Aspects of Bristol June 5th-6th

A pub on Gloucester Road The observatory? and camera obscura?
The Clifton suspension bridge
Looking down to the river. Then over the bridge...to the Leigh Woods area where there are some unbelievable houses. Hmm - Victorian Gothic?...You can travel from the heart or rural England on a grand scale... ...to a Swiss chalet, an outsized cuckoo clock or a gingerbread house called Alpenfels.
When I feel inspired I must correct the lean - it's the photographer's fault, not the builder's.

Birdlife in Eastville Park

A country walk in Bristol

My niece invited me to go along on a health walk with her and her son, with a group of people, meeting up outside a supermarket at ten in the morning and following a couple of leaders. It was an interesting route, past the Barton Hill Settlement - a local community centre which has lots going on, along a path by the Feeder Canal, to the river Avon.

We passed this tree with a wall in the middle of it, and lunched at a bar and tea-room by the river. Unfortunately the river was too high and fast for the tiny ferry to be running.

Then we had to give up part way through as Finn was not well. One moment he was fine - the next refusing to eat and too quiet for a three-year-old. One minute he wanted to be held upside down, the next he was miserable. Turned out he was developing an ear infection, though it was almost two days before this was clear. He's fine again now.

Since we were with a group we hadn't bothered to bring a map, so our return walk on our own was not the most direct route.

Wainwright and his Lakeland guides

We watched a TV programme about the legendary Alfred Wainwright, a man of mystery until very late in his life.

He worked as Kendal Borough Treasurer for years, but once he had decided to produce his guides he was a thoroughly methodical obsessive, and spent every weekend walking the Lakeland Fells, on his own, and every evening handwriting and illustrating his guidebooks.

Eventually he used the money he earned from the books to fund animal rescue centres.

From Florence to Rutland Water

Last night, we watched some of the camcorder shots from Florence - a lot of them taken by Harry while we were wandering around the streets in the evenings. The 'old tart' put on a pretty good show. Plenty of street entertainment - from a bizarre act (hypnotism?) involving audience members behaving strangely, accompanied by the crowd's rhythmic chanting and clapping, to music from a brass group, and more from a solo classical guitarist.

This morning, the sight of the sun after three grey and wet days had us out at Rutland Water, roller-blading by nine o'clock. Esther, who was here for the weekend, took the opportunity to fit in a run. Back home for coffee and breakfast at 11.

A place, not a person

The old tart

She hasn’t changed her knickers
since the glory days. She’s locked her finery
away in display cabinets,
but her everyday wear is shabby and worn.
Her make up artist hasn’t changed since the '70s
and the cracks are showing.
Old habits live on.
Her grubby palm stretches out for pennies
and snaps them tight into her fist.
Yet as night falls and she is backlit by a softer glow
her old magic returns to draw the crowds.

An explanation:
It's Florence - no, not Nightingale, the city.
The display cabinets are the museums and art galleries, which are brilliant.
The make-up is the shabby appearance of some of the frontages and public spaces - even parts of the well-known ones. It didn't help that there was constant dust from building work, I suppose. The reference to the seventies is something quite unconnected - I've been watching a DVD of the 1976 TV adaptation of I Claudius and was thinking of the make up worn by Sian Phillips as Livia.
The grasping for money is a combination of the expense (perceived by me and of course with the exchange rate so poor), and the (immigrant?) beggars in public places. Even the car hire had an extra charge for being in a historical area.
Old habits die hard - well, I've recently read some bits about European history, and so much seemed to be about the money and power.
Yet at night, with less traffic, and softer lighting the place is magical to walk around in spite of all this.

And I'm still not sure the whole thing isn't sexist, but with a name like Flo' ...

Social housing

Headlines scream, '1 million more on housing waiting list' but how do our figures compare to Europe?

How much 'council housing' is there here? Apart from, clearly, not enough.

And in Germany or France or Spain? Is it such a disaster to live in social housing? It used to be a respectable part of the housing stock until Thatcher and following governments decided to institute the 'right to buy' and helped to turn the less desirable council estates into something like sinks for the poverty-stricken, the feckless and the hopeless.

Procrastination and all that

http://www.slate.com/id/2190909/

a whole load of stuff including why Truman Capote didn't finish his great novel Answered Prayers. Just the thing to browse through when you're trying to put something off.

There's even an article on the compulsion to play Spider solitaire and Freecell. Oh, the hours, the hours.

One from three years or so ago:

SOLITAIRE
(Wasting time)

On my computer screen
I deal out the cards
Three two ace , ace two three
I make patterns,
Jack queen king ,king queen jack
I connect chains,
black red black red black red
I build up suits
Clubs, diamonds, hearts, spades
I order the screen world
I win some I lose some.

On my television screen
Instead of cards I see
Disasters , murders, bombings
One two three, three two one
Warlords presidents party leaders
King queen knave, knave queen king
Different cultures opposed
Brown white black ,black white brown
And shades in between
The world is disordered
Some win, and most lose.

Two wheels good

First time out on the bike for a while ( for me, not Harry). Perfect weather, sunny, warm, a slight breeze. The scent of pollen - cow parsley along the roadsides, wallflowers, lilac blossom - some lilac seems to have escaped to live among the wild hawthorns too.

across the hillside
splashes yellow paint
oilseed rape

Wisteria hangs theatrical fringes
Round the cottage window
Ready for the summer show.

I lick salt sweat from my lips,
Mixed with the taste of fresh brewed tea.

Writing 60 words

I sometimes post on a WD forum - 60 word fiction. Today, the prompt was 'Launderette'. I thought of several. Most recently in the US - in Brooklyn with Leonie while they were living in rented apartments before moving; in Eureka, California, during a holday in a rented RV; in New Hampshire last autumn, again during a holiday. All different.
Go back to student days, bedsit days, the days before tumble driers or disposable nappies.

So I wrote the notes, and gradually changed them to fit the format of 60 words fiction. It's not dramatic enough to satisfy me, but it's interesting (for me) to see the thought process.

Notes
Travel in an RV – the luxury of carrying your home around like a clumsy snail – but without the mod cons. You daren’t use the toilet since you don’t want to be stuck trying to empty the tank. And you certainly don’t have a washing machine. Much better to use the facilities in a campground. So why do they bother fitting these behemoths with bathrooms?
Then the laundry piles up until you find a launderette – well Laundromat if you’re stateside. We found one in the small college town of Eureka on the Northern Cali coast.

Condensed
Laundromats attract all sorts.
Families without a washing machine.
Tourists – the kind who don’t stay in hotels and pay them to do the laundry.
And another kind of wanderer – whose life, complete with dog, fits in a supermarket cart.
I put the money in the slot.
On the wall: Nothing in driers unless it’s been washed. Including sleeping bags.

Half way to fiction (and it is sixty words)
They parked the RV. Wide street, a laundromat, a thrift store.
Sal put the clothes in the machine, quarters in the slot. Like the locals, she bought a coffee from the automat.
A woman came by, pushing her life, and dog, in a supermarket cart.
Sal read the notice: Nothing in driers unless washed in our machines. Including sleeping bags.

Striding out

Three people in two days have greeted me with the words, 'You're striding out well today.' Do I really walk differently from other people?

But it has meant a conversation about walking on or off roads, alone or in company, safety considerations and the state of village to village roadside footpaths (almost non-existent). Then somehow we touched on composting as a communal village activity, allotments and recycling.

I shall continue to stride out.

I hope it's a haiku.

two short weeks away
skimmed milk of blackthorn blossom
turns full cream of may.

Siena in the rain

Perhaps the least enjoyable day of our holiday. But still, the less successful visits are often more fun to write about. This poem is evolving daily.

Siena sotto la pioggia

(I hope the Italian is correct - it's supposed to be a silly dig at TS Eliot's use of other languages, just to show I'm not a monoglot.)

The guidebook shows
sunlit postcard views
the campo from the torre,the palio.Twelve horses career around the sloping square
for glory and honour,
Flags blazing gold and red on black,

sharp shadow shapes.

Today

we park.
Five escalators
clatter and clank

us up to steep streets,
narrow
cobbled and
gleaming dank

tall buildings
huddle

to hold the sun at bay
although
today

why bother?

The campo
reflects the palace tower
in hints of light and shade.

Umbrellas sprout,
generous fungi
bright, determined, cheerful
despite the clinging drizzle.

They wait in lines
or play a game of dodge
along the streets.

Washing at high windows
so picturesque
above the tourist throngs
so wet.

The duomo's marble is fresh washed,
its glorious gilded frontage,
backed by a crane.
They are everywhere
in Tuscany this April.

A covered market place,
shelters crowds from the drips;
kids run and throw food,
or wait for a bus.

Below a sign
via dei malcontenti
I stop and pull a face.

'andy 'ints for 'opeful 'omers

I put together a short piece on writing poetry. It was possibly going in the mag. Then I found someone else, far better known, had written something and was happy for me to use it. But, as I was brought up to 'waste not, want not', I couldn't just throw mine in the non-recyclables. Yet.

• Read it aloud and listen – you’ll hear the good, the bad and the ugly combinations of sounds. Choose the ones you want.
• If you’re aiming for a regular metre, clap, bounce a ball, or tap your feet. Or sing your poem to a tune with a definite beat.
• Use a rhyming dictionary if you’re really stuck – an unusual word could lead you to a new image or idea. It’s quicker than going through the alphabet in your head and trying out all possible rhymes.
• Remove words that don’t work for their living, especially in free verse.

OK, what have I missed? There must be plenty.

Skies and an accidental 'horse'

I thought it was time to break up the blocks of text.

Stocktaking again

I seem to have been bogged down elsewhere in cyberspace - mainly with Writers' Dock mag, but I've been doing more editing than creating anything of my own. I need to do a quick stock-take - especially since I'm approaching another birthday - not a big one this year.

I've written a few articles for the mag, on writing and editing poetry, on World Book Day and National Year of Reading - mainly cobbled together from online info. Then I've written a couple of poems, both rhyming - one narrative, and the other about writing poetry, from a practical point of view.

Last night, I did a couple of short almost stories, from prompts. The two were written in about half an hour, and it made a pleasant change just wandering along following my imagination, instead of trying to be clear and logical about facts. I shall keep them and edit if I feel they have any potential.

This afternoon while I was out walking, I remembered another. A villanelle for a challenge.

Well, I think my brain's getting a bit of exercise.

More baby steps

Moondreamer made the suggestion and now we've acted on it. We've started a new blog Towards 2011 - 100 Years of International Women's Day. (I'm not putting a link to the IWD home page because some script on it keeps crashing my AOL connection.)
We hope to include articles about gender differences, facts about women - our achievements, areas where inequality still reigns, along with areas where men and women are crossing the old boundaries. We're also looking for feminist humour and cartoons. I don't mean jokes about men.

On another tack, a friend from Writers' Dock has started a petition to the PM on an ecological and aid issue. Another baby step, but hell, you have to start somewhere.
We the undersigned petition the Prime Minister to Covenant Foreign Aid where Ecological Resources exist, such as endangered rainforests, fisheries and reefs, so local populations are directly compensated for conservation. We urge the Prime Minister to acquire renewable leases on such areas for UK monitoring rights to ensure the money is spent effectively.
The aims of this petition are to advance anti-climate change measures, to ensure Aid is spent effectively and fairly, and report to the Public on its effectiveness.

Baby steps does it.

According to a contact in Australia, during this year's Earth Hour 'the saving was equivalent to two power stations being temporarily out of service.'

Last year it was a Sydney-based event. This year it has gone global. According to the BBC link in the previous post, (which keeps changing some of the details) Chicago and San Francisco took part, along with Bangkok, Manila, Toronto and Dublin. New Zealand joined in as well. In Bangkok they saved 73.34 megawatts of electricity, which would have produced 45.8 tonnes of carbon dioxide.

In Britain, a number of villages arranged their own lights-out, although there has been no big publicity. 26 councils dimmed lights. I don't know which they were. On the south coast, Brighton turned off the lights on its pier, and in London - which was not officially involved - lights were turned down at City Hall.

Next year, will there be more? I guess it's our call.

Earth Hour did happen

Thanks BBC again - you publicise it after the event, for those who are looking. I didn't find much about it beforehand. I wonder why the UK doesn't really do this sort of thing.

Anyway, you can link to Earth Hour 2009 and year-long action against climate change at this world wildlife fund link .

Lights out

Well, we turned all the lights off at 8pm, lit a couple of candles, and instead of running two computers and the TV, we just had the TV on. Dim lights, TV burbling happily in the background, we both dozed off. Didn't put the lights back on until nearly 10pm.

Earth Hour, Ospreys and squibbles

The Ospreys are returning to Rutland Water, to stay for the summer, perchance to breed.
There are live webcam images, refreshed every minute between 9am and 5pm daily

Today at 8pm local time is Earth Hour. A token gesture perhaps. We are all asked to turn off our lights for one hour, in order to make a point about wasting energy.
I am as guilty as anyone of failing to publicise this, and failing to organise any local switch-off. I fear it is about to squibble. [= v.i. fizzle out like a damp squib Ref: Alidictionary 2008 ;@) ].

Why Women should rule the World - Dee Dee Myers

The Guardian review by Sharon Krum of a new book 'Why Women should rule the World' by Dee Dee Myers looks interesting. No, she's not banishing men from positions of power. I'm tagging it to remind myself of the ideas put forward. More later.

OK. Long post - condensed from the article above .

Dee Dee Myers was the White House’s first female press secretary. A comment made by her daughter of nursery school age inspired the book. The child said that only boys could become President of the USA, though girls could be presidents’ wives. In fact women are still under-represented in public life and account for only17% of members of national parliaments.

Myers is not interested in knocking men, but in investigating why so few women take powerful positions alongside them. Hillary Clinton’s quest for office has exposed wide-spread sexism. Though not all Clinton’s problems have been gender-related, misogynists have had their moments during her campaign, heckling her with signs that read “Iron my Shirt”, for instance. Clinton has also found herself faced with the classic dilemma: women in power are expected to act like men, but when they do they are accused of being unlikeable.

Myers feels it is important to acknowledge certain differences between the sexes, for example, according to recent research into male and female brains, women are hard-wired to defuse conflict. “I think many differences are rooted in biology and reinforced through culture,” says Myers, “ If you say men and women are the same and if male behaviour is the norm, we will never be as good at being men as men are.”

She finds that while sporting prowess is considered a key indicator of leadership potential in the US, bringing up children - which builds skills such as diplomacy, team-playing and flexibility - is undervalued.

However, it is not just sexism that keeps women out of power. At times, she says, women undermine themselves. “We don’t raise our hands for promotions, we don’t take credit for our accomplishments.”

Researching her book, Myers interviewed a number of successful women, including the late Anita Roddick, who said that women are not comfortable with the concept of power. “They see what it’s done to men and they want no bloody part of it,” Roddick said. When Myers asked women if they considered themselves powerful, they tended to reject the term. “But if you asked them if they like the ability to make a difference, they loved that.”

She is optimistic that younger women will step on to the public stage, motivated partly by seeing other females in power. “Women in senior jobs still represent all womankind and aren’t allowed to fail quite as much [as men], but I am encouraged to see women are being elected in Chile, Argentina, Liberia, Ireland.” She pauses briefly. “More is more.” •
Why Women Should Rule the World, by Dee Dee Myers, is published by HarperCollins on April 7, priced £14.99

Condensed from Sharon Krum's article. I hope I have not misrepresented her in any way.

I'm a barefoot kinda person

I did this for the sheer fun, and because I really can't be bothered with shoe-obsessions.

You Are Bare Feet You are a true free spirit, and you can't be tied down. Even wearing shoes can be a little too constraining for you at times! You are very comfortable in your own skin. You are one of the most real people around. You don't have anything to hide. Open and accepting, you are willing to discuss or entertain almost any topic. You are a very tolerant person. You are accepting and not judgmental. You should live: Somewhere warm You should work: At your own business, where you can set the rules

What Kind of Shoe Are You?

What these things really tell me is that I'd rather waste time than do something more constructive! Tolerant, huh? That's a two-edged quality if ever there was one.

Barn Owl hunting

This afternoon about 5pm we saw a barn owl flying low along the hedge where we were driving.

This photograph isn't much good, as I took it from inside the car. We had stopped to watch it as it perched. For about five minutes it flew along field edges and followed the river bank, then returned. Maybe it was out early to hunt for food after last night's snow. It's the best view I have had of an owl in the wild. Harry has taken some better camcorder shots with a decent zoom.

Happy White Easter

I love snow. I wait for it all through December, January and February.

By March I want spring flowers. I want to feel that summer's on its way.

Still, it's a pretty sight, though it's already melting by a quarter to eleven and the road outside is just car tracks through the slush.

I should have jumped out of my warm bed and gone for a brisk walk in the virgin whiteness, but I didn't.

Otters, owls and wild boar

These beasts, viewed safely from behind a fence, live at the New Forest Otter and Owl Sanctuary, along with many other animals, from wallabies and badgers to tiny harvest mice, which move so quickly I couldn't manage a photo. There are also a couple of hand-reared rescue deer which enjoy chewing scarves and shoelaces while you're wearing them.
The wild boar and his family seem to lead a fairly placid life. He has a ferocious-looking set of tusks, and is no lightweight. I don't know how many live in the wild in England, but I would hate to corner one.

Writers' Dock Poetry Competition

This competition closes on March 31st. Cost £3 for one poem, £6 for three. First prize £100.

WD is a website which started when the BBC Get Writing site closed in 2005. Writers of all standards can post their work and discuss it with others. The emphasis is on constructive feedback, rather than simply telling people their work is great or crap.

I've been a moderator on there for about two and a half years alongside a dedicated and competent bunch of people.

Something silly.

Time to lighten up a bit. :-)

Written from prompts - Ladies limited; feminine fayre;women's world;galactic girl; female fascination

This lady should limit the length of her legs,
lissom and lithe though she is.
She’s lost sight of the light, in the dark of the night
and can’t find her toes in her tights.

The feminine fayre was a fayre for the fair -
no feminist fairies invited,
so they waved their wild wands in the woods of the west,
and scorned the affairs of the flighty.

A world where all women would wander and wave,
a globe for the wise and the free.
But alas with no men the magic was gone
they had to make love to a tree.

But the girl from a golden galaxy grinned
with a mouth that was wide and enticing.
She yawned like a cave mouth and swallowed the lot
just like cake with a marzipan icing

A fascinating female foiled a fight
by showing a glimpse of a garter.
The poor helpless male was caught by the tail,
and she told him 'Stop playing the martyr.'

Oh dear, I rant...

Oh, I missed a couple! BBC homepage mentions in its History section, that in 1975 the UN created International Women's Day to 'commemorate the historic struggle to improve women's lives'.

And on MSN you can click to find out more about 'American women who changed the world' as part of Women's History Month.

Local Events look more promising - Radio Northamptonshire is reporting several local sporting events for women, and (I think this is this year) Birkenhead has also held an event for local women.
I had to search to find these though.

BBC has some pics from around the world.

International Women's Day? Is it?

I can find very little about this in the news online.

AOL has its usual front page of celeb bad boob jobs, fit celebs with gorgeous bodies, weather 'babes'. Two other mentions of women or girls - Margaret Thatcher's 'hospitalization', and a murder victim. Oh well, I guess it's a bad day.

The Guardian has three films about key issues that affect women in the developing world Why International Women's Day matters.

The Independent has an article about intellectual women ending with the words 'Women beware women.' I only found this by searching for an article about women in the opinion section.

The Telegraph has an interesting article about male and female sexuality in France.

Maybe I'm looking in the wrong places, but IWD is not hitting me in the face.

International Women's Day

My attempt to explain and publicise this Day.

• We women have it all ways. All jobs are open to us. No-one judges us on our looks any more. We have sex with anyone, male or female, who attracts us. We have nurseries, nannies or au pairs to look after our children. We have supportive partners who share housework, cooking and childcare.
  Isn’t this true? So, why do we need a special Day? Surely this battle has been won.
  
  This year's theme is ‘Shaping Progress’ and events all over the world are being held today and throughout March. These events celebrate the centuries of struggle for equality and justice, and the real achievements of women. They also encourage women to continue to fight any remaining obstacles. And many do remain.
  
  Some shocking facts.
  
  According to The Independent, last year Thursday March 8th 2007, in the world as a whole:
  
  Women produce half the world's food, but own less than 2 per cent of the land.
  
  Of the more than 1 billion people living in extreme poverty, 70% are women
  
  Half of all murdered women are killed by their current or former husbands or partners
  
  Two thirds of the world's 800 million illiterate adults are women.
  
  2 million girls aged from 5 to 15 join the commercial sex market every year.
  
  Violence against women causes more deaths and disabilities amongst women aged from 15 to 44 than cancer, malaria, traffic accidents or war.
  
  From the Guardian (6.3.08)
  In Britain women fill only 14.5% of non-executive board positions. One in four of the FTSE 100 boards has no women at all. The number of women holding executive directorships in FTSE 100 companies fell last year to the lowest level for nine years.
  
  And of course, most women still work in the notoriously underpaid fields of health, caring, catering, shop-work and education.
  
  I’m not a feminist but…
  Feminism has become a dirty word. Many women arguing a feminist case, will begin by saying, ‘I’m not a feminist, but…’ Most feminists don’t hate men, but simply want men and women to have equal opportunities and equal responsibilities. Feminism is about women (and men) going beyond the traditional limitations of their gender.
  
  Men and women are not the same.
  There are differences between the sexes, but these differences are not so great as the differences between individuals. Gender differences are often exaggerated by the way we dress boys and girls, and treat them differently . Children are encouraged to conform to the stereotypical view of a girl or a boy. This is constantly reinforced by scientific articles about gender differences, and children’s needs, backed up by often misleading headlines.
  Why can we not raise children to act as human beings first, who happen to be male or female?

World Book Day March 6th

The UK and Ireland celebrate this on March 6th, so that schools can be involved. In most other countries, it's April 23rd.

This morning the postman rang the doorbell, and handed me a package - Joanne Harris's 'Lollipop Shoes', a sequel to 'Chocolat'. A late Mothers' Day present. How well my daughter knows me.

I have read most of Joanne Harris's work, and especially like the short stories, 'Jigs and Reels' and 'Five Quarters of the Orange' which deals with the topic of collaboration in wartime France.

The film of 'Chocolat', while beautiful to watch, doesn't entirely do justice to the darker side of this writer's imagination. I think she writes beautifully.

Keeping track of myself

OK. Last month I planned to post at least a short piece each day on WD - it didn't happen, but I wasn't too far off, and I have been blogging.
And since I last totted it all up (February 23rd), I've written a sonnet for a challenge. Topic (chosen by me) anything but love. I was all Valentined out after last month's challenge.
I've also posted a couple of very quickly written flash poems from prompts.

We've been discussing the 'to be continued' story idea - someone writes about 100 words, and others add their 100 words to it. At least two of us admit we have trouble writing endings.
So next week, I'm going to post 100 words, and we'll use it in two ways. One will be as normal, as the start of a story. For the second version, others will write the 100 words leading up to that situation, and so on backwards. Until we arrive at a beginning?

Happy St David's Day...

...and a grand new month to play with as well. I know, I should take stock too, but let me have a couple of cups of tea first, and seek out some photos of daffodils.

March has roared in like a noisy lion over here. According to folkore that's good news for later on in the month.

Mwah from moondreamer

Thanks to the generous and ever-informative and inspirational moondreamer who has passed on the 'mwah' award to me.

I am having trouble copying the picture small enough for some reason. No don't tell me, I'll work it out. And then to find anyone who hasn't already received this one...

Energy Saving Day? Oops!

I blinked and I missed it.
The first I heard about E-Day was when someone mentioned it on Writers' Dock at 7.20pm, almost an hour and a half after it was supposed to start. I don't listen to radio or watch TV as much as I used to, so it could just be that I was ill-informed. However it seems to have been one of the biggest non-events in recent months.

I quote from the article on the BBC website . My comments are in bold type.

The E-Day concept started life as Planet Relief, an awareness-raising BBC TV programme with a significant comedy element.
Why do we have to have comedy with everything ?
But in September the BBC decided to pull the project, saying viewers preferred factual or documentary programmes about climate change.
Thanks, guys.
The decision came after poor audiences for Live Earth, and public debate over whether it was the corporation's role to "save the planet". Dr Prescott then decided to see whether he could mount E-Day as an independent operation, and secured the backing of important partners such as the National Grid and the UK's major energy companies.
As though we're going to do what these people suggest, when we're constantly bombarded with information about how much money they make out of us.

Funny how we're all so ready to complain about the cost of energy and the price of fuel, when one of the reasons we pay so much, is simply that we waste so much.

Now E-Day has been such a flop, I guess it will turn into a joke. We have such a cool sense of humour:
'Ho ho, let's make today energy wasting day.'
'I'm going to switch everything on at once for an hour.'

Well, I hope Earth Hour has more success. Or don't we care at all? (See my blog January 25th)

On yer bike!

The swimming pool was taken up with a schools gala, so we took to the road again this afternoon. Red kites are becoming a common sight, and the two we saw today were close enough for their markings to be clear. Of course, by the time I had extricated my camera from my bum bag, and found the right buttons, the birds had flown off.

Then I saw what I thought were two large woolly sheep, until they lifted their heads. No, sheep don't have necks that long. Alpacas, or llamas? I'm not sure. And by the time I had the camera out, they had their heads down grazing again. Besides which, my zoom is nowhere near good enough for detail at that distance.

It was hard work today - a longer ride than Monday, and quite a struggle against the wind.

No great shakes?

I have vague memories of a couple of small earth tremors in childhood, too vague to talk about.
Another happened while I was teaching at the top of a four-storey building. This may have been in 1984, but I wouldn't swear to that. I didn't feel it, perhaps because I was standing and moving around, but the kids did.
Then there was the one under Dudley in September 2002. This measured 5.0 on the Richter scale, and happened in the early morning. I woke up under the impression that someone was shaking the bed. I spent the next two hours listening to Radio Five reports from various places in the country.
We experienced a small one (4.1) in San Francisco on August 2nd 2006 - the epicentre was Glen Ellen, near Santa Rosa , about 60 miles north. Harry was making the evening meal. He said it felt as though some huge animal had run past the window. I felt as though someone had given my armchair a hefty push.
Early this morning , a roaring noise woke me up and then it felt as though someone had grabbed the bed and given it a good shaking. The epicentre was near Lincoln and, according to the BBC, the quake/tremor measured 5.2. This time I turned over and went back to sleep. How blasé is that?

Cabin fever and a breath of spring

This morning, sunny, still cold, even windy. And yet, I felt I needed to use my bike for the first time since around November.

So off I went on the standard seven mile ride around the Welland Valley. The floods have gone completely now, and the river is at its lowest for several weeks.

Nothing of note, no red kites, no kingfishers, just me in my bright yellow wind and rain proof top.

On the way back I stopped to take a couple of snaps of this 'welly wall' - the work of the local 'beaver scout' group.

Yeah? Write?

Ok this month's 'score' - nothing submitted to anywhere serious.

On Writers' Dock I have posted:

• one challenge poem;
• three flash poems - written from a prompt in less than 30 minutes - usually a lot less;
• three flash 'stories' or more likely 'writing dumps' or 'expressions' - again from prompts and taking less than 30 mins;
• eighteen mini-epsiodes of stories (up to 100 words).

The mini-episodes are more fun than I expected, though it can be frustrating when someone changes a character's personality, or (in one of these stories) whizzes everyone off in the time machine, just as I thought I'd set up an interesting situation.

Hey, it might just teach me a little about plot and character though.

All of these have something in common. Because they're all generated by an external stimulus, I feel less exposed and less constrained by the writing that emerges from them. Interesting.

Are we font snobs?

It’s clear; it’s simple; it’s easier for dyslexics to read. Why do so many people hate Comic Sans?

Is it too informal? Does it give a false impression of being friendly? Or has it been overused by teenagers and those who wish to appeal to them?

I’d love to know.

And I'm really disappointed - I thought I'd invented the phrase 'font snob', but googled and there are loads of examples of its use. Ho hum. It seems there is indeed nothing new.

Eclipse eclipsed

At half past ten
a full moon shone
surrounded by a halo

By three am
the cloud had come
and thereby hangs no tale-o.

Winter

Three, four days of glorious sunshine. Icy nights, chilly days, but sun and blue skies. Today, fog and hoar frost on the trees, a painter and tracer of outlines more meticulous and accurate than a human artist. Waiting for it all to drip, drip away.

We’ve been doing family stuff - birthdays, cooking food – two days of hearty meals and puddings. Baked lemon pudding just to test the recipe, and Devil's Food Cake to celebrate. We were ready for them after walking, one day along the farm track, the next day, out in Fineshade woods, where we saw our first ever siskins (as far as we know) on a window feeder, and soon afterwards in the trees eating the seeds from pine cones. A couple of birdwatchers pointed these out to us, or we'd probably never have known what they were. The one on the feeder flew off before the cameras were ready, and the ones in the tree were out of range. There is a  picture on the RSPB page  .  It's a great site for info and you can hear each bird's song as well.
Later we passed a contender for the title of 'world's grumpiest birdwatcher' with a face like an old zinc garden bucket, battered into odd planes and angles. Our greeting was obviously over-familiar and unwelcome, for it was met with a disapproving stare. Just our interpretation, of course.

Good timing?

It can't be coincidence.

On Valentine's Day, Findmypast.com sent me an email about how many new burial records they have, including details of Thomas Hardy's burial - the ashes in Westminster Abbey, Poets' Corner, and the heart at Stinsford, in Dorset. No he wasn't buried on 14th Feb, but on 11th January 1928.

The death of Thomas Hardy in 1928 resulted in much deliberation. His executor wanted him to receive a burial befitting his status and insisted upon his being interred at Poet's Corner, in Westminster Abbey. This decision seemed to directly oppose Hardy's own wishes, namely to be buried near his parents in his beloved Dorset. A compromise was reached whereby Hardy's ashes were set amongst the great and good and his heart was laid to rest in St Michael's Church, Stinsford, with his first wife Emma.

Either they, or I, or all of us, have a warped sense of humour. Or maybe it's the ultimate in 'romantic'?

And now for something quite different - here's my contribution to romance on a grand scale.

The Science of Attraction

Hey, don’t slag us off if we fail to find your mate.
It’s complicated setting up an online date.
Though the algorithm’s perfect, you are not.
You think you’re pretty cool, but he’s not so hot.

We try to match your neurochemistry,
align your psychometric similarity,
adjust our information by the dyadic scale.
It's a hell of a surprise if all that should fail.

When push comes to shove, will he be the one
who can make you laugh? Will he turn you on?
Will he light your fire, or rub your sacred itch?
If not, it's down to life, she's a perfect bitch.

Recycle it.

Ok, I get excited about silly little things. Who knows how much difference this makes? But surely something is better than nothing. I've been annoyed at having to chuck these in the non-recyclables for a while.

Spotted this morning outside a local supermarket:

Good vibrations....meme

A meme from moondreamer...Five ways to 'raise your vibrations' (aside from operating a pneumatic drill?)



Walking, always walking - in the countryside, in the hills, in the city, on my own with a camera, with friends, with family. This is a picture from today's walk.

Swimming - We usually go once a week - I love the water, and the way swimming feels like gliding. If it's warm enough I especially like swimming outside, in the sea, or a lake.

Travelling from place to place, preferably with no timetable to keep to, on my own or with others. I like driving or taking public transport. Once we cycled and camped for two weeks. I think Bruce Chatwin was right - we are a nomadic species.

Reading and writing - for the escape from the everyday.

Watching Mastermind and University Challenge - though why they make me feel good is a mystery. I can't answer many questions.

There are other things which I do from time to time, like knitting, making bits of patchwork, and I really should start playing the keyboard and weaving again. Hey, I haven't mentioned surfing the internet either.

I'm going to tag Rich Sampson

Public Lending Right - petition

Someone has brought my attention to the following. I've copied it directly from the petition page. It won't affect me in my unpublished state, but it is one thing I don't object to giving some of my taxes to.

PLR’s funding settlement for the three year period 2008/09 – 2010/11 has been announced by the Department for Culture, Media and Sport. The figures are as follows:

2007/08 (current funding) = £7,682,000

2008/09 = £7,432,000

2009/10 = £7,582,000

2010/11 = £7,682,000

A reduction in PLR funding will adversely affect the earnings of thousands of UK authors and illustrators. Many are self-employed, and in an industry as unpredictable as publishing, the annual PLR payment is a highly valued and reliable contribution to earnings. The Government is urged to retain the current funding level (2007/08) for PLR for each of the next three years. There should be no reduction in funding

If you wish you can sign the petition here.

All the cows of the rainbow.

Blue cow?
Moo cow.

Red cow?
Dead cow.

Yellow cow?
Mellow cow.

Green cow?
Mean cow.

Indigo cow?
Where’d ‘e go, cow?

Violet cow?
File it, cow.

Orange cow?
Don’t be silly.
Everyone knows nothing rhymes with orange.

This took about five minutes - and it shows. I think it needs pictures. A rainbow for each couplet, with colours merging into the appropriate cow.

It was another flash - prompt 'blue cow'.

To write perchance?

I would like to set myself a modest task - in February to average one brief post per day on WD. I really did very little writing for any sort of audience in January.

So far I have posted two flash poems, one poem for a 'challenge', and three 100-word parts of a communal story. That's six items by the 11th. I've been away for four days, but I ought to do better than this.

I have commented on several poems, some in detail. I have written the blog, and my own personal notes.

Back to civilisation?

,A Yorkshire speciality I forget about until I see one. Then I have to have it. Curd tart.Back in the big city. Could be anywhere, but this is Leeds.

Yorkshire continued

Lunchtime, in the shelter (if you ducked down a bit) of a dry-stone wall. This water wheel in Marske beck was on our way down.
But there was still some uphill work, and the ground was wet.
The petrol station in Kettlewell.
Melmerby Moor at sunset.

A few days In Yorkshire

Coverdale runs between Wensleydale and Wharfedale. We were at Melmerby, about four miles from Leyburn.This was the view from my bedroom window at about 7 am.
If I looked to the right I could see this tree. The clouds were scudding in one direction and birds - rooks or crows - were flying directly into the wind.
When I saw this sign I thought someone wanted to keep peasants like us out. I'd never seen the word 'pheasantry' before, but my dictionary assures me it exists.
We followed a route from a book called Walks with a Pushchair. These all-terrain pushchairs are pretty tough. Luckily the three 'pushers' were tough as well. I may be over-dramatising slightly in the picture above, but the terrain was pretty rough.
Isaac was certainly wrapped up warm. It was windy.

Thank you, moondreamer

Thanks to moondreamer for this award. My big problem now is to find 10 people who haven't had one yet...Give me time
And watch this space.

Home again

I'm back from the wilds of Yorkshire - I don't realise how much I've been missing the hills and dales until I see them again.

I hope to catch up later today or tomorrow.

Bloggery, MP3 ...and snowdrops

I've often said that my mind is like a vacuum cleaner, it sucks up all the rubbish. And often drops it back on the floor. But there are nuggets of gold in there, and , since I'm also a magpie, or a jackdaw, and love gathering shiny objects, blogging suits me perfectly.



I've just been downloading a few files to listen to as I drive up to Yorkshire today. One of them was Sally's story, The Donkey Driver's Wife. I shall listen to it as I drive through the Notts-Derbys (ex) coalfield.

I said the other day that all our snowdrops had disappeared. I found some poking through the gravel outside our garden shed.

Charles Simic

I just came across this interview with the 'Poet Laureate of the United States' , Charles Simic.
He seems very down-to-earth. I didn't even know there was a poet laureate of the US. I enjoyed his comments about 'happiness', especially the very last answer in the interview.

What advice would you give to people who are looking to be happy? For starters, learn how to cook.

St Brigid's Day poetry in cyberspace

A day or two late but I've just come across this poetry reading in cyber-space for St Brigid's day, February 2nd.

You post a poem of your own or someone else's on your blog and link to the page. Maybe next year.

Shock Horror - Myth Exposed

Exposed : myth that convenience food is unhealthy.

Another case of the headlines telling one story, the details saying something a little different.
This article in the Independent on Sunday online has all the LOOK AT ME tactics you'd expect from a tabloid, or an advertising campaign funded by convenience food manufacturers.
Read the article more closely, and you'll discover ( surprise, surprise) that frozen fruit and veg are very healthy, that if you add high-fat ingredients such as cream to home-cooked food, you are increasing their (unhealthy) fat content, and that it takes more time to cook from scratch. No news there, then. But there we go - the 'myth' has been 'exposed'.

A walk in the wind

We went outside in the sunshine and walked for a couple of hours.
The massed snowdrops were the best I've seen so far this year. The ones in my garden have vanished.



This fine figure of a youth stands on a hill in front of a copse. We saw him from the path, and had to investigate in spite of the Private, No Public Right of Way sign . I wonder who he is, with his cloak, his fig-leaf and his right arm leaning on a treetrunk with a snake coiled round it. He stands on a hefty plinth with carvings on.

He probably belonged to Blatherwycke Hall, which was demolished in 1948. The Hall was used by troops in World War 2, and was in a poor state.


We were making our way back down the hill, when the landowner arrived in an impressive vehicle, pulling over directly into our path. 'I hope you're not causing damage, ladies. Now, I think you'd better stick to the path today. The lake's private, you know, and there's a shoot on. ' So, we were warned. I don't think we looked like vandals, but you never can tell. I suppose we might have been shoot saboteurs.

These plants, in a narrow strip along the field edge, look a bit like maize. I hoped the photo would capture the movement of the dry leaves in the wind.




We followed the path across a footbridge, over the road, and through the woods, along a disused railway line and past a bridge that looked ready to collapse.



We walked past Fineshade Abbey - an eighteenth century building on the site of a previous Priory. Only the stables remain now, and someone lives there. In front of the buildings a flock of friendly horned sheep, with brown and white coats, stopped their grazing and came over to see what we had to offer. This one was happy when I stroked it. Are they Jacob's sheep?




After all this we had lunch in the cafe, walked back to the car, and drove home before the sleet arrived.


Oh yes, we found plenty of mud, and I was glad of the plastic bags.

Happy New Month

The month has begun with brilliant sunshine and a very chilly wind. I'm going out for a walk this morning with a friend, to take a few pictures, and chat. It may be a day for my patent waterproofing - a plastic food bag over each sock, before I put my boots on. It could be muddy out there.