After Richard

Still discussing the previous night’s performance of Richard III on Saturday we drove across country via Ipstones and Longnor to Buxton. We parked easily up on the park, near the war memorial and wandered down into town. After a meander round the shops and a coffee we went into the Pavilion to look at the Family History Fair. I was hoping that the Birmingham and Midlands lot would be there but no joy so my Hodgetts from 1841 backwards still remain a mystery. I’ve done all I can on Ancestry so have now to look at parish records which in turn means braving New Street Station to get to the archives and I’m not a great fan of New Street Station. We spoke to quite a few people on the many stalls on offer and generally enjoyed ourselves.

On Sunday we took a break from tiling the hallway floor to pop up into Hanley to watch the aircraft of the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight fly over the Potteries Museum where a new statue of local hero Reginald Mitchell designer of the Spitfire had been unveiled. We stood opposite the museum in what used to be the burial ground of the Bethesda Chapel, now a lovely landscaped garden. There were loads of people milling around and it was great to see representatives of all generations eagerly anticipating the aircraft. A huge ‘whoop’ went up from the crowd as the planes flew proudly and sedately overhead and then a huge wave of applause as they disappeared over the rooftops into the sky beyond.

This morning we got up early and decided to walk around the lake at Trentham before all the crowds got there later today. We saw herons nesting, and the geese and swans were proudly displaying their little ones for our delight. After steaming hot coffee at the lakeside café we drove back home past the queue of cars struggling to find parking spaces in the pouring rain.

'Weer it, enjoy it, and mek mooch of it'

So saith Lord Stanley to Richmond as he handed over the crown plucked from the brow of the dead King Richard on the Battlefield of Bosworth. This can only mean one thing and, yes, indeed, Northern Broadsides are back in town.

As we took our seats* the actors wandered on to the stage and began playing jazz, I’m always amazed by the many talents of the actors who make up this company and was to be even more amazed later on by an additional talent I’d not yet seen. Just before the lights went down I spotted the gangling, ungainly figure in black at the top of the stairs – here was Richard. Played wonderfully well by Conrad Nelson this Richard weaved and cajoled and simpered and struggled his evil way to the throne.** A throne he soon lost on Bosworth Field where White Surrey was replaced by a barrow and the battle was won accompanied by the wild clashing of drums, the swirling of banners and clog dancing. I did wonder why all the soldiers were carrying a spare pair of shoes over their shoulders and at the start of the fight instead of armour they donned clogs and danced their way onto the battlefield, the noise of their feet getting louder and louder as the bitter struggle drew to its inevitable conclusion. After the battle there followed a wonderful choral display as The Earl of Richmond accepted his challenge. I love Northern Broadsides.

*my seat was against the main entrance and exit for the company and right by the ‘butt of malmsey’ so I heard the gurgles and saw the struggles in great detail.

** Of course, as much as I love Shakespeare, as a Yorkist I don’t believe Richard was either as evil or as deformed as Will portrayed him, but if I had lived in Tudor England I think I would have done the same.

A feeling of Disquiet

What a strange week. Well I was right about the rain, I really shouldn’t have taken the garden furniture out of its winter storage. No lawn cutting for a while as the garden is squelching in water again, no drought here then, just a spoilt garden.

When I visited the out patients to get my eye checked out I think that, apart from a couple of young mums with children, I was the youngest there. I was glad to finally get my appointment but I came away feeling quite low in spirits, I should, of course, be happy that I’ve not got any serious problems and that there are so many people far worse off than me, but seeing so many elderly people struggling to see and walk made me fear for the future.

I’ve been saddened also by a strange thing happening to one of my favourite web sites. I’ve been a member on this site since October 2003, not a very active member admittedly but I’ve visited it almost daily and enjoyed its ups and downs, but this week a temporary forum attached to the main site has gone absolutely berserk with people really being nasty to each other. I guess people are upset because things seem to be in limbo at the moment but it really has gone too far with only one person speaking any sense. I think once I know what is happening, and get the answer to one outstanding question I won’t bother again.

Off to Wales next week for our annual reunion staying at Maesyfed as usual. Hope to shake off some of the troubles and disquiet I feel from all the above and enjoy being with friends who care about each other.

Drifting

Can’t believe it’s a week since I last wrote anything for here. The last few days have gone by in a daze of lawn cutting, gardening, cooking, sorting things for the charity shop and trying and failing to get interested in anything positive and/ or doing anything positive, except, looking after my little cat who on Tuesday had to have six teeth extracted by the vet. She’s coping very well which is more than I am. Next week have my eye appointment – dreading this as I can’t cope with anything in or near my eyes, the day after I have the fasting blood tests. Then I must start to think about the annual ‘get-together’ in Penybont, week after next. This warm weather has induced that late summer laziness of body and mind usually gained from too many hours in the sun lounger but these haven’t even seen the light of day yet. I did get out the plastic table and chairs though and give then a good wash down. A sure sign that it will rain from now on.

One Reason to be Cheerful

Yeh! Thank goodness, my vote did count. I was fully expecting to wake up this morning to the devastating news that the BNP had won another seat in our ward, but joy of joys – labour held on to Longton North. I’d rather even have Conservatives than BNP and you will realize how strong a feeling that is when I tell you that I was brought up in a village not two miles from what used to be called in the grim eighties ‘the people’s republic of Bolsover’ so I was nurtured in ‘old’ style labour politics. Even though Labour lost overall power in Stoke I’m so relieved not be totally ashamed of the area I’m living in.

Dithering

We’ve been having a ‘clear out’ or ‘de-cluttering’ of junk accumulated over the years. I’ve been quite good at letting go of things* but I’m beginning to get to the real nitty-gritty now and have been dithering over a couple of things for the past week.

Bag one contained the photos, information panels and research notes from an exhibition I put together for our then local library to celebrate the Quincentenary of the Battle of Bosworth Field in August 1985. As I look at the mounted photographs of various Plantagenets and Tudors (all postcards from the National Portrait Gallery) and the ones we took ourselves of various Ricardian places, like Middleham, York and Leicester I have happy memories of putting the exhibition together and of struggling to type the information panels on my IBM ‘golf ball’ typewriter. This was a huge, noisy beast but I loved it because it had a golf ball with a script font which looked completely right with the photographs. I remember the opening of the exhibition and the wonderful case of Richard III related books the library put out to enhance the wall panels. I made the final decision – last night the bag went in the wheelie bin.

Bag two contains all Georgette Heyer’s novels in paperback. I began reading these when I was about thirteen years old. I was completely hooked and over the next three or four years I devoured everyone. They have moved with me on countless occasions but their pages have become yellow/brown with age, the paper is thin, brittle and brown spotted. I don’t think a charity shop would take them. So last night I chose my favourite two novels ‘Friday’s Child’ the first one I read and the one that got me hooked and ‘Devil’s Cub’ because as a romantic 15 year old I fell in love with Dominic Vidal. The rest – well, they are now in the wheelie bin.

*Most definitely staying are Belinda bear and Bruin bear, fluff the pink cat, my first Christmas tree (bought when I was 4 months old), all the old family photographs and papers and my copy of a Nottingham Playhouse programme of ‘Hamlet, Prince of Denmark’ signed by Ian Mckellan.

Bank Holiday

The weekend started wonderfully as we made an escape for a couple of hours at lunch on Friday, a walk around the lake at Trentham then lunch at the garden centre café to celebrate our wedding annniversay.

Saturday we headed off to Buxton to shop at Hawkshead’s (20%) off weekend. I now have a lovely soft brown self stripe blouse which fits perfectly. We drove out of Buxton towards Macclesfield to find the Dunge Valley Gardens and had lunch and lovely walk there before setting off towards Macclesfield. We stopped for a while overlooking the Goyt Valley to watch and listen to the curlews nesting in the grassy pastures just beyond the road. I love to hear the strange evocative cry of the curlew and quite a few flying and calling together make for a truly unusual and magical sound.

Sunday we got up really early and drove to the Manifold valley. We walked for a couple of hours past Thor’s cave and on towards Waterhouses. When we got back to Wetton Mill the car park was full but we really enjoyed the coffee and home made cake from the Mill café before we returned home.

Monday was a wet, gloomy day so we stayed at home pottering around. The gloomy day, therefore was a suitable backdrop to the phone call I received in the afternoon. A dear friend of over 30 years standing rang to say that she has been diagnosed with breast cancer. It is very early days and has been caught early so she has to have a lumpectomy (sp?) followed by five weeks of radio therapy and course of tamoxifen (sp?). To say that I was stunned is to put it quite mildly but she is optimistic and positive and therefore so am I that she will come through this by taking one step at a time. Please God.

Too grumpy by far

I seem to be in ‘grumpy old woman’ mode today. Don’t know why because it is lovely outside. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, the newts are basking and the tadpoles wriggling around in the pond, the washing is drying on the line, the lawn is freshly cut and the cats are snoozing in various parts of the garden (one on the seat, one under the heather and one under the gooseberry bushes). Therefore my unease must stem from my walk down into town, not just that but from my visit to the supermarket. Yes, that is where the answer lies. So in my best ‘grumpy’ voice, here we go:- Why do people crowd you at the checkouts? It is very rude. It is usually a couple working a pincer movement on you. She unloads pushing you forward all the time with the trolley in your back, he barges past you and lurks in the window area. When the person being served in front of you, to whom you are giving enough space to carry out their monetary transactions, moves away from the till, you move down to start packing your bags, after about four items have entered your bag the man moves forward and starts to collect and open carrier bags and then stands there watching every item you place in your bag and if you hesitate for a split second over where to place items in your bag, he sort of tuts. You then move back to punch in your pin number but the woman is in the way with the trolley and really resents having to move back an inch or two so you can complete your transaction so she pushes through behind you glowering at you until you move your trolley away. Grr and double Grr – I felt like saying ‘Would you jump in my grave as quick?’ but it seemed rather churlish to do so. Outnumbered you see.

As I walked back home I passed a piece of graffiti on a wall ‘School is crop’ now is this:

a) A new corruption of a word by the young and does it mean something completely different?
b) A mis-spelling of ‘crap’?
c) An inability to form letters correctly?

As I passed the nearby school the little ones were out in the playground cycling around on their bikes. One child said to another ‘Get out of my way, you fool*.’ This saddened me – a very small child with a teenage attitude. I really worry for the future when these kids are not taught to consider other people’s feelings and the fact that some people may not move as quickly or as efficiently as others. This awareness used to come with age but I find increasingly that it doesn’t anymore. Hey, ho, back to the garden.

*The child did use the word 'fool' , a teenager would use something rather more explicit, I think.

And Trim came too

We had an old friend to stay with us over the Easter weekend and yesterday we drove her back to Spalding. On the way we stopped off at the small town of Donington to look at the new statue of one of my heroes, Captain Matthew Flinders. When I worked in the local Museum we had a gallery dedicated to Matthew Flinders and I was privileged to be able to do research at the archives in Lincoln and read quite a few of Flinders’ letters home to his family and fiancée Ann Chapelle. The bronze statue is very attractive but much smaller than I expected and stands at the road side in the market place where his family home stood for many years. Poor Matthew, who is considered a hero in Australia, is little known in his homeland. He died at the age of 40 in 1814 just after publishing his book ‘A Voyage to Terra Australis.’ His cat Trim who sailed with him and also stayed with him during his captivity on the island of Mauritius is depicted at his feet. His grandson was the noted Egyptologist Sir William Matthew Flinders Petrie.

A Corner of the Artist's Room

I was interested to learn that there is a new book available whose plot revolves around one of my all time favourite paintings by my very favourite artist.

I first saw ‘A Corner of the Artist’s Room in Paris’ many years ago at the Graves Art Gallery in Sheffield. I fell in love with its simplicity and its tranquility. It is has a stark masculinity and yet, at the same time, is very feminine. I love the glow of light from the fine netted window which gives the viewer a fleeting glimpse of the outside world. I saw the painting again in 1985 at the Barbican in London as part of the exhibition of Gwen John’s work called ‘Gwen John- An Interior Life’ I still treasure the catalogue I bought then and look through it often.

The room in question is 87 Rue du Chereche-Midi, where Gwen John lived on the top floor from 1907 until 1909. It was during these years she became the model and later the lover of the sculptor Auguste Rodin.

Although the new book doesn’t get a particularly good review, I will still read it. I can’t not, can I?

Hope to Castleton

We set out early today and drove across country through Ipstones, Longnor and Tideswell to Hope. The air was clear as we traveled through the patchwork quilt of fields all lightly touched by a soft sprinkling of snow, the hills in the distance sparkling white in the sun. We arrived in Hope and after parking we crossed the road to have coffee at Woodbine Cottage where we mingled with other sturdy booted, wooly hatted walkers sitting around the warm log fire the air redolent with the smell of coffee and wood smoke. Suitably refreshed we wondered down past the church, over the river and took the public footpath to Castleton. The path was quite muddy in places and the wind almost took our breath away as we gazed at the ruins of Peveril Castle in the distance on the hillside above the town. Each field was dotted with sheep and suckling lambs who gazed nervously at us as we struggled to climb the stiles without slipping and landing in the quagmires below.



Castleton was quiet – quieter than at Christmas – when the town buzzes with folks viewing the lights. We looked in one or two shops and the new heritage centre which was very interesting. We were wondering about the walk up to the castle but just as we stepped outside again the sun disappeared and the rain began to come down. We decided then to go back another time to visit the castle. As we came out of the bookshop the sun came out again so we walked back to Hope and drove home calling into the large bookshop at Brierlow Bar where I couldn’t resist buying a couple of books – ‘Letters from the Fens’ by Edward Storey and ‘The Waves’ by Virginia Woolf – the cost for both just £4.98. I love days like today.

Cork Cutters and Ferrule Makers

I was searching through a box of old photographs and family papers when I found a very old card signed by my great-grandmother. Now this was one line of my family tree that I hadn’t researched as much as the others. It being my father’s mother’s side of the family on her mother’s side – try to work that one out after a glass of sherry. I knew that Sarah Ann or Sally, as she was known, had, according to the 1881 census, come from Birmingham with her brother Robert into Derbyshire, presumably for work, and from the parish records that they had both married and stayed there. I knew their father’s name was also Robert (deceased at the time of their marriages in 1875.) My sister who has a subscription to Ancestry was able to find the family for me on the 1851, 1861 and 1871 census returns and how fascinating and moving it turned out to be.

In 1861 the family was living in a courtyard in the St Martin’s District of Birmingham. That is, of course the Bull Ring area, as the church there is St Martin’s. They lived in Court No 10 in house No 2 and Robert (senior) worked as a Gun Implement Maker, his wife Mary Ann worked as a Brace Stitcher (whatever that is) son John, age 12, as a Cork Cutter and son Robert, age 10, as an Umbrella Ferrule Maker. Sarah was five and there was a younger brother Joseph aged 4. By 1871 Robert (senior) and Mary Ann had died (only in their forties) and John and Robert (junior) are lodging together in St Martin’s. Sarah Ann is in domestic service with an architect in the Lady Wood area of Birmingham. Within 4 years they are living in Derbyshire and settling down there - I'd love to know how this came about. At the end of 2004 we visited the Back to Backs in Birmingham, little knowing then that I was looking at the type of houses in the very same area where my ancestors would have lived and worked. A very salutary lesson, indeed.

Spring at Last

Looks like spring has arrived at last. The daffodils are in flower, the collard doves are billing and cooing and we have frog spawn in the pond. As I was walking back from replenishing the bird feeders in the plum tree I noticed the frog spawn and went to take a closer look; at this point the whole of the surface of the pond seemed to move - it was the newts basking in the watery sunshine and looking forward, no doubt, to feasting on tiny tadpoles when they eventually emerge from their little bubbles.

Ginger-ish

Overheard earlier today as I walked to the local shop. Two small boys chatting on the pavement whilst playing football

1st Boy - she isn’t ginger

2nd Boy - she is, well ginger-ish

1st boy - she’s strawberry blond

2nd boy - she isn’t blond, she’s ginger-ish

1st boy - she isn’t ginger

2nd boy - not ginger, I said ginger-ish

The pretty tabby kitten sitting on the wall watching them play gave me a knowing look.

One Year On

Well, I started this Blog a year ago today and it seems I wrote about Dab Chicks at Cromford Canal. Perhaps we should go back and look at them again but given that the weather is much colder this year than last they probably aren’t up to their courting rituals and amusing antics yet; is everything later this year? I think the blackbirds are nesting in our front hedge and today, when we walked around the lake at Trentham the heronry was buzzing; with the birds landing and taking off like planes at Manchester airport. The deer were clustered together as well; all the hinds around one protectively dominant, antlered stag. I’ve just downloaded the Springwatch details from the BBC web site. I haven’t seen any frog spawn in our pond yet this year; just one poor dead frog on the lawn, its back legs sheared off. P said it looked like it had been dropped from a heron’s beak because if one of the cats had taken it its injuries wouldn’t have been so clean cut. Funnily enough I saw a heron land near our pond the other day, peer rather dismissively into it – why do I always see herons wearing a pince-nez? – register that there were no fish and then take off, rather awkwardly, legs dangling, up and away over the shed and the trees behind, wings flapping like mad – hope it had an easier landing at its next port of call..

A Bad Decision

I visited the Elan Valley twice last year. Once with friends on our annual ‘get-together’ and the second time with P on our way further into mid-wales and the coast. It is a strange and beautiful place, even though man made, and summons up those same feelings as when, for example, you visit Ladybower in Derbyshire, or Rutland Water in Rutland because you are always aware of what lies beneath. You can imagine the anguish felt by the people whose homes were destroyed and the sheer hard labour of those who built the dams. For over 100 years the Elan Valley has supplied Birmingham with water at great cost to themselves. Lives, livelihoods and treasured family homes were lost. That is why I think it was so short sighted of Birmingham Council to say no when Community Arts Rhayader And District asked for a donation towards the cost of the £550,000 museum. There is a huge link between the two areas and when I watched the local news yesterday many of the people spoken to in the streets of Birmingham felt that the Council should have made a donation. I think that they have underestimated how their citizens feel about this. I hope they change their minds.

Favourite Book

As it is World Book Day today I thought I would mention one of my all time favourite books J L Carr’s ‘A Month in the Country’. It is set a few years after WW1 and is a bitter-sweet story of love, loss and discovery. There are multiple layers to the meaning of the book and the stories of the wonderful characters interweave throughout its pages. It makes me laugh, it makes me smile, it makes me cry. A truly glorious book that you can read again and again.

Arousing Strong Feelings

I can’t be the only person that hasn’t read any Dan Brown novels and in particular 'The Da Vinci Code', in fact, I know I’m not because I’ve spoken to several people who haven’t read him either. Of the people I’ve spoken to who have read the book they seem to be split into two very distinct camps, those that loved it; and those that hated it. In fact, not just hated it but, indeed, the very mention of either the book or the author seems to make then spit out very colourful and venomous expletives, the like of which I rarely hear except when directed towards mass murderers, child molesters or football thugs. However, the book that has been mentioned in the alleged plagiarism case, I seem to think I have read, many years ago when it was considered 'cool' and the right book to be seen with on a train - or a plane. It was passed round my place of work at the time and we all read it in turn. Well, if it wasn’t that one is was certainly one about the Knights Templar and the Holy Grail. I can't remember anything about it now though. So, I have to make the decision to read or not to read? Perhaps I'll just go and see the film.

Did you all remember to say 'white rabbits' this morning? For once I did remember.

Not too much to ask, is it?

Well, the ongoing saga with Homebase is still – well – ongoing. We have had two more attempts at getting two cream drawer covers with no success. Beech was sent again – so that’s three lots of beech and last week an entirely different kitchen unit was sent. They still can’t order just the drawer fronts (the computer system won’t allow it) so each time they have to send the whole unit. Bizarre. We have chosen the tiles though and half of them are on the walls. Looking good so far.

Handles and History

Up early, out of the house and on our way to Ikea by 8.30a.m. to buy handles for the kitchen doors and drawers. We have a choice of three stores all around an hour’s drive from us but as two of them, Warrington and Wednesbury, involve the M6, we always go to the Nottingham one which is actually near Kimberley and Awsworth.* We managed to get some super handles and inserts for the cutlery drawers all for about £28. By this evening they had been fitted and it is now – except for the two lots of missing drawers - complete. Next job is choosing and fixing the tiles. Looking forward to having a day off tomorrow and going for a long walk.

* my maternal grandfather was born in Awsworth in 1884 and his grandparents were married in the church there in 1858 so I always feel I'm on 'familiar' ground - I wonder what they would have made of Ikea?