June 30th 2014



 

Today I had a bit of fun on Facebook. While faffing about yesterday sorting through some more stuff from the move I came across a vacuum cleaner pipe, as you do. I don't know why but something made me look down the tube and there inside a myriad of scratch marks which gave the effect of a firework exploding in a tunnel. An idea sprang into life. Grabbing my camera I had a play about with some images, and, as it turns out pointing the tube out the window towards the conifer in the garden produced the effect I wanted. Some people thought it was an image from space and I can see why. A few thought an eye, and that was as close to my reason for taking the image in the first place as we're to get. Sometimes looking at life a different way does really work.

June 29th 2014

When I woke up this morning, this Stipa gigantica (or big grass) was in the front garden. Upon retiring tonight it will be enjoying a more sheltered position round the back. I love these big showy grasses and had planted one at the front of the house about 3 years ago. It was happy there, grew well, but everytime it spewed forth its spectacular seed heads, they'd be battered or snap over with the wind. As this is an architectural plant designed to give structure and form in the barren winter garden, having to remove most of its seed heads by the end of summer maybe isn't ideal. The decision was made. As part of the garden revamp, this border is being dug over and re-planned, mainly as the wonderfully atmospheric salvia has become a thug and is rampaging over the garden now. It had to go. This left room for replanting and I thought the Stipa would work well against the wall and a conifer just beyond my boundary in the lane. And it does, with sunlight cascading over its seeds as never before. I love this side of gardening, moving whole mature plants in one swift movement, after having prepared a suitable hole beforehand. I'm less keen on fully mature gardens, I live the excitement of revamp and make-over. Now, I have a spade, so what next.

June 28th 2014

Boys and their toys day today. This is the first weekend since Julie moved over here that we can just "and relax". So as the weather was still sunny and dry (when will we get any rain) a good opportunity to get the garden sorted out. In the winter I began ripping up the decking in the garden. It takes longer than you think, and so unable to get rid of the mountain of timber it has sat lonesome waiting for further orders. From Command HQ then, an order to unleash the circular saw. I didn't really need to do this, but the lengths of scrap decking were too long to get into the car, so needed to be shortened. What a beast. Ripping through the wood like a hot knife in butter within half an hour, and enveloped in a blizzard of sawdust I had it all done and piled neatly for my now daily trip to the tip tomorrow. So by the time Rob, a friend of mine, hoved into view for a cuppa and a slice of lemon cake I looked smug and posed next to the beast for a celebratory photograph. The only down side to the day was I possibly didn't have enough man tools to accompany this afternoon of mayhem, I think I need a tool belt, hard hat, possibly a power washer to clean up afterwards and maybe a mini digger to carry the wood to the car.

June 27th 2014

Simply stunning. I know I took these photographs but the sunset over Sand Bay in Somerset tonight was simply stunning. It had been a long hard fought day at the BBC coal face and so when Julie suggested a plodge down at the beach I pulled a face only a camel eating a lemon could do. It was a stunning sky though so relenting off we went to the bay and for once the sea was almost at high tide. I think the rest is history. We didn't actually walk that far in the end as apart from a couple with a dog, the place was empty. Where was everyone else, they were missing this aerial spectacle. We walked about a mile, very slowly as I took photograph after photograph of the gathering beauty. Then even though dusk began to envelop us like a veil, we sat on a log in now splendid isolation as the last light fell over the mountains of Wales. Perfect, just perfect.

June 26th 2014

I'm sure I have gannets and not sparrows in the garden. Every morning I am woken up to a cacophony of tweet tweeting from the resident house sparrows and I do love it. They're such jolly birds, all jostling and bustling around the feeders. There seems to be a ritual of sorts, the males fly into and onto the feeders in one bound, females tend to flutter around them for a while and juveniles wait their turn. Much like life I guess. They nest in the eaves of my roof and unlike many I suspect I will not eradicate them as they are as much a part of my life as anything. I often sit on the edge of the bed, as I did this morning, just watching them for 10 minutes while having my numerous mugs of tea to get going. Wonderful entertainment, made all the more mesmarising as those 2 feeders hold about 1kg of seed between them. My hungry sparrows can empty both in 6 hours. How on earth they can still fly with all that ballast is anyone's guess.

June 25th 2014

Having just returned from a turkey and all the trimmings luncheon in the canteen, I then realised it is 182 days to Christmas - or in laymans terms, today, June 25th is exactly 6 months from Christmas Day. From tomorrow the time to reach Santa's stocking reduces and reduces. Okay as I write this it is 20oC outside, a beautiful summers day, Wimbledon on the television, blue skies, gulls calling and wheeling all around, but in the blink of an eye, we will be in the dark days of winter. I love Christmas with a passion, BUT, I love summer too. Just wish we could leap frog Christmas and summer ever month. Now that would be fun.

It was a gloriously sunny and enjoyable day, if a bit cooler, 6 months ago too, as I noted at the time

http://365-2-50.blogspot.co.uk/2013/12/december-25th-2013.html

Happy Christmas! 

June 24th 2014

I've been up and about more or less since 03.30 this morning. We're going through a mini heatwave in the UK at the moment. Daytime temperatures around the 20-25oC mark and night-time temperatures around 15oC, not a cloud in the sky day and night either, just wonderful. The only real downside is that its hot in the evening, and tonight it was just a shade too over to the warm side for a relaxing sleep. I first woke at 3am and looked out the window. It's mid June so even at that time the sky to the north east was brightening, inperceprtably so but it was there. There was nothing for it other than to enjoy a bedtime raid to the fridge. That completed I tried to get back to sleep but failed. I gave up. Leaning out of the bedroom window all was still, all was silent, but in that 30 minutes diference the sky had really changed. Having the camera next to me I set it onto a 4 second exposure time and manage to capture the brilliance of the blue and the deep red on the horizon. It really was like this at 03.30am. Then, all of a sudden I heard a skylark. I'veheard this before in Wiltshire, skylarks heralding the arrival of the dawn before the more customary robins and blackbirds. Craning my neck, or maybe that should be craning my ears, yes, there it was one, possibly 2 skylarks. Can there be a better alarm call for a producer of Tweet of the Day. Tier lone bust lasted about two or 3 minutes before a blackbird began to sing and withing five minutes the landscape was alive with birdsong. It is late in the season for dawn chorus's but like me I think the avian population is enjoying this summer heatwave in song. I returned to bed, and, throwing all the windows wide open lay ther ein the gathering light listening to the birds, a cool breeze wafting over me as I lay there. Well done June 24th, you emerged into my life superbly.

June 23rd 2014

Yesterday the announcement that (World) Tweet of the Day would be hitting the Radio 4 airwaves in September was made public. The plan had been for the article to be in the Sunday Times, but for one reason or another it was dropped from the paper. However the press release was pushed out and picked up by the Telegraph, Metro, Evening Standard, BBC Website and the Irish Times. Most print discussing that Michael Palin is joining the team. It was a coup of mine to secure Michael and I can't wait to meet him, someone who I've admired as a person, and a Python for years. One of those if I had to choose 6 people around a table persons. But lets not forget Sir David Attenborough, here is the publicity photograph we put up for the articles, Sir Davis with a hyacinth macaw taken by the Life producer Miles Barton a few years back. It's not a bad job I have when I see it this way, all coming together.

June 22nd 2014

Back in Wiltshire today - I'm sure we'd moved from there last week but no; this was a pre-booked hack for Julie over the Marlborough Downs. It was nice being back as after a week it didn't really feel any different but strange really that we were now an hours drive from the stables (in the opposite direction), not half an hour. Be that as it may, we arrived at the Pewsey Vale Riding Stables and Julie was informed she'd be riding Blue, the horse above. Blue likes having his nose tickled and relaxes to almost sleep. To ride him I'm told is like sitting in a sofa, comfortable, relaxing and safe. So all was in place. However another lady had booked herself onto the 2 hour ride, after only a couple of lessons and had never cantered before. The groom Kelly wouldn't take her out as she was too inexperienced so after a kerfuffle and change, the lady got Blue and went off for a short hack with another groom. Julie was given Raymond (below) to ride. 16.2 hands of hunter x thoroughbred type young gelded-stallion with an ego and a temperament to match. It will be a good ride. Off they went, off I went and returned in about 2 hours. Apparently the ride was excellent, Raymond gave Julie some goodly gallops, but the little scamp was also in a mood to be naughty, bucking, jumping sideways, jumping upwards and generally being a pain. As Julie said he's fun to ride, but one can't relax as it's all hands to the pump keeping him in order. Lovely looking horse thought - or at least I thought that before he bit me on the hand as I went to get the bridle so Julie could remove the saddle - a perfect end to the morning, as I sat having lunch with friends covered in a bandage (okay a small plaster). As for lunch with the friends, well that's a whole other story for another time...... nice scotch egg salad I have to say.

June 21st 2014

 

It's midsummers day today. The longest day. For as long as I've remembered I've been excited about this day, something magical about the day when the day length is at a maxima. Cynics could say this is a load of old tosh as the 20th and 22nd of June are almost as long. But for me it is the power of nature, and that sense of immense history. Long before life came to being on earth the sun and the earth have oscillated about creating light and dark. Ancient civilisations knew of the importance of long days, days when nature recovered fully from the long winters and provided bounty for the long winter to come. From childhood this day has fascinated me. Back then I didn't know why but through knowledge and learning I now know more. That the whole rhythm of life is driven by one thing, our circling of the sun. Today in this neck of the woods sunrise was 04.56. I could have gone to Stonehenge or somewhere similar, but for me there is just as much enjoyment being in the garden, the dawn chorus in full swing watching the dawn break in a contemplative way.  The day also brings with it (for me) a tinge of sadness as for the next 6 months the days shorten, imperceptibly at first but by mid August the first fingers of autumn can be felt - no bad thing, but I do love these almost permanent daylight days. 

 

As an aside to this, unbeknown to me the Red Arrows were displaying at Weston Super Mare today - I only found this out as a friend was coming to sit with scones and strawberry's but couldn't get to us because of the traffic. We abandoned meeting, Julie and I then heading to Sand Point for the gawp at this magical display team. A perfect combination, Red Arrows on Midsummers Day. 

June 20th 2014

What a strange day, maybe its this midsummer madness fighting back. Innocently working away at the office my friend Sheena emailed me this serious article from the BBC. Why Icelanders are wary of elves living beneath the rocks http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-27907358

Not this is an important story, not least because I love the fact in this crowded world, brimming with science and endeavour to understand everything on Planet Earth, there are still people, like myself, who do really believe there is another way of living, another way of being, and above all other beings out there. Elves are part of this. We should not scoff at notions that there are faeries at the bottom of the garden, or woodland sprites who manage our forests. Who are we to say this is not fact. We can not say for definite they do not exist because we can not prove they don't exist. 

Up in the Simonside Hills in Northumberland there are the duergars, which according to legend;

"...are dangerous dark dwarves lurking in the shadows of the Simonside Hills, in Northumberland. They are said to mostly appear at night, when they prey on lost travellers by showing a light to draw the traveller nearer, and then tricking them into a bog or luring them over the edge of a precipice."

Around 10 years ago my friend Margaret was trying to think up a unique name for her new gallery in Rothbury. I was leafing through Tomlinson's Guide to Northumberland and came across the tale of these naughty sprites. Simultaneously and unbeknown to me Margaret had been reading about these duregars while on holiday. I text'd her "what about Duergar Red for your gallery name" and her reply "interesting I've just had the same thought". And so it was named and still is so.

I've never been up into the Simonside Hills at night but if I do I shall be wary of any bright lights guiding my way, there might just be something in this after all.

June 19th 2014

It's not every day a Tefal 2 slice toaster makes its way onto the BBC. Today however it did. After the move, Julie has been doing Sterling work getting boxes unpacked and sorting the house out. Especially in this heat. But one thing remained, the excess furniture we have, or should I say I still have. Combining two, 3 bed houses, produces a lot of duplication and redundancy. Although many items had been sold from the Wiltshire house, I'd struggled to sell my redundant items, until today that is. We have a new programme assistant in the office, newly moved to Bristol from London and desperate for items for his house he's just bought with his girlfriend. Tom, for that is his name, overheard me chatting to another colleague over trying to and failing to sell many items. Toms ears lit up (a medical phenomenon one doesn't often see). Upshot was that tonight Tom hired a van and took away, a sofa, a king sized bed, a double futon, a vacuum cleaner and finally a toaster. We can now see the carpet again in the house.

But seeing the toaster reminded me of its former life. When it was new it starred in a series of photographs - around my garden with a toaster. A bizarre and eclectic montage of every day actions the toasted did for a friend in Italy. Toaster making a phone call, toaster ironing, toaster riding a bike. I'd forgotten about this until I saw the toaster on the desk. I may have to dig the photos out and post on here as a record of a bizarre day back in 1999. Fun though.

June 18th 2014

Less than 24 hours after Julie has moved in and already there are changes afoot in the garden. We brought about a dozen plants with us from the Wiltshire garden and when I returned home tonight 2 were already in the border, a border that I'd neglected for many months and which is now being revamped. I only wish I could remember what these shrubs are, but they're here as this is a semi-shade border so once established should provide a nice splash of greenery and winter fragrance out of the kitchen window. Julie has some nice plans for the garden, as do I, so it will be a real threat this summer digging our new borders and trying as much as possible to make my (rapidly becoming our) garden seem more planned than of late. There will still be times though to sit and enjoy the garden with a refreshing drink.  

June 17th 2014

And so it begins. My first day ever as a cohabiting cohabitee, if that is the word. It has only taken me 50 years and 2 months to finally settle down and grow up. Well maybe settle down. But is this how its to be?

I was exhausted today after the weekend of packing and moving so taking it easy. Relaxing at work then with a copy of the BBC Wildlife Magazine (other time wasting magazines are available) I received a text from the loved one "I haven't been able to do any shopping yet, could you bring in some salad items and milk". In an attempt to avoid supermarkets as much as possible I shop at Brockley Stores on the A370 near Nailsea. It used to be just a farm shop but over the years has become much more, lovely bread, cakes, pastries, all made in-house, glorious cheeses and a nice selection of wines and beers. Today however as I arrived it looked a bit empty, had something happened? Turned out the lack of vegetable display was  because its so hot at the moment (24oC on car thermometer) they were keeping most of the fruit and veg in cold storage.  One just had to ask and they would fetch. A cardboard box loaded, to home I quickly ventured.

So why had Julie been too busy to go for food - well maybe because she'd received this bunch of flowers from my parents as a house warming / house arriving present. Even I was impressed by the bouquet - well done Worle Florists.

June 16th 2014

Ohh look there's a lorry outside the house now. I spoke too soon and after having another blitz of the house yesterday, another trip to the Tip was required. I wonder if I should just set up home there?  Having not eaten properly last night either I felt a bit shaky, today's breakfast therefore was a Tesco chicken and bacon sandwich in Tesco Marlborough car-park at 8.45am. How exotic. Returning home at 9.30, the Luckes & Son removal van had arrived and they'd already begun the task. Ian (driver) and Mark (in charge)were troopers throughout the emptying of the house, so by 11.15am the van was packed. Julie went off to say goodbye to Alison one of her neighbours and I had a wander around just to check everything had been removed. At 11.25am we shut the door on the East Grafton home for the very last time.

The oddest thing then happened. Julie and I drove away in separate cars arriving at the Somerset house about 1pm. We both said we didn't feel any sadness in leaving the house behind, or leaving Wiltshire behind. It was as if the separation was meant to happen now. A few months earlier it may have been a different story, but today, as we turned out of Lynden Close for the very last time, it felt right, there is always a right time to move in and this was it.

By 4pm when this photograph was taken we were installed and the removal men Ian and Mark had gone. An excellent and painless move by Luckes & Son, very good, I'd recommend them.

June 15th 2014

There are times when perfect timing is everything. For years this ice cream van has plied its trade in the cul de sac. Most times that I hear the jingly jangly ice cream music filtering across the fields I either miss the van as it drives off before I get there or, I can't be bothered to find my shoes. Today was different.

Last night we decided to drive over to Somerset with the fish tank, partly as it was late in the evening and being so tired our longing to be in a house that wasn't dismantled appealed. It's a stressful experience manhandling 11 fish out of a tank, into bags in a cool box, then drive them for 2 hours to their new home, refill the tank and keep fingers crossed they survive. We did it though and at the time of writing all 11 are happy in their new home and whizzing about like loons. Driving back to East Grafton this morning we stopped at Planks Farm Shop Cafe near Devizes, mainly as we needed a break from the endless thinking about packing, but were absolutely starving. Next time we'll employ the removal firm to pack.

Eventually home, it was pack, pack, pack and then at 4pm we had literally just packed the last box when I heard the jingly jangly ice cream music filter across the fields. Exiting the door like a stabbed rat I poised and returned with my double 99 in a cone. It was delicious, only the 2nd time ever I've had an ice cream from the van in 5 years. Couldn't have come at a moment too soon.  

By 6pm we were starving again. I wonder how many calories one burns up packing to move. What to have for tea? Our vague plan was to go out to a pub for a last meal (as everything had been packed away) but we were so pooped remaining on the sofa used up about all the energy we had in reserve. Decision made, lets eat at home. We had a problem. As all pans and other cooking utensils were now in the Tip, or packed in a box not recognised; as all food was packed and under another mountain of boxes. What remained accessible was the contents of the freezer which we were just about to defrost; five lonely items. Hash Browns, Cauliflower florets, Peas, Yorkshire pudding and a green thing in a bag which we though was soup. I set too with the hash browns, in a wok, the only pan left in the house, using a spoon, the only implement I could find to use. Chaos reigns. Frying the hash browns in a wok was a spectacular failure as their integrity and structure soon dissolved and I ended up with a dry casserole of hash brown remains. I did find a bottle of whisky and some lemonade. And so the Last Supper was consumed, no not some gourmet feast from the local pub, but....... hash brown casserole with whisky and lemonade pudding, eaten in the garden out of the wok as we'd packed all the plates too.

By 9pm we really were in a state of tiredness only moving house can bring, but suddenly the sun shone from the clouds, a sunset was developing. Last chance, so into the car and a drive around the favourite haunts we often drove around at night, including Wilton Windmill which for the first time in 5 years I managed to photograph against a stunning sunset. Plenty of animals out too, deer, brown hares running in front of the car and a tawny owl perched on a bridge with a vole in his beak. It felt like this part of south east Wiltshire and its natural denizens were saying goodbye to us. A lovely end to our time here.

June 14th 2014

I mentioned my love of going to the tip earlier in the week. Being in Wiltshire allows me to go to another tip, this time the newly opened facility in Marlborough. Not many people I guess photograph a pile of rubbish for the tip, but this is special rubbish. As we are amalgamating two houses, we are of course doubling up on most things. A lot of the bigger items, tables, chairs, garden equipment and so on has been sold or given away. What we were then left with was duplicates of things no-one wanted, mugs, pans, toasters, cushions and the like. Many items went to small army of charity shops, leaving the battered or the unloved left. And so it was that my third trip to the tip of the day saw me pause for a moment near West Grafton to record the removal of all of the kitchen items to, well most went into the scrap metal skip. On first arriving at the Tip we bumped into Pete Bailey, a jobbing builder hereabouts, good worker and excellent for outdoor jobs like patio's. He was shovelling out a pick-up truck load of turf having started to dig an extension at his home. My third trip in the afternoon saw Pete Bailey there again, shovelling out soil this time. He's a grafter that's for sure. Striking up a conversation he was interested in the electrical cables we were sending to the tip - they've gone to a good home then.

Job done, this gave us ample time to pack a few more boxes. Where is it all coming from?

June 13th 2014

Here's a view, on a day I didn't think would happen for many years if ever, my last commute back to Wiltshire after the working week. Auspicious then it should fall on Friday the 13th of June! We've spent so long planning this move to Somerset that the days and weeks ahead of us have seemed endless, no movement at all. Then all of a sudden 3 weeks ago, we were off, or Julie was to be precise, as it is she who is selling the house. And so it was with a surprisingly light heart I drove along the M4 towards Swindon for the last time, a journey of 58 miles from work door to home door, about an hour and a quarter, that's if I go the direct way. The indirect way I took tonight as the weather was good and drove home via the Vale of Pewsey, after passing Avebury and Silbury Hill.  The weekend ahead of us is one of rush, last minute packing but hopefully a few moment to relax. And so as the dark clouds of Friday the 13th gather over the Marlborough Downs, its a final look from the Pewsey Vale across to East Grafton in the far distance.

June 12th 2014

As a society we don’t often send items by post these days, or at least I don’t, yet today I had three in my hand for the red box at the end of the lane.

As I picked these up it struck me that because I’m using stamps bought for Christmas cards, there is something very satisfying about paper and post. The six books of stamps were bought at Bedwyn post office in December and having overbought, even in June I’ve still one and a half books left. And that is a shame.  I long for the days when letters would be on the doormat after returning home. The mounting excitement wondering what was inside, and after making a nice cup of tea (how did we British cope before tea) I’d sit down and receive a missive of length. Often these were accompanied by drawings, photographs and other paraphernalia. If my parents wrote, and they still do this, I’d receive half a dozen newspaper cuttings from Northumberland, letting me know some of the things which had gone on.  Once I received a letter from a total stranger in South Africa. Somehow a letter from my friend Susan at University found its way south of the Equator. The kind chap returned the letter to me, except Susan had filled the envelope with the waste circles from using a paper hole punch. The returned envelope contained about a third of what had been enclosed and I’ve often wondered about the chaos that unfurled in South Africa as that guy opened the letter and was showered in confetti. I hope writing letters does not die out with the dominance of e-communication, that will be a sad day.

June 11th 2014

I love going to the tip, always have. There is something most liberating about loading the car up with a whole load of not wanted items and then hurling them into the relevant containers. Of course letting go of my rubbish is not the solution Globally, I'm just transferring the problem elsewhere but I can only do my bit. So this morning on the way into work I alighted at Backwell Recycling and Waste Management Facility, the tip in other words. A vacuum, printer and angle grinder went into the electrical bin, some mixed wood in this bin, metal in another and the rest hurled with passion into the "Non Recyclable" bin. It was only 08.05am when I'd finished, just 5 minutes after the place opened to the public. It was empty other than a handful of orange clad chaps brushing the place clean. Even somewhere as municipal as the Council Tip looks beautiful in the June sunshine first thing in the morning. I'll be back before too long.

June 10th 2014

There are times when seismic decisions or events come along and make me really stop and think. Today was one such event. The Director of BBC Radio Helen Boaden made an announcement to us all of the financial savings the Corporation still needs to make to reduce its cash deficit. Principle of which is around a 15% reduction in the workforce by 2017. As she pointed out after savings, the BBC will still have £260 million a year to make the best radio programmes in the World. Many independent radio stations would be doing handstands if they had this level of income stream coming in. I love radio as it is intelligent, intuitive but above all intimate, just the voice and the listener. Money to make programme is always tights, budgets minute compared to TV, but we all are passionate about our craft. Only time will tell if at the end of this process the BBC Radio network will be Smaller, Simpler but above all Still Brilliant at producing world class BBC Radio programmes. I have my fingers crossed.

June 9th 2014

If I had driven to Somerset last night this view would never have happened to me. This is the vista I had for 3 hours or so on the M4 between Swindon and Chippenham this morning. An accident between a lorry and a van at 5am had closed the M4 until 11am. Unlike when I became trapped on the M5 at the beginning of October, when we didn't move an inch for hours and could leave our vehicles, today the motorway was closed but a diversion had been put in place on the slip road of Junction 17. This meant that we did keep moving a few metres at a time, which is worse as there was no real respite from the hopeless feeling of being trapped and unable to do anything about it. I joined the motorway at Junction 16 at 8.05am and finally passed Junction 17, 10 miles later at 11.10am. Behind me today was Julie and a 'Man with a Van', Nick. In a way it was lucky I became entrapped as I texted Julie and she headed over to Somerset via the A4 and made it in an hour and a half. I arrived home later in the evening to find a garden now full of fragrant plants in pots. The move is beginning at last and I like it.

As a postscript to this I learnt on Wednesday that 2 people had died in the crash and another driver has been charged with manslaughter. My stuck in the queue pales into insignificance with this news as two families are now facing a much rougher time ahead than I experienced on the day.

June 8th 2014

 

What a beautiful day. I woke at around 5am, already the sun was strong and blasting its rays across the garden. Having the camera next to me, and being wide awake I decided to take a few photographs. The image below is the dappled light the two Himalayan birch trees project onto the built in wardrobe in the bedroom. I watched the flickering of the shadowy leaves for ages, even capturing these on video. It is quite relaxing watching nothing and emptying the mind of the stresses of the move ahead of us. How can house moving be so chaotic.

 

After another day of selling and packing, plus a visit to Planks Farm Shop near Devizes for some R&R I set off for Somerset with another car load of detritus. A mile from home I looked at the sky, sun low and strong, and did an about turn and returned home. Picking up Julie we went for a drive over the Pewsey Vale and Marlborough Downs ending at the avenue in Avebury. What a perfect evening, just perfect.

June 7th 2014

 

What a day. Today I have been selling the contents of Julie's house, with her permission of course. It's the final normal weekend in Wiltshire, however there was nothing normal about today. Julie placed some items onto the Pewsey Notice Board and then as she had to head off and buy some plants for a client, I took over the items for sale experience on the keyboard. I've never sold so much stuff in my life. By the end of the day we'd sold the fireplace, table and chairs, washing machine many times over, 2 conifers in pots, the table and chairs outside and this tile cutter. We'd also sold the lawn mower so it was a last dash to cut the grass before it went  - the grass may be shaggy by the time Emma moves in next Monday. I only made it as seconds after the grass was cut there was a clap of thunder and the heavens opened, a deluge. Plenty of lasts happening at the moment but for very positive reasons. There is no doubting I shall miss Wiltshire but there is a lot of exploring to do in Somerset from now on.

June 6th 2014

Today is the 70th Anniversary of D Day, June 6th 1944. The largest ever seaborne invasion in history.

I have spent the morning listening to the recollections of the soldiers and sailors with a tear in my eye. Even though I was born 20 years after D Day, my parents who were teenagers in 1944 made me very interested in the history of World War 2 from an early age. In my safe, pampered life I can not imagine how it felt for my mother to be evacuated at the age of 8 to the Lake District to escape the bombs. Nor how my father as a child felt spending night after night in an air raid shelter, not knowing if they would survive the night as the drone of planes overhead heralded another bombing of the River Tyne shipyards. My maternal grandfather was an arctic convoy Merchant Navy Captain working to the Royal Navy and my paternal grandfather being Foreman electrician at Redheads Shipyards in South Shields was exempt from fighting but regularly slept and worked 7 days a week 24 hours a day there to ensure the ships were repaired and back out to sea. I remember him recalling how a Royal Navy ship (I forget the name) came in to be repaired after being bombed and burnt out, only to discover it was the ship his brother-in-law had been killed on. Again, imagining how he felt knowing that doesn't come easy.

The two generations that fought in World War 1 and World War 2 really were a breed apart. Tough, stoical, no nonsense people who just stood their ground and fought for their very existence. Only now are many of them talking about their experiences. For the lucky ones who survived they just locked the horror away and began life again after the war. I do not think we will see their likes again.

That invasion is being celebrated, if that is the right word, as the last major commemoration of this event by living veterans at Arromanches beach and elsewhere. As one commentator of the events today summed up very well while talking to a veteran " I know of teenagers today who have temper tantrums if their broadband connection fails, at 19 you ran down a landing craft ramp into a hail of bullets" The veteran replied " I ran without thinking, my best friend died instantly we hit the beach and my other friend was shot directly infront of me, he probably died saving me from that bullet - my only aim was to run as fast as I could, I had no other thought, other than to live" 




copyright AP via BBC

  And that comment above anything else I've heard today brings about a poignant memory for me which sums up why we should remember these now elderly men. The image above is of an American veteran taken at the ceremony at Aramanches this morning, I don't know his name. Around 15 years ago I took my parents over to the Normandy beaches as my father in particular wanted to visit somewhere as a child he had heard so much about. I remember parking the car near Gold (Arromanches) beach and walking onto the wonderful sandy beach, still littered with remnants of the Mulberry Harbours. My father walked off and stood for 20 minutes by himself by the waters edge looking in the direction of Britain. I didn't join him but watched him from one of the Mulberry wrecks, wondering what was he thinking? As I stood there four men in their 70's came up to me and asked me if I could take their photograph together next to the Mulberry wreck. I did and then we struck up a conversation. They were American and all had been on the beach on day 1 of D Day. Like the veteran above, I never got to know their names but they told me all about their experiences and none of them had been back to this beach since June 1944. I vividly remember one of the group explaining to me in a most matter of fact way, how he ran off the ramp of the landing craft and sinking into the soft sand on the beach, his adrenaline kicked in and he sprinted towards the cliffs for protection. He only stopped running when he found shelter half way up the cliff and then as his company joined him they fought their way up to the top and over. It took many hours under heavy gunfire to cross the beach and scale the cliff.

Poignantly he then added "I've come back today as I never saw this beach at the time" I was a bit unsure what he meant and so he added " the landing craft hit the beach and I ran, just ran, I didn't know where I was, or what I was running to, it was blind terror driving me forwards as I ran, I was focused on a concrete wall in front of me that was all.... I had no idea what was happening around, behind or infront of me although the noise was so deafening if felt like it was silent, a strange feeling.... so coming back today is the first time I've been able to see the beach I ran over......it's a very long way"

There was a pause as a tear filled his eye and he looked away from me and out to sea. Without looking at me he added with a now broken voice, "so many friends died here I can still see their faces......."

After a while he composed himself and thanked me for taking the photographs, adding "I'll not come back again, its too painful".

I watched the four men walk back towards the town. They are the only people I have ever met who were on the beaches on D Day. I met them as strangers and they left as strangers and we will never meet again. Yet in that brief 10 minutes we stood on Gold beach together there was a connection. The selfless action of complete strangers 20 years before I was born, allowed me to live as free a life as I wanted as a young man 35 years later.

And that is why today is important, Lest We Forget.

June 5th 2014

 

A slightly odd image for today as it is of a long playing record by Monty Python that I purchased in 1979. That fact is irrelevant as the reason this image adorns todays thoughts is that at the end of a very busy, but very productive day I received an email which even in the depths of winter would make me hop, skip and jump about the place like a loon. Sadly I can't say anything further that will make any sense at the moment, but seeing this image will remind me how I felt seeing that email at 5.30pm tonight. There are times in life when a purpose is placed at our feet, I feel that today my feet do have a purpose, Brian.

June 4th 2014

I stumbled into a meeting today that was both inspirational and informative; that's something you don't often hear! To be more accurate I was invited to the BBC's Rural Affairs Committee meeting, held this morning. Being a bit green around the ears I had no idea what to expect, thus thinking this was a routine production meeting I shambled into conference room A, slightly late and bedecked in my classic media tattered rags. Ahead of me an island table, 20 or so name places of which the first one I read was Lord Peter Melchett, ex head of Greenpeace and now policy adviser to the Soil Association. Gulp, what have I been invited to? Well I need not have worried, everyone was uber friendly and the morning was spent listening to the great and the good from the world of rural affairs, letting us BBC chaps know what was happening and giving steerage as to where the top stories may be coming from in the coming months. As the only person there from the NHU Radio team it was fascinating to see and hear so many great speakers offering insight. 3 hours passed in a flash, however the day will remain with me for a while yet.

June 3rd 2014

 

I pass this view nearly every morning on the way into work and yet something this morning made me stop and take a photograph. This is the river Banwell which rises in the village of Banwell on the northern slopes of the Mendips Hills, about 8 miles from where this photograph was taken. Eventually the river flows into the Bristol Channel at Woodspring Bay. Until 1915 the area where the river rose was a series of freshwater springs on the Mendip slopes. The springs were capped to provide water for the Bristol Water Works and the large pool into which the springs once bubbled up into was filled in and is now the village bowling green. This view however is about a quarter of a mile from my house. I live on the very edge of a modern estate and each morning I turn out of my drive, turn right at the junction and drive along the narrow lane to the main road 3 miles away at Hewish. As I cross the tiny humped back bridge I always slow down and look left and right to see what's happening along the river. Often there is a grey heron here, or little grebe, once a kingfisher and as today, mallard.  Adjacent to the bridge is the remnants of a ford which presumably was in use until the area became more built up. At this point the river is tidal and at times of high tide the river can be almost overflowing the banks. Today however is was just a pastoral scene of English rural idyll. Commuting to work isn't bad if this is the daily view.

June 2nd 2014

 

Tonight I didn't get back home from work until 8pm and so it was a night for doing nothing. Which was apt as I'd set my mind to watch the final episode of Hinterland. This Welsh noir detective series has been an absolute delight to watch from the very beginning. The acting in this series by unknown Welsh actors has been superb throughout, every character has been believable in the role they have been scripted to. The direction and editing has avoided every cliché with camera cut away's driving the story forwards, rather than obvious lines. Best of all the plot lines have twisted and turned around a theme with many an unexpected outcome. And so as sat watching Hinterland on the laptop as the light began to fade a view I've seen many many times provided the impetus for my thoughts today. Sometimes that house opposite in late evening is bathed in golden sunlight. It's not a bad view that's for sure and will be Julie's new view 2 weeks from today.