Sunday, July 31, 2011
Lammas Eve
Once upon a time true Brits. used to have their harvest festival on this day. So it is entirely appropriate that today, which happens to be Lammas Eve, yielded the first picking of blackberries, picking two or three pounds from just one cluster of bushes - the cluster on the common side of the junction between Christchurch Road and Horton Lane - in around an hour. Now safely frozen (on trays) and bagged up in the fridge awaiting duty as a tarter up of cooking apple puddings later in the year.
But I also record a mild annoyance with the food packaging industry. Tins of tuna fish come about half full, so despite the fact that the tin does give gross and net weights, one still has the illusion of buying a lot more tuna fish than one actually is, to the point where it would not be too difficult for one person to down an entire tin, wrapped in white bread and cucumber, in one sitting. Not to mention the waste of tin can. As far as I can make out all the suppliers of tuna fish play the same game so no-one is winning. And as far as I can remember, the tins are less full than they were when I was a child. The packers still played the game, but not quite so hard. One more of the wonders of the workings of the free market.
The next matter of record is the two sea marks we went to see during our stay on the Isle of Wight (see September 2nd 2010).
The first sea mark was the former church of St. Helen at St. Helens. We have been there before, but I had completely forgotten that just before it fell into Bembridge Harbour in 1703, it was decided to convert the tower into a sea mark. So we now have a tall brick wall, painted white, and pointing out to sea.
The plaque on the mark also told us that the stones from other parts of the church were picked up by passing naval ships, the crews of which used them to scrub the decks, the stones becoming known as holystones. I remember that they appear in Hornblower books (a gift from a Canadian aunt. Long gone but this particular edition of three (MHR, SoTL & FC) fetches a fancy price in book fairs); not sure if they made it to the films and television series of same. For some reason, I remember that I always read them as 'holly' rather than 'holy', wondering the while what they had to do with holly. More evocative, this mark was more or less the place from which Admiral Nelson embarked for the Battle of Trafalgar in September 1805. Presumably something to do with victualling: I think that the island was an important source of vittals at the time. Did Lady H. have a discrete love-nest tucked into the downs somewhere?
The second sea mark was that on Ashey Down. On this particular day it was rainy so it was another opportunity for me to wear my stockman's coat (see January 11th) while walking with the cows which were grazing on the down. A first. As it happened, an interesting mixture of cows, mainly the black and white sort, some with horns and some quite young, but with a few of the long orange haired, long horned jobs from up north thrown in. We also thought that one of them was a bull. It was certainly of bull size & shape and we thought it imprudent to get close enough to be sure. As it happened, none of the beasts took any interest in us while we strolled up to the mark and down again. Unlike some other beast days when the beasts take it in their heads to follow one about. I have heard that this can sometimes be quite a pain if one is trying to mend a fence or a hedge or something. Lady cows just as curious as lady humans.
PS: be entertained by the post for July 18th at http://kerrysblahblahblog.blogspot.com/. But the fun seems to be missing from the site for the outfit concerned - http://www.fredmeyer.com/Pages/default.aspx.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Watch yer back Trace!
Two arty snippets caught the eye. Firstly, a lady sculptor (sculptress?) sees fit to suspend a disused fighter plane, covered in deeply significantly graffitti of her own confection, from the dome inside Tate Britain. Much chattering in the Guardian about the deep significance. Secondly, a gentleman sculptor sees fit to exhibit a pyramid of 7 undistinguished office chairs of descending size as one ascends. Note the magic number 7. Much chattering in the Guardian about the deep significance. Trace had clearly better watch her back. Keen and hungry new talent is nipping her no longer impoverished heels. Perhaps it really is time for her to push off to her retirement boozer in the country. I'm told she likes a drop so she can contribute to the local economy by drinking up the takings.
Yesterday to Havenstreet for our biennial circumnavigation of the Valerian Sun Club (a search finds the place fast enough; for some reason the link will not paste between panes of Internet Explorer. Maybe a wrinkle of council defensive software). Carefully screened with lots of brush wood, a plaque from the twenties with the name and what looks like a new-since-our-last-visit gate. Maybe the place is still alive and kicking. Are all the members from the twenties, a time I believe to be the heyday of such establishments?
Start off at Firestone Copse and head south into Havenstreet before doing an anticlockwise swing down to the foot of the central downs and back again. Firestone Copse notable for its groves of very tall pine trees, maybe two feet in diameter waist height. Havenstreet notable as being a stop on the steam railway and for being well supplied with senior and/or nursing facilities. Northbrook House, a large Victorian affair, clearly built as an institution, not on mental hospital scale and apparently without any kind of garden for people to sit in. Holmdale House, a somewhat smaller Victorian affair, possibly built as an institution. But Mr G., apart from confirming that they are indeed senior and/or nursing facilities tells me nothing about the buildings, a pity as they are both interesting. Perhaps Havenstreet was the geriatric ghetto for the Ryde area.
On the way we are reminded that the BH is rather better at fields full of frisky cows than I am. Stands firm and waits for them to push off whereas I lurk in the background. On the other hand I do eventually pluck up courage to extend arms and waggle them up and down a bit - one with stick - a wheeze which seems to encourage pushing off. BH says that her stronger nerves are all down to the quality time in her youth spent in the vicinity of cows on Exminster Marshes.
The Ashey Down sea mark visible for most of the walk. And a strange black banana on a pole visible for a good part of it. A banana made of some shiny black material, maybe 10 feet long and 2 feet wide at the widest point, erected end-up on the top of a flexi pole maybe 30 feet high. The thing sways about in the wind and is visible from miles around. After the walk we went to inspect the thing to find access barred by 'Private Keep Out' signs. A resident thought it might be a trial run for something in advertising, having been there now for a month or so. Did they get planning permission? Is it actually something in art? A rehearsal for the next Turner prize?
Most of the few people we met appeared, from their accents, to be retired from the Home Counties. Which might explain why we came across several large gardens in the middle of nowhere protected by neat, high and carefully clipped hedges. Maybe they want to be able to do a bit of Valerian in the privacy of their own homes.
The walk was, inter alia, the inaugural outing of the new-to-us Jarrolds 'Short Walks for the Isle of Wight'. Subtitled, suitable for seniors. A useful little book, full of all sorts of factlets to enliven one's walk. Nice little maps, taken from Ordnance Survey but slightly larger scale than Landranger. The only catch being that the walk was a bit tricky and one had to keep the book open and one's eye on the stiles if one was not to go off piste. Or, even worse, into a cow field.
Yesterday to Havenstreet for our biennial circumnavigation of the Valerian Sun Club (a search finds the place fast enough; for some reason the link will not paste between panes of Internet Explorer. Maybe a wrinkle of council defensive software). Carefully screened with lots of brush wood, a plaque from the twenties with the name and what looks like a new-since-our-last-visit gate. Maybe the place is still alive and kicking. Are all the members from the twenties, a time I believe to be the heyday of such establishments?
Start off at Firestone Copse and head south into Havenstreet before doing an anticlockwise swing down to the foot of the central downs and back again. Firestone Copse notable for its groves of very tall pine trees, maybe two feet in diameter waist height. Havenstreet notable as being a stop on the steam railway and for being well supplied with senior and/or nursing facilities. Northbrook House, a large Victorian affair, clearly built as an institution, not on mental hospital scale and apparently without any kind of garden for people to sit in. Holmdale House, a somewhat smaller Victorian affair, possibly built as an institution. But Mr G., apart from confirming that they are indeed senior and/or nursing facilities tells me nothing about the buildings, a pity as they are both interesting. Perhaps Havenstreet was the geriatric ghetto for the Ryde area.
On the way we are reminded that the BH is rather better at fields full of frisky cows than I am. Stands firm and waits for them to push off whereas I lurk in the background. On the other hand I do eventually pluck up courage to extend arms and waggle them up and down a bit - one with stick - a wheeze which seems to encourage pushing off. BH says that her stronger nerves are all down to the quality time in her youth spent in the vicinity of cows on Exminster Marshes.
The Ashey Down sea mark visible for most of the walk. And a strange black banana on a pole visible for a good part of it. A banana made of some shiny black material, maybe 10 feet long and 2 feet wide at the widest point, erected end-up on the top of a flexi pole maybe 30 feet high. The thing sways about in the wind and is visible from miles around. After the walk we went to inspect the thing to find access barred by 'Private Keep Out' signs. A resident thought it might be a trial run for something in advertising, having been there now for a month or so. Did they get planning permission? Is it actually something in art? A rehearsal for the next Turner prize?
Most of the few people we met appeared, from their accents, to be retired from the Home Counties. Which might explain why we came across several large gardens in the middle of nowhere protected by neat, high and carefully clipped hedges. Maybe they want to be able to do a bit of Valerian in the privacy of their own homes.
The walk was, inter alia, the inaugural outing of the new-to-us Jarrolds 'Short Walks for the Isle of Wight'. Subtitled, suitable for seniors. A useful little book, full of all sorts of factlets to enliven one's walk. Nice little maps, taken from Ordnance Survey but slightly larger scale than Landranger. The only catch being that the walk was a bit tricky and one had to keep the book open and one's eye on the stiles if one was not to go off piste. Or, even worse, into a cow field.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Sea mark
Yesterday a veggie day with island new potatoes and broad beans for tea. Very nice they were too, the only catch being that the BH woke up to a rather pungent bean smell in the kitchen in the morning.
Compensated to some extent by the sight of a red squirrel scampering across the back lawn. Rather dark red and rather small. One can see why they get seen off by their grey cousins.
Set off to Newport bright and early, sufficiently bright and early that we worked out how to get at the sea mark on Ashey Down, something that we have seen in previous years and that we have seen several times this year but never got to.
It turns out to be an irregularly triangular, tapering masonry piller about 25 feet high and maybe 10 wide at the widest point. Sloping flat top. Bottom 8 feet painted black the rest white. Built in 1735 in the reign of good king George II, presumably as a sort of low maintenance lighthouse. From the base we could see nearly all the sea east of Wight, so presumably the ships on the see could see and navigate by the mark. Also some sea in other directions.
Considering that the thing was only 130 metres above sea level - maybe half the height of St Boniface Down - got a splendid, near 360 degree view. Removed a lump of flint as a souvenir.
Reminded to wonder how level the sea is. It is certainly not the same level all over but on earth how does one measure? Clearly a ponder for the pub.
Compensated to some extent by the sight of a red squirrel scampering across the back lawn. Rather dark red and rather small. One can see why they get seen off by their grey cousins.
Set off to Newport bright and early, sufficiently bright and early that we worked out how to get at the sea mark on Ashey Down, something that we have seen in previous years and that we have seen several times this year but never got to.
It turns out to be an irregularly triangular, tapering masonry piller about 25 feet high and maybe 10 wide at the widest point. Sloping flat top. Bottom 8 feet painted black the rest white. Built in 1735 in the reign of good king George II, presumably as a sort of low maintenance lighthouse. From the base we could see nearly all the sea east of Wight, so presumably the ships on the see could see and navigate by the mark. Also some sea in other directions.
Considering that the thing was only 130 metres above sea level - maybe half the height of St Boniface Down - got a splendid, near 360 degree view. Removed a lump of flint as a souvenir.
Reminded to wonder how level the sea is. It is certainly not the same level all over but on earth how does one measure? Clearly a ponder for the pub.
Thursday, September 02, 2010
Silly season
The silly season continues. When selecting the day's paper, I found that Hague was the most common front page offering. Blair vs. Brown the next most common. And if you really could not stand either of those, the Independant had Hawking on the non-existence of God. Hague strikes me as a decent cove so I feel sorry for him, whereas Blair & Brown deserve each other. Jointly responsible for the collapse of our public finances (amongst other disasters), they should hang their heads in shame, in private. Which is what I think Brown is doing but clearly Blair can't manage without another fix of publicity. I settled for the Guardian which was in Hague camp.
As my own contribution to the silly season, I return to the Ashey Down sea mark (see July 17). I had thought that maybe there was a masonic connection, given its unusual shape, but a mason explained to me that this particular unusual shape meant that the thing had no right angles, which would not do for men on the square. So the next thought was that maybe whoever put the thing up was having a pop at the masons. Perhaps a lady who thought her lord was spending too much time and money on them? Perhaps an evangelical type who thought that masons were the next thing to the devil? Wikipedia's otherwise helpful article on the masons was not helpful on this point.
The other day I had occasion to read the Wikipedia Foundation annual report for, I think, 2008. A short glossy affair, not terribly informative. But they come across as a very worthy crowd whose main interest at that time seemed to be to get more contributors who were not young white middle class types from the rich countries of the west. A worthy objective but one which does not bear on my main meta-interest in Wikipedia which is quality. How do you maintain quality when there is little control on contribution? Which they do seem to do with the articles which I see being of generally good quality, but I do wonder how they do it. I think there is a lot of stuff in Wikipedia about Wikipedia, so one day I will have to take a look and scratch my meta-interest.
Concluding my excursion into the world of Wilde (see August 28 and subsequent posts), I have now finished reading the second version of 'The picture of Dorian Gray', having passed over the first version. A competent thriller, although rather weighed down with recycled epigrams, quotations from the bard, descriptions of fancy furnishings and references to eminent gays of the past. Where by epigrams I mean neat and witty sayings about the length of telegrams - the trouble being that they come across better said than read. Which all reminded me a bit of James Bond books with their loving and long-winded descriptions of London high life of the 50's of the last century. I then wondered why one would bother to publish both versions in one book with a whole lot of notes and background material. But then it dawned on me that having two version of one book would make an excellent subject for study by creative writing students. It might not be a particularly good book, but examination of the differences between the two versions would probably tell you something about how to do plots, mood and so on. Plus the book was written at a time of some ferment in the arty world so the background material probably educational too. All in all a good bit of teaching material to which could be added the 1946 film adaptation.
Which I would not mind seeing myself, now that I have seen the 2009 adaptation and read the book. This second adaptation lays the orgies on good and thick, whereas the book only alludes to them. It takes considerable liberties with the plot while retaining the title device of the picture which grows old instead of its subject growing old. And a subject who remains young and good for all sorts of debauchery. While failing to get over the important idea that Gray gradually comes to disgust first others and then himself.
