Tuesday, 21st May

It is Tuesday, my world has moved too quickly.  Paul is in hospital undergoing tests.  Hopefully he should be back today.

He had been ill for sometime, refusing to go to the doctors, think the last time was in 1986.  So yesterday morning, I phoned the doctor's surgery with a lot of grumbling from him.  They fitted him in and the doctor arranged for tests at York hospital same day.  Whenever you think about the NHS remember it is one of the finest things about this country, and don't let it go under the auspicious of that foolish man Farage, who would sell our services to American firms.

Coming home we packed a bag, and dear Christina, agreed to come to show us the back road through the villages to the busy metropolis of York city.  I am not a confident driver, country lanes are fine, ring roads round York are absolutely full of traffic.  We managed fine.  Settled Paul in a small ward, he had a window overlooking trees, and by yesterday evening he had had some tests.  I had joked that the surprise element is going into a ward of 'older' people, you suddenly realise you are elderly to ;)

I had asked Irene to pop in on Lucy, Lucy, loves both these friends, though Irene is deaf (just like Lucy), I wasn't sure how they would communicate together.

Irene came round and offered to accompany me today, though she and her husband had been planning to go to Whitby for a couple of days, what would we do without friends? So at some stage I shall know how my day will unfold.

Saturday 18th May

Veronica

Well I haven't read it but The Victorians by Jacob Rees Mogg is hardly getting great reviews, just to quote, "A staggeringly silly piece of writing on history". Cannot it be that this foolish man is a man trying to run the country, as for the other idiot in this saga of present history Boris Johnson - what hope for our bewildered country?

Life is a little boring in this part of the country, the weather has turned cold, some planting to do, Lucy wants a bath and a clip, though she hasn't asked for it ;).

I have just been looking for a book or two written by Barry Lopez, but note how Amazon bustles in on every scene, we are being taken over by these giant commercialized megalomaniacs.  They follow us through our morning read of the papers nagging in the background.

Paul (and I for a time) watched an Australian film called Secret City , on Netflix it gives a slightly different picture of Australia, (that Commonwealth country we are aspiring to when we leave Brexit - yeah).  Well, it may be a little different given its proximity to China, of course it is only a made up story but rather worrying all the same as it follows the theme we are experiencing at the moment with Huawei and eavesdropping by the Chinese . China like Amazon is also in the process of taking over the world, what will the rest of us do I wonder?  Perhaps Climate Change will alter the facts, I noted elsewhere yesterday that the Guardian is using different terminology to describe Climate Change,  

Instead of “climate change” the preferred terms are “climate emergency, crisis or breakdown” and “global heating” is favoured over “global warming”, although the original terms are not banned.

‘Extraordinary thinning’ of ice sheets revealed deep inside Antarctica

 

Read more

“We want to ensure that we are being scientifically precise, while also communicating clearly with readers on this very important issue,” said the editor-in-chief, Katharine Viner. “The phrase ‘climate change’, for example, sounds rather passive and gentle when what scientists are talking about is a catastrophe for humanity.”

Take note!

But to more mundane matters, coffee needs to be made, and Lucy's breakfast.

Farming;  till 10.30 last night the tractors roared by with truck loads of grass presumably for silage, they have continued this morning.

Negative and positive happenings;

Happy that I finished the above, but not so happy with the turquoise silk I dyed.  Too dark, and also silk is a bit fuzzy after spinning, do I need to spin one ply with wool? then it colours differently on each strand.

https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/the-victorians-by-jacob-rees-mogg-book-review-zqltrw5rz

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2019/may/15/the-victorians-jacob-rees-mogg-review

Thursday 16th May

Yesterday I planted a new pear tree and an evergreen lonicera, except it is a shrub. The plum trees will not produce this year, maybe one or two but that is all.  My potatoes in sacks are up an running should be eatable by June, and the ones in the bed, if they survive the bantams scratching dust beds, are coming up.

Another glorious day, but the news is full of Jeremy Kyle.  Since when is the barbaric cruelty of putting people in front of the cameras and then tearing them apart going to stop?  The judge was right, it is just bear-baiting but there are other programmes that need fixing as well.

Well how are you voting in the European elections.  Did you get a polling card to start with? I got one because I had opted for a postal vote in the recent council election, but Pauls is absent for some reason.  It just shows the muddle this B***** campaign has brought to us, dates move on, and the country thinking we would be out, has left us once more dangling on a thread of not knowing.

Rather liked this, though delicate is not a word I would use for some art.........

A murder of crows

Two things plucked from yesterday;  A video of life in a Mayan village, following the principles of Permaculture.  When you know such words as swales, guilds of trees, forest garden and zoning of plants, then you will know what is happening here in Quixaya Heart of Water.  

In an idyllic valley these people who have inherited the land from the plantation owner (who went bust) now grow their food on the sides of the valley, accompanied by the musicial sound of water as it cascades down the valley.  But there is a viper in this paradise, and that is plastic rubbish from the outside world.  No answer yet as it also tumbles down the hillside, I am not sure how we in our world will address the problem either, the recycling lorry has been and just taken our rubbish but where does it go?

Interesting article on Wild Justice and Chris Packham, and most important of all the great Corvid flocks that dominate our landscape.  We have all been there the arguments between those that will save all animal life and the farmers and gamekeepers who kill to preserve different landscapes.

There are some who rate certain birds as rats, fill in your space here, from wood pigeons to seagulls, they need exterminating is the cry.  Crows and the whole corvid class are clever birds, and as an aside so are octupus, but they eat our crops, cause nuisances at the seaside, mess up our grouse moors, where is the right argument??

Potterings ;)

Well here I am dragging up this old blog. Why you may ask, well a couple of unexpected jolts from comments made me think, and so I decided to turn inwards for a time.  Paul also misses the old blog, he should come here and rest in poetry.

The truth of the matter is that a diary has to be attended daily, sometimes I can not find anything to write about, other times, as when I went into the garden this morning to feed the birds, the great rush of contentment at the beauty of the world around me.

Yesterday Rod and his wife mowed the lawns for us, and the garden sprang up from unfettered long grass to a smooth bowling green, edged with the promise of flowers to come.

Feeding the birds, I feed them on the front lawn and as I walk down the sparrows and collared doves follow, landing on the fence and flying down as I scatter the seed.  The great corvine flock also come down as I depart, and Lucy also demands  a scrap of bread.  All that is a routine, when it is accompanied by sunny weather, the promise of a good summer is there also.

So what have I been doing as I weave, well for a start plenty of fiction on the BBC you can find, listening to the rather pompous tones of Will Self on Youtube, I wonder when we will have to pay to listen?  Being famous for having opinions of course gets you into trouble, but Will Self did not hold well against the more measured intellectualism of Nial Ferguson.  Read an article about Alistair Campbell as well, you know the man we would groan about, but his depression and mental confusion was a stark reminder that we can't always judge people from press reports on the media.

Yesterday I went into Pickering, hopefully to buy some slippers, but Pickering is a bit low on slippers, the market man wasn't there, he comes from Manchester.  This I was told by the person who was selling odd pieces of vintage material (some of which I bought) and she was rather worried by his absence. Next I bought some crab, a scoopful to be precise, as one whole crab would have cost near £7 and I am not that keen, for a moment it reminded me of the village of Solva and the dressed crab for sale there.  Such a term as dressed crab makes me giggle, frilly dress or what?  Next was the wool shop, which also has an exciting display of old garden bits and bobs outside, I wanted some cottons for weaving.  Sometimes you wonder how shops survive, wool shops are not exactly making money hand over fist, but it is what makes people happy working amongst the tools of their trade.

Lastly the pet shop for a bed for Lucy, not that she has used it since, she spends a certain amount of the evening scratching up all the rugs, nesting I suppose.

Mid Wansdyke

Bath to London Roman Road

Vortigen on mid Wansdyke

1) From Kingsdown the Roman Road

2) Roman Road follows a straight path to Sandy Lane (Verlucio - Roman Station)

The Combe By Edward Thomas

The Combe was ever dark, ancient and dark.
Its mouth is stopped with brambles, thorn, and briar;
And no one scrambles over the sliding chalk
By beech and yew and perishing juniper
Down the half precipices of its sides, with roots
And rabbit holes for steps. The sun of Winter,
The moon of Summer, and all the singing birds
Except the missel-thrush that loves juniper,
Are quite shut out. But far more ancient and dark
The Combe looks since they killed the badger there,
Dug him out and gave him to the hounds,
That most ancient Briton of English beasts.