt%27s+horseshoe.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"><div align="left"><br />I visited Lancaster today, and came across this horseshoe set into the pavement. It represents the place where John of Gaunt’s horse was said to have shed a shoe.</span></div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5047746382444129714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBogj9MEc21kGKbeaedMMf7HQ5XuXlk3ycuICb5V418Jn8yNCFhELZMj2iHgnj8jntdKqBPlXNkfIm-9xCAK5Rj3XTYHUXzwNDyf7AlK5HgV79hkMDrmZC49OI5G3QMLOpGKzu/s200/John+of+Gaunt+%5BBrit.Lib%5D.jpg" border="0" /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-size:85%;">‘Old John of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster’</span> (opening line of Shakespeare’s ‘Richard II’)</span> </em></span></div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"><em><div align="left"><br /><br /></em>John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster (called after his birthplace, Ghent) was born in 1340, and was the third surviving son of King Edward III (He died in 1399) </div><div align="left"><br />Although Shakespeare has one of the witches in ‘Macbeth’ telling Banquo, ‘Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none’ - this could just as easily apply to John of Gaunt. His son was Henry 1V, his grandson Henry V and his great-grandson Henry VI. His illegitimate descendants (who became legitimate after his marriage to his former mistress Katherine Swynford) were known as the Beauforts, and one of them, Margaret, married Edmund Tudor; their son became Henry VII - and so the descent carried on, to Henry VIII and beyond! </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5047746665911971266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhWqqZKW8nLh9LHGIUkepfEgShOK4Fwp8-UvpTd6JOrOP6bxwIRlodiIpwAQSf_vkyPFSsTJ46qeW6p_BtoGuhMjSviJIwVOI766J0yrfYWEa1cN-18n_1S199li_NHVBboo3w/s200/john+o+gaunts+gateway+%2B+castle.gif" border="0" /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">John of Gaunt's Gateway at Lancaster Castle</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">(pity about the caravan!)</span></div><div align="left"><br /><br />John of Gaunt is fortunate to have these famous words (about his country) put into his mouth by Shakespeare (in ‘Richard II’) </div><div align="center"><br /><em>This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle,<br />This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,<br />This other Eden, demi-paradise,<br />This fortress built by Nature for herself<br />Against infection and the hand of war,<br />This happy breed of men, this little world,<br />This precious stone set in the silver sea,<br />Which serves it in the office of a wall,<br />Or as a moat defensive to a house,<br />Against the envy of less happier lands,<br />This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,<br /><br /></em><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5047746820530793938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge4-2re9PtmQKxDZXQ5IQwegRqBWPAMpDXVhUvT4NluP4l372-JDFJIm1JruqiXeUsnZpI2s51RcBuzQzrddoDlVICU3drxkNmWdVPpcThKMkdzo2DPDTNgzZffky98EpBR_iH/s200/John+of+Gaunt+statue+Lancaster+Castle.jpg" border="0" /><span style="font-size:78%;">John of Gaunt - at Lancaster Castle</span><br /><br /><br /></div></span>anno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34159884.post-68636483560357060682007-03-20T17:07:00.000+00:002007-03-26T20:49:17.500+01:00Late Winter or Early Spring?<span style="font-family:arial;color:#336666;"><strong>Some photos taken yesterday:<br /></strong></span><div><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhywuDcduwjfBaGNrhO9Bx8tqW6OjaH3UVSLEQTxdGMG5wLSW2YrH-t_mgk0i4wKW7RYpkbqIy7g_5h81fkcqLjvgHkmjGcIyAiKBqJ35pQUhiSCO58S8rBCkGla-5rxXPkOIYI/s1600-h/snow+on+the+Langdales.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5044055014930438146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhywuDcduwjfBaGNrhO9Bx8tqW6OjaH3UVSLEQTxdGMG5wLSW2YrH-t_mgk0i4wKW7RYpkbqIy7g_5h81fkcqLjvgHkmjGcIyAiKBqJ35pQUhiSCO58S8rBCkGla-5rxXPkOIYI/s400/snow+on+the+Langdales.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Snow-capped Langdale Pikes above Windermere</span><br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5044055328463050770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-U50FQVfTRKWp5PL17fTp8ZvFocPvFWbFy6Me475N3B4KfiSQ-0MBArjjHNPHNKQgOmZT3_M7Ib29bG7xkVqHVEoynntyY9IVjef9DlqNicKMn7asgrGxjq2E09CsEA8C_LR4/s400/Todd+Crag+%2B+daffs+ultra+trim.JPG" border="0" /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Todd Crag from Ambleside</span></div></div><p align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"></span></p><p align="center"></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"></span></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5044055779434616866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1bEi9Td0yZbyzyziP9AbugT4qg9Quf1jgrT_NERA5_jf3Em1oynqcCiidu9mgjY4R0Yop4ZcMmHT9DUlAF_e5hV3wDbvVUy2w2G7jF7ZPnjGwFtK9E4S-UqMp3E2bglgQxTUz/s400/hayes+daffodils+etc+013.jpg" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Daffodils, heathers and (left) corkscrew hazel (corylus avellana 'contorta')</span></p>anno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34159884.post-87376581039885470252007-03-19T20:54:00.001+00:002007-03-19T21:56:00.909+00:00Daffodils<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhor2wPk_C0AboqTONjchbjYJL69sBSfdHcmo6Y_snNATzzkXhGhhTHGsULfeD567Mv4O7UJfiJb8z9lVaL1w1qxZxEHbN87RP9oM8cXoNS2EjQ0CIF5NQb6jhngTMFeSLtRnq0/s1600-h/doras+field+1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043746565861038946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhor2wPk_C0AboqTONjchbjYJL69sBSfdHcmo6Y_snNATzzkXhGhhTHGsULfeD567Mv4O7UJfiJb8z9lVaL1w1qxZxEHbN87RP9oM8cXoNS2EjQ0CIF5NQb6jhngTMFeSLtRnq0/s200/doras+field+1.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;color:#000099;">Dora's field, Rydal. photo: <a href="http://www.visitcumbria.com/tony.htm">Tony Richards</a></span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#000099;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;"><em>'....all at once I saw a crowd<br />A host of golden daffodils;<br />Beside the lake, beneath the trees,<br />Fluttering and dancing in the breeze</em></span> '</span></span></div><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieSEfc53YAqYGDL0Y4_xu8jReN1wQjjv3qKfk0SxtjALQ2ErrRGOhx_p20IGSTPbw6OIw6egu2eQ-FjH1NaTp7h7_YLBitg4LWl6nAKSMDI7qn4PjuuX-0Dgr7P33QkML7eIFR/s1600-h/Gallowberry+framed+heading.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043752918117669778" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 122px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 87px" height="114" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieSEfc53YAqYGDL0Y4_xu8jReN1wQjjv3qKfk0SxtjALQ2ErrRGOhx_p20IGSTPbw6OIw6egu2eQ-FjH1NaTp7h7_YLBitg4LWl6nAKSMDI7qn4PjuuX-0Dgr7P33QkML7eIFR/s200/Gallowberry+framed+heading.jpg" width="200" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;"><strong>From a Georgian Farmhouse- 3</strong></span><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#000099;"></span></strong><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">‘I fancy a drift of daffodils at the near end of the orchard’, said Mum. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Her friend Margaret, who ran the Bellgarth Nurseries in Carlise gave her a large selection of daffodil and narcissus bulbs. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"><br /><br />‘I’ll get Old Ernie to plant them on Saturday,’ said Mum (There were two Ernies - Ernie the Blacksmith, and Old Ernie who came to do the garden.)<br /><br /><br />Old Ernie was a gardener of the ‘Municipal’ type; he liked things ‘just so’. Mum’s front borders were planted with neat and even rows of alternating allysum and lobelia, with scarlet salvias lined up behind them. Patriotic and oh so formal.<br /><br /><br />‘Mmm…something a bit less...well... regimented would be nice,’ murmured Mum. But Old Ernie was in charge.<br /><br /><br />Mum explained what she wanted for the daffs, and Old Ernie planted them. </span><br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"></span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043747665372666738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYRgnUV_j_aYlFAh5UyJYAx9m6jdzVJo-0RuVj7r29QFjOcrcddi6TTcKmp7Cm_k3cvgmjqGOiNpfqqPJP_NSY1dm4RZnSZgAeNklwFm9zkGr3V4ry36Rq1BbfLpZNwP0RdsCj/s200/line+of+grass.png" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"><br />‘Oh, no!’ said Mum when the green blades pushed through the orchard grass in the Spring. ‘O, no! Just look at my daffs,’<br /><br />There they stood, in three immaculately straight lines along the edge of the orchard lawn - like serried ranks of soldiers on parade.<br /><br /><br /><br /></span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043748021854952322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 68px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 77px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="77" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCoBoRYR4dYpSm6Oo6zRa4xlPPge35svH4RaL7npATk_m3RID-TpEVZG90DiBbBpZISjMXqeljvIJtX6LcNQ-nxKelYifoJki-OO02vV7FRxgKVKfOr6gurFRKgF-UKb972br6/s200/line+of+soldiers+trim.JPG" width="79" border="0" /><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">It took Mum several years of surreptitious planting to soften the rows of Old Ernie’s planting scheme. And the result was never quite the ‘drift’ that she had envisaged - but the flowers were pretty all the same. </span></div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"><br /><br /><div align="center"><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043755185860402082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 110px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 162px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="180" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja4QENM22ZbgI-S6b1Cbzu0yXuekSCfr4Tnv_virVngBlMkN-jlKTCnAJ_c3K96mVO-1nn-7YyHYj4x30UheuNjjz_uGbn4z3muO7NSMqzRU5SI45uMV2E3-CqY_Ictp_t-J-5/s200/daffs.jpg" width="150" border="0" /></div><div align="center"><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">‘and then my heart with pleasure fills<br />And dances with the daffodils’</span><br /></em><span style="font-size:78%;">Wordsworth.</span></span></div>anno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34159884.post-47263013216765652632007-03-13T09:04:00.000+00:002007-03-13T09:06:50.222+00:00Dog About Town<div></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#3333ff;">Spotted this young Dog About Town outside our local supermarket.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#3333ff;"></span></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041332849630822002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVGtQ7ah5wpHZC2L89-FGdCqcifXC4hAJ5IYkefOd2r2nRWZJOxwcePi5XsAdH7oSSNnFqAM-Y1mH15hETTVHHhVMuqPdvOVSd-b1Q62PWYHzy83qA4Dsq2RxCni44HQ9dhb9N/s400/dog+about+town+trim.JPG" border="0" /></div>anno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34159884.post-51653440462677186942007-03-07T08:25:00.000+00:002007-06-09T08:43:13.277+01:00A Dog's Life<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheY6_TFsIr0WDarKCBqbAxcNeQWjEqL2jx2kgl_xZ0HnAX2i3HRVy30HiB2JleaMrKCYCboHdewcS06ajRv8UvOwxxKLsNFXY9o4iAgf6EwJ4KcQL4Tuo-Kr1zKIJbcrKU41b_/s1600-h/Cottage+by+the+Sea+header+pic.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039256497554133762" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 142px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 98px" height="116" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheY6_TFsIr0WDarKCBqbAxcNeQWjEqL2jx2kgl_xZ0HnAX2i3HRVy30HiB2JleaMrKCYCboHdewcS06ajRv8UvOwxxKLsNFXY9o4iAgf6EwJ4KcQL4Tuo-Kr1zKIJbcrKU41b_/s200/Cottage+by+the+Sea+header+pic.jpg" width="200" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju9XS3mTrC7xiQ2tUb1eILUC390A_8iZHo3E7NndZBM8E9fLE79kVrgJ-vZy1j6w5JdOKgfTOuLPcwvIa1nHX14VIil4ET0FdJR8wibf-bkagAP7fb8_YOkp017_R4w45W-cgJ/s1600-h/Cottage+by+the+Sea+header+pic.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039256201201390322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 2px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 4px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="76" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju9XS3mTrC7xiQ2tUb1eILUC390A_8iZHo3E7NndZBM8E9fLE79kVrgJ-vZy1j6w5JdOKgfTOuLPcwvIa1nHX14VIil4ET0FdJR8wibf-bkagAP7fb8_YOkp017_R4w45W-cgJ/s200/Cottage+by+the+Sea+header+pic.jpg" width="200" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="color:#000066;"><strong>A Cottage by the Sea - 2.</strong> </span><span style="color:#000099;">'A dog's life'</span></span><br /><br /><br /><div><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">We are cycling hell-for-leather down a country road. Energetically. Not the usual slow meander. But as though our lives depended on it. My mother, my sister, a couple of our friends and me. We don’t speak. Our heads are down. We grip the handlebars tightly with grim determination.</span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"></span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039251962068669154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKRs-NbEuqC7ibhMJYWJGQt4P0OAyoCptAxx7Pv1p8eIvLA1ORg0ve2Psy4JrU6T1eaEb5RbF-B9IzyX1SPuSwnRxXLN6zn6IPw_xiQyRt5iRjHZD0adRuXWI8xDfLTBu_30JH/s200/cycling+3.gif" border="0" /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">We do not notice the scenery. But we are aware we are riding along strange roads which we have never seen before. Alien villages are passed through without us even noting their names. The buildings look different, almost sinister; the road cold and hostile. The sky is overcast, although it is quite warm. Subdued. To match our mood.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"><br /></div></span><br /><br /><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039096028986020562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAdycyqQUAWh5CMsWx0XEue7rD_0owdJ0mYSC0DvNa2A63WHgh6sw5t9uTZY6oF8TXLc66nt_Xhn2nyzB9JD7F_vb-L5iWS1ROjNcqQx2twXLT_Pe9gHtFHGuI8xe9V0RgNiah/s320/Bru+%26+Me.JPG" border="0" /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#000066;"> Bru and me</span></p><br /><div><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">Bruno (also known as Bru or Bruey) was our only pet dog. Afterwards we had a string of border collies, but they were working dogs. (although they inevitably came to be treated as members of the household) But Bru was our childhood pet - our very own. Bru was a little character. My mother would open the door for him in the morning and he would scamper out to visit the neighbours (we were allowed to let dogs off the lead then). And so Bru would have several extra snacks a day. When he had distemper, my mother sewed him into an old ‘liberty bodice’ and he trotted around happily, unaware of the mirth he provoked in onlookers. </span></div><br /><p><br /><span style="color:#000099;"><span style="font-family:arial;">He was part of the regular decampment to Allonby. And that summer as usual he ‘ran wild’ around the village. </span><br /></span></p><p><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;">One day as we were eating our lunch, the window suddenly darkened and the rangy shape of Old Joe from next door blocked the light. He was knocking at the window and mouthing something. ‘It’s Bruno. Bruno.‘ Mum jumped up, ready to fend off the impending bad news. ‘Oh dear,‘ she said. She opened the door. ‘Bruno’s been run over’ said Joe, gesturing towards the road. ‘He was chasing a cat,‘ he said ‘ran straight over the bridge and into the road looking neither right nor left' </span><span style="font-family:arial;"><br /></p><p><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Mum tried to prevent us from hearing this, or from seeing anything, but it was too late. ‘What’s happened to Bru?‘ We peered out of the window, then ran to the door just in time to see Lenny Jackson, the idolised riding instructor pick our little Bru up by the tail - a shocking and undignified sight - and place him in a sack.<br /><br />After lunch, my mother took us all on our strenuous, supposedly diverting cycle ride. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">And later that afternoon, Lenny buried Bru in the sand behind The Hill.<br /><br />The village seemed to be a foreign place that day as we struggled to come to terms with the first bereavement we had encountered. The world would never again be a wholly pleasant place. </span></span><br /></p><p><span style="color:#000099;"></span></p><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2il7LsdOEiRBzQ7n-85sxktgVV0euhmAfWVEKne1BFV4aVN8Sj93m0HxepXsdFdx8aHWpm5RaGzxD1l4ELPdbysKczinT8QdtbtBV8a5zn071ntFH3KQDhMU0eFXzzUKulnL0/s1600-h/Mum+%26+Bru+at+Allonby.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039095913021903554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2il7LsdOEiRBzQ7n-85sxktgVV0euhmAfWVEKne1BFV4aVN8Sj93m0HxepXsdFdx8aHWpm5RaGzxD1l4ELPdbysKczinT8QdtbtBV8a5zn071ntFH3KQDhMU0eFXzzUKulnL0/s320/Mum+%26+Bru+at+Allonby.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;color:#000066;"> <span style="font-family:arial;">Mum and Bru at Allonby</span></span></div></div></div>anno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34159884.post-56459995666130052872007-03-05T22:40:00.000+00:002007-03-05T22:45:32.678+00:00Change of Address<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjesWXo3ZsEkT5VEJndm_WK283q4cQscAQoRHyqnAXaQpMPOtnJAP2VFqfvgV_G1yjTRFREk5GK6JZLHKDCAtwMMvv16WFb64zjyFblMpo39Nc_J4OJXZUH0OlXTaqQ7pFnxeUI/s1600-h/change+of+address+colour.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038575077202088210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjesWXo3ZsEkT5VEJndm_WK283q4cQscAQoRHyqnAXaQpMPOtnJAP2VFqfvgV_G1yjTRFREk5GK6JZLHKDCAtwMMvv16WFb64zjyFblMpo39Nc_J4OJXZUH0OlXTaqQ7pFnxeUI/s320/change+of+address+colour.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;">I<span style="color:#000066;"> have changed my address to one more in keeping with the name of my blog.</span></span><span style="color:#000066;"><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Hope you have found me!</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Regards,</span><br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#000066;"><strong>anno domini</strong></span></div>anno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34159884.post-48002229423447716522007-03-04T11:37:00.000+00:002007-03-04T19:47:01.972+00:00Borough Market, Southwark<div align="center"><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNlbQh_JjDT_sgtVXhpEJ9Ckquca5dZG0rPhJ4AiMlOBFCDYDw071p31U8CaYB2jdJ6cezsM41ToNKloa_pQQQxKT_M1NJ5xjG1tagcRzkHAtXePHokXIxQ9peBP-nAgUtP3ig/s1600-h/Borough+Market+trim.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038032734501753042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNlbQh_JjDT_sgtVXhpEJ9Ckquca5dZG0rPhJ4AiMlOBFCDYDw071p31U8CaYB2jdJ6cezsM41ToNKloa_pQQQxKT_M1NJ5xjG1tagcRzkHAtXePHokXIxQ9peBP-nAgUtP3ig/s400/Borough+Market+trim.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;">Visited Borough Market in Southwark, London last weekend. The medieval market was originally a wholesale fruit and vegetable outlet, and moved to its present site beneath the railway tracks in 1756. Now it sells gourmet foods from all over Britian and Europe.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038033206948155634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5mUMKSAFWCK7CCAd92khvdI0R6x8sEDp2NhuuANThnoj4NOknMCJ1s3vkZ2NXnDKd_UKz5ZgnomWFTCBzIq5EG6XwBAJZj3Rco37yN2yNmavIYvcQhA1KVTYmnmT2aZ1Liebd/s400/let+them+eat+cake.JPG" border="0" /></span><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000066;">Let them eat cake</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"></span><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><p align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038032979314888930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcm5FpG52NDHr2WeDQe6WZgpQVPZf7JVve8Gd_XcutAV5QcpNmK4QpZKUUqyeBbHWQBo9geekRmXrJASA9gCSjYX0dL1-1yo1V6xNIYndHdrb28c0TSHfZ1YitIyBgKFDOP8lf/s400/cheese+stall+trim.JPG" border="0" /></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000066;">Cheeses piled high.</span></p><p align="center"></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038033400221683970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivWlBateHedl-i3UjetVVK1ZbIVpElwGTlRMhNgel5oDefRBoHCYUhu0OD-JOZyF5xjB6l89hcuRXTi9FGmwxPTKAgFhMaweqgYbj_Pne8P0lsPpZEbKi6uKNmWM8lsK_MAjRK/s400/fruit+stall+trim.JPG" border="0" /></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000066;">I read recently that the more brightly coloured fruit and vegetables were full of antioxidents. This seems a good place to start shopping for your healthy diet.</span></p>anno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34159884.post-1398584962418922082007-02-26T16:08:00.000+00:002007-02-26T16:18:22.147+00:00Famous for fifteen minutes<span style="font-family:arial;color:#330099;">Ah, the fleeting nature of fame!</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#330099;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#330099;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5035876876852650818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPLa7EEkvAwgUCuXTqYo-1BwYMO4LyGlOJsrtqAWX7iCbhh2FJtKzhrCOo3erEPGAT0uLebvBg0ZEAiJ8VPgpJNI4D__YcrAc3cz-Zp7TIJf382bTVE_bkBEE-85RpeFUvIwNl/s400/jane+goody+cancelled+trim.JPG" border="0" /></span><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;color:#330099;">Spotted this in Tower Bridge Road, London at the weekend. (I could have done without the American spelling of 'cancelled' - but perhaps I'm too fussy!)</span></p><p></p>anno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34159884.post-43832634392032904142007-02-20T20:43:00.000+00:002007-02-21T22:35:49.743+00:00Help - I've been tagged!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRxidKCbUbRpAQTSqeE6w7MgMcd-Opn3K7MNjKM1z6EylDRfix7vaNxemWAIpnKJLwRlJq0JH2FQfosFKVFOtVyyTSZiOmiJLSdBtvl09Z8cbI_cCfCTcqfW5ir48LKwMC5e3H/s1600-h/Film.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5033720273100748962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRxidKCbUbRpAQTSqeE6w7MgMcd-Opn3K7MNjKM1z6EylDRfix7vaNxemWAIpnKJLwRlJq0JH2FQfosFKVFOtVyyTSZiOmiJLSdBtvl09Z8cbI_cCfCTcqfW5ir48LKwMC5e3H/s200/Film.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;">I’ve been tagged by <a href="http://connaissances.blogspot.com">Jonathan</a> to choose my favourite French films. Help! I can’t really remember any, as I’m not really a film buff; I’m happy to watch a film once, and that’s that. </span></div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"><br /><div><br />As for French films - well I remember the usual stuff, ‘Jean de Florette’, 'The Red Balloon ' etc.<br />However, one I particularly remember is <strong>‘Blanche’</strong> : this was directed by a Pole, Walerian Borowczyk, (1971) but I suppose it counts as it was filmed in French, in France. </div><br /><div><br />It was an atmospheric tale set in a 13th century court, where the King’s young wife was seduced by the wrong man. The outcome was pretty savage; her lover being drawn behind horses until he was a ‘bleeding piece of earth’ and Blanche herself suffering the dreadful fate of being bricked up. So not what you’d call a jolly film! </div><br /><div><br />But it was filmed beautifully; slowly, the camera allowed to linger. The period setting was meticulously realized, and the music, played on original instruments was authentic and moving. I like that fact that many foreign films are so static and unrushed, refusing to bow to the Hollywood requirement to dash about hither and thither at great head-spinning speed. After all, life is not a series of ‘edited highlights’. </div><div><br />I have no problem with subtitles - in fact if a film is dubbed, I won’t watch it. Dubbing drains all the atmosphere from a film; the sound of the language -whether you understand it or not - is essential to the ‘spirit of place‘<br />So - not a list I’m afraid, but the best I can do!</div><div></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5033720749842118834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIzOAcJVksqMtq5eM4Orxftnt0CHCAvZTHLfOcolxjY8BlxAZekqNvd7urLgseZmxXJolGKwBs7tVL5lAiPRHIUN5JhPz285SzHiwHwXgy3fTRCVcsmabI0z97a8mSd5U17oRs/s200/blanche+trim+1.JPG" border="0" /></span></div>anno dominihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00546570264533360903noreply@blogger.com5