Wednesday July 31st 2019

 

I had to pop into Tyntesfield this morning to drop something off. It was lovely getting there at 0845. Sun was up and this view towards Home Farm caught my eye. Again as with yesterdays posting not too clever an image, I think the processor on the phone is failing somewhat. But being on this estate before all the people is what makes this special. A reminder that once this estate was quiet. not that farms are ever quiet, but no visitors, no cars, no shopping. Simply a glorious landscape and in the distance if I can hear through time, the gentle mooing of cows being milked in what is now the Cow Barn Restaurant. Fanciful thoughts as I breathed in the day before the day began.

Tuesday July 30th 2019

A terrible photograph (I do need a new mobile phone) but a record of a sight I'd not seen before in 20+ years driving this lane. Presumably as it has been so dry for a long time, the days welcome rain, the developing puddles, were all too much of a temptation for this family of mallard. Whooshing along the lane I spied this family group splashing and bathing in the puddle. By the time I'd stopped the car, got the phone out and snapped the image, they'd begun to waddle off, noisily. A lot of quacking, though it has to be said they were not too concerned at me sitting in a car watching them just 6 feet away. I couldn't linger as this is a single lane road and the huge tractors here-about at days work silage making don't stop for anyone. I hope however they stop for Mrs Mallard and her troup.

Monday July 29th 2019

Slightly quieter day at work, so a good opportunity to have a right good old sort out (everyone is on leave). I have stuff all over the desk and in bags, or should I say, I had. I've been ruthless, and therefore filled a bin with recycling, stuff going back to 2014. Where does it all come from? Every piece of writing or form, or bit of paper, old folders, elastic bands now perished, was vitally important at the time. Now with the advancement of the years, I can't even remember what half of those things were actually kept for or about.  We as a species do hoard far too much stuff, a throwback to our hunter gatherer ancestors when having stuff was vital to survival. Now we just fill our world with clutter. Sometimes this clutter is valuable to historians and archaeologists. But lets be honest, that bit of tissue paper we kept just because it will come in next Christmas, is never ever going to be used again. Occasionally though something pops up. In this case a doodle. I can't remember doodling this, but it picturesque's a summary of what I think is a Living World radio programme on oil beetles.  That was a few years ago in Devon, great day indeed. Why though a windmill and three odd people? Well with the advancement of the years, I can't even remember. 

Sunday July 28th 2019

The kitchen windowsill at 8pm. Sweet peas from the garden. An expired milk bottle. Sun through the window. It’s high summer. Long days, warm days, light evenings, swifts still here, windows open cooling the home. Hard to believe in 5 months it will be the shortest day. How soon we forget the dark days of winter as we savour high summer contentment. How soon too in mid winter we forget these lazy days, captured tonight forever.

Saturday July 27th 2019

I feel extraordinary tired today. Partly a result of the heat of the preceding week, which made sleeping difficult. But also last night we went on a nightjar walk with Chris Sperring. Organised by the Mendip Society this 2030-2230 walk across Priddy Mineries in the search for nightjars was a lovely way to end the week stuck indoors.  A good turn out of nearly 30 people and as what often happens to me I got involved as the backs man, bringing up the rear the ensure no one became lost in the swamp (not that I'd have done anything if they had). In the two hours we heard a single nightjar a long way off but also a very close and obliging grasshopper warbler. First one I've heard in decades. So after a quick chat with Chris, home and into bed by midnight.  Today I have done very little and just watched the clouds rolling across the garden as I dozed in a way only a late middle-aged man can do with some style and poise. Getting up off the lawn however is altogether less graceful.  

Friday July 26th 2019

Image of a 2nd ed of the Scottish Tourist
from Richard Wells Antiquarian Bookshop

Days can be really exciting for me. I like it when a day evolves mysteriously from nothing.  Through my reading and research into Anne Lister, I recently stumbled across a blogsite, which while eclectic in its entries from Anne Listers diaries is currently focusing on Lister's tour of Scotland in 1828. On that tour, she was accompanied by her lover Sibella Mclean. I wrote about this a few days ago. Well today I was sent a link to the travel journal Anne reads and mentions in her diaries - The Scottish Tourist - first published in 1825. I mention this as later I received a lovely email from someone who has recently published a paper on certain aspects of this tour, after I'd written asking a question. As a result I've been scribbling down brief notes today as I'm at work. But the more I delve into the extraordinary world of Anne Lister, the more extraordinary it becomes, and the more I wish I could go back 200 years and over a mutton chop and some potatoes and a glass of Madeira, slippers on, have a good old chat.

Thursday July 25th 2019

Image - www.torro.org.uk

It's hot today - broken records in fact. 38.1 is the maximum today in Cambridge. The media are excited. However there is a very good website which puts this in context - recording the hottest day on record for a specific date. 

32.2oC is recorded as the coldest 'hot' day in July ( Bridgwater 9th July 1932) and until today, the hottest July day ever was 36.7oC Heathrow July 1st 2015. But July is always the hottest month in the year. So here is a brief summary of July

4 of the hottest days on a certain date have been since 2000. 

8 of the hottest dates between 1950-2000

23 between 1900-1950 

4 in the 19th Century. 

What is rarely discussed is as the land dries out (farming and urbanization) there are less absorption aspects to the landmass (fewer trees, wetlands and so on to capture heat) so a lot of solar radiation heat remains in buildings and built up areas over night adding to the mix). The air above London can be 5 degrees warmer than Kent for example in heatwave conditions like this. Which is why Heathrow is often the warmest place - miles of tarmac and proximity to London and the South East which has a more Continental climate than the rest of the UK.

Interesting maybe (but I'm too hot to think or write anymore)

Wednesday July 24th 2019

I had a brief visit to Hawkesbury & Inglestone common this evening. In between my mad dashes between social engagements. Having a day off, I planned to catch up with friends, plus deliver some training of volunteers at Tyntesfield. It was hot. Too hot.  With the two volunteers trained up for next week, by 12.30pm I was on the road to Thornbury to catch up with Rob, a long term friend. We met at the Hawkes House Cafe in Thornbury, the aim being to have a lite bite then go and do some bird watching or similar. It was hot. Too hot. We thus stayed in the shade at the cafe for over 4 hours. the wildlife watching can wait. In between that and catching up with my friend Sheena at 7pm, I had an hour to spare. 

Hawkesbury & Inglestone common used to be a regular haunt of mine. Nightingales once split the night-silence here, I once heard three singing together. They no longer sing here sadly. Sloes were an autumnal harvest here for the making of a most potent sloe gin. Yet for nearly 2 decades my feet failed to tread the earth on this lovely oasis in south Gloucestershire. Until today. Not long enough but just long enough to take in the abundant wildflowers and feel a refreshing breeze across the open landscape. Then, a dash back to Hambrook, just outside Bristol, more chatting and socializing over a ham, egg and chips (with chutney? a first for me) and home by 11pm, only 13 hours after setting off.

At 11pm, it was still hot. 21 degrees hot and dark.

Tuesday July 23rd 2019

Julie is on a Yoga retreat in deepest Somerset this week. The idea is to rest and relax, with half the day spent doing yoga from 8am and then an afternoon pottering across the Quantocks before a light supper and bed. I was told however a cream tea is planned for the Thursday - really, surely a retreat is abstinence of all things sinful. Or is that reading the Countryman magazine. I'm glad though there is some form of modern connectivity available. Otherwise this morning I'd not have received this really interesting photograph - the view from Julie's bedroom in the annex of the old hall. An opposite view apparently is across rolling countryside. 

This image however delves deeper into my psyche. An open casement - must be fine weather. A stone surround, must be an older building. A complementary tea and coffee tray, ahh a hotel or bed and breakfast maybe. And there's a story already unfurling. If I had a mind to write this now I'd begin with 

".. she sat by the open casement, lamenting the demise of the old ways. How many people have gazed through this opening over her lifetime. Over many lifetimes or two. Their individual lives separate from the morass of connection; unknown in life, forgotten in death;  yet connected by a view....an ever changing view, restless with the passing of that artifice, time. Without the doorbell rang. Stepping nearer, she looked out. There was nobody there... she looked again, only the swifts screamed overhead braking the silence. A deep penetrating silence, swaddling stillness; in the garden just the fading remnants of the misty dawn swirled around the lawn like playful sprites....... She looked again "is that mist?"....."

However as it's currently 28oC, I'm heading somewhere cooler to think. To be continued (or not).

Monday July 22nd 2019

I have four nights of freedom. Julie is away on a yoga retreat and so I'll be cooking for myself, And the housework, fish feeding, garden watering.  Endless jobs. To save time then a lunchtime treat, which was for £5 rather delicious. That's today's food sorted, I can relax tonight when I get home. Well apart from the endless jobs. 

Sunday July 21st 2019

One of my absolute pleasures is spending a day in the garden writing and, or, reading about new things; or both. I am rarely however able to do this as I seem to have precious little time, or inclination to spend a day, just at home being me. The rise of the laptop a decade or so ago revealed how al-fresco pleasure and internalized perspiration are one bedfellow and the same. Yet, brave heart and all that jazz, today I have done just that. 

Many years ago, June 2012 to be precise, I set myself a task of writing 1000 words on a random topic every day for 2 weeks. That was at a time when I stayed over at Julie's Wiltshire home and found myself at leisure for 14 days. I did write 14,000 words in a fortnight. Actually it was considerably more. Topics ranged from fog, to travel, a lucky-dip surfaced and a few nuggets of, "today I did". Which is mostly what I have been delving into since waking today - What Anne Lister did in 1828. In that year this truly remarkable person who I am enthralled by, Miss Lister  of Shibden, traveled to Scotland with Sibella Maclean. En route they traveled up through Northumberland, and to quote from a new website which is daily releasing excerpts from her diaries; 

May 19th 1828.

" ... Thick foggy morning. Could not have seen much even had I been on the outside. At 8 40 stopt at Belford to breakfast. A good inn & neat little town. Off again in 35 minutes having in vain sat quarter hour in the water closet. 2 very respectably mannered young men my companions. 1 a West India merchant just come to see his friends at Berwick had made a good fortune...."

In the course of this two months on the road Anne and Sibella became lovers. Many historians and writers of Anne focus on her homosexuality. I don't. It is interesting and it may have accounted for who she was, but for me there is a depth to Anne way deeper than she 'grubbled through petticoats'. Obsessive of time, weather (her time in the water closet) and the minutiae of life, her diaries are littered with social facts of the late Georgian period. Which is why I've spent nearly all day reading a new account of this journey, in the context of 'genteel travelling'. 

I sat back at 5pm and looked at this image....Julie's laptop, and the detritus of a day spent with Miss Lister of Shibden. 

Saturday July 20th 2019

Having spent a quite agreeable day at Tyntesfield I returned to the bosom of the matrimonial home to be confronted by bath bombs and body butter. Julie had been on another of her fragrant courses this time, a bathing product opportunity. From dispatches it seems this process of magician's alchemy is much easier than when she made soap a few weeks ago. Orange and geranium for the bombing process, and the butter for body, geranium and bergamot. Sadly I can not smell these scented jewels in their solid state, but no doubt when they are used in anger, a waft of perfume will infuse the matrimonial abode.

Friday July 19th 2019

In celebration of the rain today (monsoon like downpours but first rain since June) a most wet and miserable day, I've writ a nonsense poem. 

Today it rained

From the sky right to my vest

I got wet.

Maybe not as wet as a fish

But that's debatable

For a fish has a coat

I didn't

Just my vest

and shoes

I like jumping in puddles

I got wetter.

But!

I've never seen a dry raindrop.

Not never. 

Thursday July 18th 2019

I've been thinking a lot about diaries this year. Julie brought me a lovely leather bound one for our anniversary, and I carry it with me now. I've also a hankering to be one of the transcribers to Anne Lister's diaries, but that's a labour of love, not one for a full time employee who also does a lot of volunteering work in his spare time. And of course there is this on-line blog diary. But the paper diary is a joy to hold, tactile and at A6 size small enough to be nonrestrictive. For some reason however after doing some paperwork and admin, I wrote this short passage in the diary this afternoon. 1 year hence to the day. Why I wonder? It just struck me to write it. We often write in retrospective. But occasionally I've written notes to myself or others in the future. Some I've found again, others lost to the four winds of change.

In 365 days time this on-line blog will cease to be, as I've decided to delete it when October comes. After saving all the entries and then the plan is to have them bound in a book. I therefore find myself writing something for the future, in a medium that in the future won't exist. Yet what I wrote in the diary (and now write about on-line) will always exist, both in the future or in the past. Yet on Saturday July 18th 2020, for one day, these words will be the present. And the day I wrote this, i.e today, will be a year ago. Just one single day at a time, out of thousands we all live in our lives, is a present day. Everything else we live for, exist for, aspire to, is either in our receding memories, or in our minds as we look forward. Neither exist in the present, or in reality. I can though hold that pencil again. 

I'm sure there is a philosophical discussion in there somewhere to unravel.

Wednesday July 17th 2019

I've been feeling tired all day, for reasons I can't explain. Possibly the heat - it's been stifling and humid for weeks now, and as a result, possibly as I've not been sleeping well at night.  Anyway, driving home last night I had an urge for a curry. Our curry emporium of choice is in Winscome, The Touch of Spice, on the slopes of the Mendips. I rang management. She was up for a curry - vegetable korma for her and a peshwani nan. Plus poppadoms and a bowl of pilau rice. Half an hour later I positioned myself adjacent to the Bombay Mix and awaited my Chicken Tikka Balti to be added to the list - ohh and a sag bhaji. Nice. Home by 7.30 pm we ate in the garden and then chatted about the fact it had rained briefly over the afternoon. Yes it's that unusual these days, we British talk about the weather - or at least rain. The curry was as ever, excellent.  I've been visiting this curry house since my East Brent days (1995-1998) as it was a short detour on the way home. Almost a local these days.

Tuesday July 16th 2019

Julie wasn't too well today, so I had an emergency dash home in the afternoon to provide husbandry nursing and care. I sent her to bed.  After this moment of excitement I was left downstairs, perusing my new book, in between popping up and checking on the invalid. 

I love the Anne Lister story, and have mentioned it already in this year long diary. I'll not be as productive as Anne, producing her 4 million + words in 27 huge diaries. But I am doing my bit. This book by Jill Liddington who has researched Anne for years is fascinating as it delves deeper into the landowner Anne, specifically in the late 1830's. Since the BBC Gentleman Jack series her ascendancy in the public sphere has risen. Like all TV series it'll be a blip and by next month many of the recent convert LGBT followers will have moved onto pastures new. But for me, I'm now in the long haul. This eve of the Victorian era world I find just fascinating and as I sat in the garden in the evening reading my book, I became lost in a world, far different to our own. Yet what fascinates me is if I catapult time forward from Anne by 100 years, 1930 is just an older version of today. 1830 however is more akin to 16th Century Britain. History is absolutely enthralling, and my new friend Anne is enchanting me more than I ever though at the beginning of the year.

Monday July 15th 2019

I actually won something in a raffle over the weekend. A deputation arrived at my desk with my prize. 2 baby outfits. Suitable for 3-6 month old girls. Ahh! Well the good news is these same outfits now are heading to a woman who someone knows, who has a 3-6 month old girl. I'm glad, and it proves raffles do deliver. And over £2000 for a worthy cause.

Sunday July 14th 2019

Wimbledon's Men Final Day. Julie was so exhausted with the emotional turmoil of watching Federa vs Djokovic she couldn't face any more as it gathered pace so relegated herself to the garden and viewed updates streamed in from BBC Sport. It was a hot day, so how on earth did the number 1 and number 2 seeds continue to slog it out for four hours and 57 minutes  in that heat - the longest ever singles final in the tournaments history.

In the end Djokovic triumphed on Centre Court with the emotional crowd heavily backing Federa, which is so unfair. But that's sport, partisan and partial. So for the record Djokovic won 7-6 (7-5) 1-6 7-6 (7-4) 4-6 13-12 (7-3). His fifth Wimbledon title matching Bjong Borg record, though Borg did it in successive years..

Saturday July 13th 2019

I love what has happened to our garden, by chance. The on-message environmental gardening thinking these days is to go wild. Not in a running about the estate naked with a trombone and dancing cats. That would just be odd. No wild in, and as how, nature intended. Wildlife meadows are oft quoted as the way forward to preserve wildlife.  They do look fantastic if you get the management correct. And there's the nub, they take a lot of management and faffing about to make them look even half decent. Not for me. In our garden we're just organic, have always been and will always be. So the lawn, which is a 1/3 relic of the lawn which I inherited 10 years ago. That law was lush, sprayed of every weed, manicured to within an inch of its life and used as a feature alongside the hot tub and 28 lights inserted in the decking. All of that has gone over the years and nature has found it's way in. This remnant lawn does it's own thing and it's own thing this year is white clover. Where this came from who knows. Last year it was all grasses, some years it's just daisies or buttercups. This year Trifolium repens takes centre stage. And I love it. At night Julie sits in the chair and as the dusk gathers it is like being enveloped by millions of stars. And yes the bees and buzywuzies quite like it too. Happy Days.

Friday July 12th 2019

I can't imaging having a job that is routine. A job where I know what I'll be doing as I walk into work? I've never had a job like that. Some trades, maybe a baker, butcher or candlestick maker must have a routine. Making bread, opening the shop at 9am, cashing up and home. For years I've walked into the office and while there are some routines, often they're pushed sideways into the grass. Today was  good example. 

Around 11am, an e-mail arrived from London studios. After a veritable blizzard of phone calls and emails, by 2pm we were set up to record a presenter in Bristol, talking to a contributor in the United States. In the old days ISDN's ruled the recording airwaves. Now, in America especially new ways of connecting exist. I'd not come across this term ProntoNet before but by 5pm, the job was done. The presenter who'd come in from Swindon was happy and presumably at some point there'll be a programme. I played my small part behind the scenes and as I write this at 6pm, calm has descended.

And in between all of this I became embroiled in a kit recording discussion, based on some phasing which happened in a recording on the Isle of May. The kit has just returned to my desk, and so after publishing this, it will be time to tidy up and put everything away.

Thursday July 11th 2019

New toys at work. 6 new Tascam hand held recorders arrived today. I've not had a chance to play with them yet, but looking forward to doing so. It is getting increasingly difficult to find good quality and fairly cheap hand held recorders. For years we used Nagra ARES11 devices. Better known as Gin Bottles due to their shape these bullet proof but brilliant recorders have served us well. Following them Olympus produced a very good range 10 years ago, the LS10 and LS11 models. Which were light, simple to operate and small enough to put into your pocket. These were replaced by the LS-P1 which was too small and too fiddly and while it had good sound quality still it wasn't robust. Thus for a number of years we've had to canabalise the 'gin bottles' but we were losing the war, while winning the battles.  So we'll see. Three of these will go to the Farming team who spend a lot of time in, well, animal excreta. Watch this space!

Wednesday July 10th 2019

All my life I have loved a bacon sandwich. Even better I love a cold bacon sandwich. My view at work. Home made bacon sandwich, cup of tea, all set for the day ahead. Is there a better way to begin the day? I've loved cold bacon sandwiches since my childhood, when in the summer before school, my parents occasionally took me to the beach. My father would go for a swim and we'd unpack the breakfast picnic made the night before. I seem to remember there was always muesli in Tupperware bowls and cold bacon sandwiches wrapped in grease proof paper. I'm sure there would have been other treats, but my memory of those times nearly 50 years ago are of sand, seaside, picnics and going to school feeling different to all my classmates who were still half asleep.

Tuesday July 9th 2019

Suspended like a pink octopus on a door hanger,  this rucksack is famous. But only if you know why it's famous. Actually famous is stretching it a bit. But this rucksack spends a lot of time with the very wonderful Clare Balding as she strides across the length and breadth of Britain. Not that she carries it, but it is used by the producers of Ramblings on Radio 4. Its simple persona belies its importance. Within are held first aid kits, spare food, water and batteries and a few other things depending on the weather and the walk. Formerly it belonged to long time Ramblings producer Lucy, and now Maggie and Karen. Today however it landed in my office, as Freelance Tom who sits opposite me will be using it for three summer recordings. I think pink is his colour, he's certainly tall enough.

Monday 8th July 2019

While I'm slaving over a hot keyboard in Bristol, Mrs Dawes is about her business. And that business is gardening. I like the way Julie conducts her gardening. I'd be working for anyone who'd pay. Julie is a lot more discerning and pick and chooses her clients to suit. Consequently many of her clients live around Wedmore in deepest Somerset.  Not for Julie tiny box sized plots full of rubbish from people who can't be bothered in town or suburbia. No for Julie it is, lovely gardens, in rural settings, owned by passionate clients who mostly have little time to do what they'd love to do. So today Julie was at Chapel Allerton, about 10 miles south of the Mendips. We chatted on the phone at lunchtime, and so she took a photograph of her view, sitting relaxing by the church. It can't be bad.

Sunday July 7th 2019

C BBC

It's almost impossible to convey what an effect this series has had on me. Tonight was the final episode, episode 8. I knew it would gallop through the real Anne Lister story as I've read it. But that matters not one bit. Before May 19th 2019 I'd not heard of Anne Lister of Shibden Hall. I watched the first episode, more out of curiosity, rather than a longing to know more. By the end of that 58 minutes I was hooked into this world of 1830's minor landowner, scientist, industrialist, eccentric, passionate (and yes a lesbian) woman. The BBC series which ended tonight was absolutely outstanding. Suranne Jones had brought this woman to life, nearly 200 years after her untimely death. Sophie Rundle as Ann Walker, plays an absolute corker of a supporting role.

But that's not why I'm spellbound. Victorian Society locked women into a 'perfect role' for nearly a century. It was only with the Sufferage Movement and the roaring 1920's that started to break down these roles. Yet, as I've been reading, before Victoriana swept everything away, women (of a certain class in Georgian England) could be free. Yes they had restrictions, and Anne Lister dressed in black and striding about the place like a man was odd. But only odd to a small portion of society (sound familiar today?). She was bright, she was entertaining and she was also ruthless in preserving the traditions she held closely. She was at the very end, and the very beginning of a chapter of English history. She was a woman of her time. She played the game which had to be played. A game she won, otherwise we'd not be writing about her nearly 200 years after her death. I am absolutely fascinated by her, the real Anne Lister of Shibden Hall.

Saturday July 6th 2019

About three years ago, Julie and I visited Prince Charle's Highrove Garden in Gloucestershire. Buried deep in one area of this magnificent horticultural jewel, was a small walled garden filled with Salvia pratensis, or meadow clary. A shocking vivid sky blue. Since then, while it's not that unusual a plant, I've struggled to find one to buy. Until today. At Tyntesfield they have a good plant shop, and a vivid sky blue flower caught my eye. Oh yes, S pratensis in all its glory. Our garden may not be on the scale of Highgrove, but it brings joy to us both in little bundles like this. And of course the 20% volunteer discount helped!

Friday 5th July 2019

It's been a busy week and I'm working at Tyntesfield tomorrow. So after getting home, feet up, a refreshing drink and relax. What chubby little feet.

Thursday 4th July 2019

~ What a strange night ~

Last evening it being hot and sunny, we chatted of our promenading along Weston Super Mare's seafront tonight. To cool down. To have an ice cream. Maybe a nice cup of tea. The date was set, time, 7PM. We arrived at Weston to be greeted by a tsunami of motorbikes. No one told us (Or I'd not thought) there was a 'bikers' meeting on the seafront tonight. As far as the eye could see there were motor bicycles parked on the seafront. Thousands of them. We didn't stop. Not least as parking was neigh on impossible. So in an inspirational moment, and a 15 minute drive south we ended up as the quiet Red Cow in Brent Knoll.For nearly 4 years in the 1990's I lived over the hill in East Brent. The Red Cow was a local pub for me. It's hardly changed, actually it hasn't changed at all, only the prices. Nice to be back, and so peaceful to be having some food in the back garden serenaded by swallows and not tailpipes.

Wednesday July 3rd 2019

Are we surrounded by aliens? What is this I see before me? Relaxing in the sunshine, as I was, my eye was caught by this small advice card dangling from my mug. On the face of it a simple how-to squeeze out your tea bag. But is it that simple? Are we already being invaded and this is a plan of how the aliens will land in my tea cup - no one says these out of space beings are human size. Maybe they're already here? Lurking to catch me unawares. I'll have to keep an eye on this otherwise a restless night approaches, deep with worry!

Tuesday July 2nd 2019

By the power of social media, I now know my parents have a disabled parking bay. Not that they would have told me, but their lovely carer Kate keeps me abreast of the odd goings back home in the north east. Apparently it all happened like lightening. No sooner had the chap arrived and dad had moved his car, the deed was done and the Council operative was off. Honestly the things people do to stop their son visiting. I've no idea where I'll park now. 

Good job then I was off to a media press launch at Tyntesfield this evening. I'm appreciated there.

Monday July 1st 2019

Bailing hay in the evening sun, late evening sun to be precise, as it was close to 9pm. Not that remarkable an image normally (and shooting into the sun wasn't great) but I made the effort to capture what may be the last harvest off these fields. As the fields lie behind the house. This month the landowner has submitted for planning permission to build 75 homes on this and another field. These fields are not in the approved housing envelope for Weston super Mare, but they are on a plan of potential land for development created in 2014 (very quietly). Already before anything formal has arisen the neighbourhood is up in arms. I loathe seeing fields built on, but also understand that with the local authority being told they have to build 25,000 houses in 20 years, the pressure is on. It's not Nimbyism to say these fields are not in the right place to be built on. More problems than solutions to their building. But we'll see, But I wonder how many more times will I hear the hum of machinery, or the lowing of cattle on these fields on a summers evening?