Three blogs in one day !
I’ve just got home and heard the sadness of the death of Betty Boothroyd
She was a bloody one off
A class act
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Betty
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Ruins
Recently, when I undertook two long walks north of Huddersfield, I got chatting to a man in the car park at Scammoden. He told me that on the moorland above Deanhead Reservoir he had just visited a long-abandoned farm - now in ruins. He became animated about it and asked me, "When you visit a ruin are you like me? You close your eyes and you think of the folk who lived or worked there? It's like they are there with you."
I beamed with delight to have encountered a like-minded soul and told him that I felt just the same. I have taken many photos of ruins because for whatever reason I am drawn to them. They sing to me and I know that this is also true for my blogging friend Meike in Ludwigsburg, Germany to whom I dedicated this blogpost. It showcases just six of the ruins I have visited in recent years. You may recognise one or two of them if you have been coming here for any length of time.
At the top is an isolated ruin on Bradwell Moor in Derbyshire. I suspect that it was connected with lead mining in the district. Below is Piel Castle on Piel Island near Barrow-in-Furness. Shirley and I walked there last September. It was constructed in the fourteenth century to protect the Furness Abbey estate
Above is a farm ruin on The Chatsworth Estate. I took this picture just last October and below is the ruin of Girthon Church in Dumfries and Galloway, Scotland. This photo was taken on August 13th 2017 - my son Ian's thirty third birthday:-
Above - one of the ruined lead mine buildings at The Magpie Mine near Sheldon in Derbyshire and finally, below, the ruins of a farm between the villages of Eyam and Stoney Middleton - also in Derbyshire.
I would contend that old ruins frequently possess beauty and a certain majesty for their walls speak of those who went before us in different times - just like the man in the car park said.
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Kindness
In an Istanbul football match yesterday the crowds donated thousands of teddy bears to lift the spirits of the babies and young children caught up in the recent earthquake .
And the.act of giving lifts the human spirit
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Women Talking
I forgot it was half term today.
So no college and no late night home journey.👏🏻
I gave the dogs an extra long walk this afternoon then came to Chester where I treated myself to a beef pitta, coffee strong enough to blow your tits off and a film.
The film is Women Talking .
Sarah Polley’s version of Miriam Toews’ novel which tells the true story of a group of Mennonite Women in an isolated Bolivian community, is a serious watch. A grim and talky piece with a stella cast, has the women beaten, sexually abused and degraded by their men folk.
Taking what time they have together, the women young and old have to decide whether to fight the abuse from within the community, acquiesce to it, or escape to form a new life , albeit one which is excommunicated from their community . The parallels with Weinstein’s Hollywood are only too clear.
Claire Foy shines with anger as Salome as does Rooney Mara and the powerhouse Jessie Buckley and their scenes are compelling to watch but, after a while the film feels as though it’s constrained and is what it is ….a sort of filmed play
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Believe and updates
Control
Don’t have it
Want it
But God
Says no
It brings
You to much
Power
Too much anxiety
To rest
You must trust
And let go
Of what you’ve
Thought
Believed
And held dear
Eye update. No change. Letting God take it. Pray that I can accept His guidance, His love and what I can’t see. He does.
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Badgers
It was around four when I heard Albert “ Chatter”
It’s a funny sound and a rare one in this house as I can only liken it to a very small person shaking a very tiny set of maracas.
Cats usually chatter at birds that they can’t reach or ambush and Albert is no different
But the chatter was in the middle of the night
And the only birds around at that time are a pair of barn owls that swoop silently across the valley from Marion Mawr.
Albert was sat in the window seat looking down into the lane with wide yellow eyes.
I got up and wrapped the quilt cover around my shoulders and joined him.
He moved over without averting his gaze.
He was watching a pair of badgers in the lane who were trotting after each other somewhat playfully.
February is the mating season for badgers.
Living in the country has its upsides and downsides. But how many people can say that they have watched badgers courting outside their windows at night?
Not very many.
The boar wagged his fat bottom as he trotted into the garden and stopped to listen as Roger sleepily barked once from the kitchen.
They pottered and played for a while like hairy pigs.
Badgers are noisy animals and grunt and snort when they explore and as I grew cold I left them too it and returned to bed where Dorothy spooned me without waking up.
I heard Albert chatter some more before everything returned to a sort of silence again
I asked my google cube what time it was
It’s now chatting as a butch man and told me in a manly way that it was 4.22 am
I asked it to play a tropical rain shower which it did and I fell asleep almost immediately with no dreams of badgers or of Pedro Pascal or of anything of note for that matter
Day off today.
A walk,
Some shopping,
And theatre later with Gorgeous Dave
We are seeing the stage version of The Shawshank Redemption
I’ve just put out the reclycling and saw a few untidy holes in the borders of the front garden
The badgers have removed many of my spring bulbs from beside the stone wall.
And tufts of grey hair can be seen stuck in the lower branches of the hydrangea that faces the West
You can’t complain
Not when you’ve left the gate open
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