Little Corner of the Earth

HALLELUJAH!

2011-12-24T20:27:00.003Z

About this time, on the first Christmas night angels were supposed to have sung "Hallelujah" to flock-watching shepherds.

Lately we have been discussing hymn-singing and Leonard Cohen (but not at the same time) at the
TONE DEAF blog of Lorenzo da Ponte.

Thus my reason for my Christmas present to you

HAPPY CHRISTMAS
AND A PEACEFUL 2012 TO YOU

"COUNTRY BOY"

2011-10-26T16:12:00.014+01:00

I have just been re-reading (for the nth time) this book by “Richard Hillyer”. The biography, to the age of about 17, of a boy born into a farm labouring family in 1901. Totally self educated, he managed to reach university and ended his long life (died 1980) as a Canon of Durham Cathedral having written a number of books. His real name was Charles James Stranks and the village he calls “Byfield” in the book is Hardwick in Buckinghamshire, UK.

Without sentiment or pastiche he brings out the grinding poverty of the farm labourer’s existence at the beginning of the last century – yet manages to convey the pride, courage and dignity which went with it. Elements of John Clare’s work come to mind.

It is available for a song on Amazon and worth every moment spent reading it. I thoroughly recommend it.

I was born in 1938 in a country village which had changed little from the years he describes. The Second World War was in progress as I became sentient to my surroundings. The young men had left the village to go to war. The dignified and respected elders, many with bishop-like mien, were left to labour on the farms. Tractors and fuel went to the war effort. The horse and cart ruled once more.

My maternal grandparents were farm workers, living in a tied cottage. With my own father away at the war I spent much of my time with my grandfather who was Horseman on that farm; a farm dedicated to fruit orchards, nut platts and some beef cattle; a horse and cart was ideal to thread its way through the orchards and along the narrow winding lanes between. The warm, sweet smell of hay in the horse stable comes to mind, as I write this.

Grandfather with "Duke" c. 1938

My first memory of release from my enclosed world was as a small boy of about 4, sitting on a folded sack on the edge of a cart, beside my grandfather as he took the horse about 3 miles to a village blacksmith for re-shoeing. It seemed to take for ever as we clopped along what is now a fast main road which I have since traversed, under power, in less than ten minutes.

Not all was good though. My grandfather caught a bad chill through being out in the rain and the farmer hounded him back to work too soon. This brought on pneumonia and he died in 1944, aged 54 (but will always be “ancient” to me). My grandmother had to leave the tied farm cottage within a month. Always a fighter, she had all the house contents taken to the village hall and auctioned them off. Then she entered service as a housekeeper, only retiring at 75 to come and live with my mother.

Like “Richard Hillyer” I came from such a background and attended the village school. Like him, my “prospects” would have been to enter a similar life had my mother not instilled a love of reading into me. Because of this I passed the exam to attend the local grammar school (the “11+”). There are those that denigrate grammar schools and this entry exam, but because of it I, a fairly poor country boy, was able to make my way in the world. I shall be forever grateful to her and that chance.

KEEP RIGHT ON.......

2011-06-17T09:53:00.004+01:00

I have owned, ridden and restored motorcycles now for over 50 years. It is an activity I love and enjoy. Thus, in spite of increasing arthritis I do not intend to give it up.

I found this video clip a poignant and inspiring commentary, not merely about motorcycling, but on the general battle against life’s little difficulties as we approach old age.

Best watched with your sound on. You may click on the "4 arrows" symbol, bottom right of link, to increase view to full screen size.

ROYAL ENFIELD "BULLET"

2011-04-27T15:32:00.019+01:00

Amongst my many motorcycles, I owned a succession of three Royal Enfield “Bullets” back in the ‘60s. An underrated motorcycle, they were never as popular as BSA, Velocette and Norton amongst single cylinder machine riders. Here is my 1956 version, suitably posed, in 1963.

Some history is now needed. The first Royal Enfield motorcycle was made in 1901 and over the years the company was responsible for many innovations in the motorcycle world – the first to use swinging arm rear springing, for instance. During the 1950’s they received a big order from the Indian Army for their 350cc Bullet model. This led the company to help India set up its own Royal Enfield factory in Madras (now Chennai). Morris cars did similarly and now versions of their old 1956 “Oxford” model form the bulk of Indian taxis.

The British motorcycle industry withered and finally died in the late ‘60s/early ‘70s, Royal Enfield included. But its “child” matured, prospered and continued to flourish in India. There will always be those amongst us that enjoy traditional, simple, solid motorcycles and, with almost poetic assonance, the Indian child began exporting its machines back to Britain in the ‘80s. They still do so and we are their best export market. Thus Royal Enfield can claim to have the longest continuous production run of any motorcycle in the world.

Which brings me to the reason for this posting. I remember with affection those Royal Enfields I owned over 50 years ago. I have often hankered to own another. I could have bought an original to recondition, but age and a prostate operation have led to a drawback – no electric starters in those days and kick-starting a 500cc single cylinder is only for the young and active! But, praise be, India has now equipped their time-warp machines with electric starters. A chance trawl in eBay brought up a 2005 model so equipped. I succumbed and won the auction for it.

My 48th motorcycle, it now shares the garage with the BMW and the Honda scooter. By no means a motorway rocket, it is happiest thumping along between 50 and 60 miles per hour, but returns an incredible 85 miles to each gallon of petrol. In this manner one enters an earlier motoring world - delightful, serene and relaxed. Almost without exception, whenever I park it I am engaged in conversation; “I had one of those when young”, “Is it original?” etc.

There is something about the exhaust beat of a “big single”. Akin to the chug – chug – chug of a traditional canal barge, it is deeply relaxing and pleasurable. Some have said that this is the result of spending 9 months nestling in the womb under a mother’s steady heartbeat.

Here is a picture of the beast (It has been re-registered with a 1963 number plate - the year I first owned a Royal Enfield) There is not a lot of superficial difference between it and the1956 version above, but it has an ELECTRIC STARTER!

(click either photo to enlarge)

WINTER'S BLACK DOG IS KENNELLED

2011-04-06T10:24:00.000+01:00

Spring, with the cuckoo-sob deep in his throat,

O’er all the land his thrilling whispers float,

Old earth believes his ancient lies once more,

And runs to meet him in a golden coat.

(origin of verse, anyone?)

BREAKING FREE

2011-01-03T14:51:00.007Z

Late December snows have looked very pretty and seasonal (viewed from a warm room, glass in hand). However it has meant that venturing abroad on two wheels was very inadvisable. But a day came when the roads were at last clear and ice free. Even the sun shone in a cloudless blue sky. Having become slightly "stir-crazy" I jumped at the chance to release the Dawes bicycle from its stable and toddled off for a morning's run over Romney Marsh and to get a sight of the sea. Within two miles a heavy fog rolled in with visibility down to about 50 metres!

Having started I intended to finish, so continued on to my destination, via a couple of miles along the sea wall, to the little town of Dymchurch where I knew a cafe would be open. Some chance of a sea view - the tide was well out over the sand flats and was lost in the fog.

However the cafe was warm and welcoming. There followed a large cup of tea and two slices of toast upon which rested two fried eggs. The "engine" thus refuelled for the return 12 miles, I pushed for home.

The Marsh has its own particular beauty under clear skies

But even I could not describe it as other than austere in the fog.

The damp clung to me and necessitated periodic stops to wipe my specs to enhance the available visibilty. A very misty and moist morning but, disappointingly, no sign of "an old man clothed all in leather"

A VERY HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL

2010-12-18T10:12:00.004Z

As Mr R Kipling had it over 100 years ago

O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";

But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play.

(Please click on link above to learn more about this superb charity)

Transport through the Ages (3)

2010-12-09T11:10:00.005Z

HHnB, in her blog has mentioned that she rode pillion on a motorcycle since the age of 8. Reference to image files proves that this is so. Above you see her in 1967 alongside my ex-police LE Velocette.
These side valve 200cc bikes were so feeble that one was overtaken on hills by Japanese Honda 50cc scooterettes. Top speed, without a headwind, was about 50 m.p.h.on the flat. However they have a charm about them. Being water-cooled they are almost silent (great for country policemen to creep up on poachers!) and still have an enthusiastic following in spite of being discontinued in 1970. (I had three at various times but grew out of them).
My present Honda SH300 scooter is what they should have been and I look upon it as a latter day, improved version.

PILOT OFFICER ARTHUR WILLIAM CLARKE

2010-11-05T17:06:00.010Z

Our National Day of Remembrance is on November 11th and this year is also the 70th anniversary of the Battle of Britain. I should like to remember one man who can represent all the young men who fought in the skies above South Eastern Britain in that summer of 1940.

My cycle rides take me through the tranquil fields and under the vast skies of Romney Marsh in Kent. But in 1940 it would have been a very different scene. Air war was being waged here and as I turn a corner ahead I can see a lonely roadside monument.

Arriving at the corner one sees it is a grave, but a grave without a body. The remains of Pilot Officer Arthur William Clarke lie still within his Hurricane fighter nearby - embraced by Mother Earth, 30 feet beneath the peaceful fields of Romney Marsh, but by no means forgotten. Whenever I pass I will stop for a moment and there are always fresh flowers on the monument.

The story behind this little corner of the earth is poignantly told in detail here. Please do Arthur the honour of reading it.

"Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few"

The above link is a fitting ending to this post and is worth watching to the end.

Autumn in Dorset

2010-10-05T17:57:00.006+01:00

A family bereavement caused us to cancel our summer holiday, so now a week in Dorset beckoned. It is a lovely county, fairly unknown and forgotten by the hordes, but known and cherished by, amongst others, Thomas Hardy aficionados.

Our caravan settled down in a field on a small farm, with glorious views from the front window

However, there is a price to pay - to enjoy a view one needs a hill, which means a slope. Siting the caravan was tricky but accomplished, with the help of stone props.

The caravan is level, the angle of the awning gives some idea of the slope.

But the autumn days were glorious.We awoke to misty mornings

But by about 10 o'clock the sun had burned through, drying the hedgerows and burnishing the autumn fruits

and lighting sympathetically the views over the Blackmoor Vale (which Hardy likened to the "cottage garden of Dorset")

On only one morning did we draw the curtains to find rain obscuring the view

And that day we made good use of our National Trust membership to visit Kingston Lacy

All in all a gentle, relaxing holiday. No plans, no rush. A gentle nurse for fractured souls.

AUTUMN APPROACHES

2010-09-07T09:27:00.005+01:00

Awoke to the first "Misty, moisty morning" today.

Autumn is arriving, with its sense of completion and bounty .

(Blogging has taken a back seat these last couple of months with my mind on other things.)

CORNISH HOLIDAY

2010-07-06T17:45:00.025+01:00

Just returned from 10 days immersed in Cornwall.

Cornish Wild Flowers

Woodland Rivers

Bodmin Moor and Rough Tor (link)

Prehistoric Hut Circles (What was the life of a megalithic farmer like, tending sheep on these moorlands? Bleak, according to our standards, maybe? Or Arcadian according to theirs? The climate was warmer then. There is clean running water nearby. There are signs of early agriculture. Warmth, shelter, food and drink. It could have been a simple and satisfying life even with an expectancy of about 30 years absolute maximum.)

Tiddy Oggies (link)

Cornish Clotted Cream Teas

Oh... and the (fairly) new dog, Rex, enjoyed himself having been introduced to "watersports" - a new experience for him but he took to it like a duck to water!

HAPPY DAYS

2010-06-05T18:19:00.017+01:00

This morning we loaded the car with quantities of baggage, plus my antipodean daughter, HHnB and her husband to travel to Heathrow airport. This was at the relatively civilised hour of 7.00am - 5 weeks ago we had to leave for Heathrow at 3.00am to pick them up at 500.am when they arrived from Oz - hot, tired, dishevelled and jet lagged. (Most of which applied to us too!).

It was wonderful to see them again and they had a super holiday here. As you may see below, I kept my promises. The bluebells were right on schedule and a perfect June morning allowed me to give my daughter the (60 mile) motorcycle ride she had asked for. (With a stop for coffee and dark chocolate and ginger fridge cake at a seashore hostlery).

The house seemed very empty when we returned from Heathrow, but Rex made it pretty obvious that he was glad to see us.

Until the next time, my dears.

PILGRIMAGE

2010-03-31T13:01:00.019+01:00

As Chaucer has it:

"Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote

The droghte of March hath perced to the roote....

...Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages"

(now, persevere, this is all relevant!)

In the early '60s I worked in my father-in-law's blacksmith/engineering business which specialised in wrought iron ornamental work. I did the estimates.

One day we received a request for a quote to make 7 vast ornamental gates to fit the archways of the being restored Aylesford Priory. These were to be backed with plate glass.

Such was the effort and complication involved we decided we did not really need the work and, having worked out a quote, doubled it to lose the business! Much to our amazement our quote was accepted. The plate glass sheets were a nightmare to cut and fit (we broke two) and we did point out that, as the gates were outdoors, metal expansion/contraction could well shatter the glass over time - this the architect ignored.

But fitting the gates was a wonderful experience, taking one back to the times when mediaeval craftsmen were constructing the cathedrals.

Work was going on all around us with the construction of the shrine

and at mid day all the workmen would gather for a meal in the monks' refectory, prepared in the monastery kitchens, while we were lucky (?) enough to have a monk at the lectern reading from the scriptures whilst we ate. (The food was excellent). An experience that has stayed with me all my life. When I first saw the television Cadfael series it was like déja vu!

However, the reason for Chaucer's opening lines here is that it is some years since I last visited the Priory and, although wanting a few days until April, with showers far from "soote" (sweet) at present, I decided "goon on pilgrimages" and see how all our work (which developed into more than just gates as time went by) was faring.

All gates are still OK after nearly 50 years in place, although all but one of the plate glass backings have been replaced with perspex after they broke (told you so!)

And both the great coats of arms (see first panorama shot of site, above) all fashioned in wrought iron (the lettering was crafted by "old Mac" our oldest employee with a lifetime doing such special work) still look good, although one is missing an "M" I notice.

As with our ancient cathedrals, this work should still be there in 500 years hence - a lasting testimony to the firm of "J. Emery & Son (Maidstone) Ltd." which existed only until my father-in-law's death some 20 years ago.

FOR BARRETT BONDEN

2010-03-16T13:55:00.000Z

This photograph of a garden rake being put to good use is especially for Barret Bonden who will understand why I have included it.

TRANSPORT THROUGHT THE AGES (2)

2010-03-13T12:48:00.007Z

In the early '60s a car rammed the back of my bicycle at some 40 miles an hour, leading me to perform a parabolic curve towards the sky, leaving my shoes still captured by the pedal toeclips. I remember nothing of the accident, except coming to with an excruciating back pain whilst being strapped to a spinal board.

Apparently I came down on my head (a pretty solid part of the Avus anatomy), concertina-ing my spine and fracturing 3 vertabrae (nearly 50 years later, wet weather always reminds me of this).

However, every cloud has a silver lining (although not immediately apparent at the time). The subsequent compensation enabled me to buy a second hand motorcycle combination with a huge family sidecar. Here a somewhat larger munchkin takes her brother for a ride in Ashdown Forest.

Hopefully, in May, there will be a finale for this sequence when HHnB rides pillion on the BMW.

TRANSPORT THROUGH THE AGES!

2010-02-22T11:04:00.001Z

Looking through some old photographs on this, a cold wet day, I found a memory of how a young married couple with two children travelled in the early 1960s. The little munchkin peering over the child seat now makes mosaics in Australia!

ALL BETTER!

2010-02-11T15:02:00.004Z

My SAAB car was in the wars before Christmas. The insurance assessor was going to write it off, but changed his mind and allowed the repair.

BEFORE

4 WEEKS AND NEARLY £5,000 LATER

Researching the internet I see that this model (2002) is now valued at £4,500 and the garage tells me that the insurance assessor wishes he had given me the money!

HOPE

2010-02-07T17:09:00.008Z

Welcome, wild harbinger of spring!

To this small nook of Earth.

Bernard Barton

A cold February morning. A thin north-easterly wind in my face as I pedalled my bicycle up the rise from Romney Marsh. Stopping for a breather at the top I surveyed a panorama of dull greys, greens and browns. But there in the leafless, newly flailed hedgerow, right by my resting place, a yellow spray of wild gorse had defiantly asserted that Spring is not too far away.

In view of my blog's title Barton's second line seemed appropriate.

WINTER AFTERNOON

2010-01-15T16:31:00.007Z

I have been getting slightly "stir crazy", not able to get out on two wheels since Christmas. Riding on ice and snow is OK if done carefully, but it is other road users of whom one needs to be in fear. However most roads are now ice-free, so some fresh air called. If nothing else, the image proves that I am not just a fair weather rider (even if my blog's header image suggests otherwise).

THANKS, POHANGINA PETE

2010-01-13T16:23:00.011Z

I have always been impressed by Pohangina Pete's blog with his ability to post large images. I asked him how he did it and he was most generous with his time and advice (a natural teacher, is Pete).
So now I can manage large images too......thanks to Pete.

AT EASE

2010-01-01T13:19:00.023Z

Lined coat, warm cap and felt slippers,
In the little tower, at the low window,
Sitting over the sunken brazier.
Body at rest, heart at peace; no need to rise early.
I wonder if the courtiers at the Western Capital know of these things or not?

Po Chü-I (772 – 846)

Congratulating himself on the comforts of life after his retirement from office. (c844)
(Arthur Waley translation)

These lines, I have always felt, convey absolute comfort and contentment. (my feelings when taking early retirement!).

I dedicate them to you all as a wish for the coming year.

HAPPY CHRISTMAS !

2009-12-21T10:41:00.003Z

CHRISTMAS PRESENT

2009-12-21T10:13:00.001Z

Just had a call from the SAAB's insurers - they have agreed to repair it rather than write it off.

OUCH!

2009-12-19T18:25:00.017Z

A very busy, multi-entry roundabout. The Avus SAAB joins it; a scream of brakes behind; an almighty BANG and suddenly I have been turned through 180 degrees, sitting there dazed with all the traffic still trying to speed around me. If you must be in a collision I recommend that you do not choose a high velocity Range Rover to do the job!

The garage tells me that this almighty dent will mean that the car is written off as not economical to repair. So a meticulously maintained motor car, (£300 service three days ago, too) with 4 new tyres, is consigned to the rubbish heap. How "green" is that?

CANIS PRESTIDIGITATUS

2009-12-11T16:18:00.008Z

I happily made up a meat sandwich for a light lunch, topped it with a packet of crisps and laid a square of paper napkin on top of the pile. Then I made a cup of tea.

Having left the plate on the low table beside my reading chair I returned to the kitchen to fetch the teacup, sat in my chair and turned my attention to the plate. There lay the packet of crisps with serviette atop, all perfectly undisturbed, but no meat sandwich under them.

Rex, the new dog, lay contentedly stretched out on the carpet before me - not a crumb in sight. How the hell did he do it so perfectly, quickly and surgically?

(the images are reconstructions of the crime)

JOHN HEAD

2009-12-03T17:52:00.018Z

Regular readers of my musings will remember this posting where I extolled the beautifully kept Rudge Superbe I purchased from John Head, who could no longer ride it because of age.

I have just learnt that John has died quite recently. The Rudge's wheels have turned full circle. Every time I take it out to meander around this Little Corner of the Earth John will be in my thoughts. The bicycle will be enjoyed as he is remembered.

I think that is how he would have liked it.

R.I.P. John

REX

2009-11-25T15:01:00.017Z

It is 8 months since we lost our last dog, Sabre and just recently I have felt the time was right for another animal to come into our lives - in spite of Kipling's view on the subject.

I have never been one for puppies, preferring to rescue an unwanted or stray dog in need of a good home. Not having much luck with the national German Shepherd Rescue Society my wife and I, on the spur of the moment, decided to visit a rescue kennel some 20 miles away.

My daughter, with similar affinities, has always said that "when the right dog needs you, he will find you" .

And there he was - sitting in cage 5, bright eyed, tail wagging, tongue lolling, waiting for us to come along and take him home. Rex, 3 years old, taken into kennels a week ago because of a broken marriage.

The obviously heartbroken previous owner (never identified to the new one) had left a note with him giving some details of likes and dislikes. The last sentence read "once he gets to trust you, you are his friend for life. I know".

He is settling well, obviously had some training and eager to please (too eager sometimes!) . However, we are off to the vet's in an hour for a checkover and jabs, so I might not be flavour of the month for a while after.

THE WAY THROUGH THE WOODS

2009-11-13T10:33:00.029Z

They shut the road through the woods
Seventy years ago.
Weather and rain have undone it again,
And now you would never know
There was once a road through the woods
Before they planted the trees.
It is underneath the coppice and heath,
And the thin anemones.
Only the keeper sees
That, where the ring-dove broods,
And the badgers roll at ease,
There was once a road through the woods.

Yet, if you enter the woods
Of a summer evening late,
When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools
Where the otter whistles his mate.
(They fear not men in the woods,
Because they see so few)
You will hear the beat of a horse's feet,
And the swish of a skirt in the dew,
Steadily cantering through
The misty solitudes,
As though they perfectly knew
The old lost road through the woods….
But there is no road through the woods

Rudyard Kipling

(A gentle autumn afternoon's potter on my bicycle led me down a country lane. The hedgerows closed in either side. The lane became a farm track. The track ended at a derelict, overgrown five-bar gate. I pushed through and found myself on a forgotten, ancient road that led down through the woods, emerging onto the levels of Romney Marsh. Kipling's words slid into my meditative mind as my tyres rode over the soft leaf litter, the crack of the occasional broken twig almost an intruder on my musings.)

ACTING SERGEANT MICHAEL LOCKETT

2009-11-03T15:24:00.009Z

Our National Time of Remembrance comes round again. Poppy wreaths will be placed against memorials and bugles will sound the "Last Post" (or "Taps" in the USA)

Acting Sgt Michael Lockett, who was killed in Helmand on Monday 21st September 2009, was the first holder of the Military Cross to die in battle since the Second World War. In remembering him I remember all those who are fighting and dying now in Afghanistan and all those who have gone before. He exemplifies all that is best in a soldier and can stand for all of them.

Can I ask you to go to this article. It is quite a long one, but please do "Locky" the honour of reading it all. It made me feel proud, humble and not a little angry at the politicians who send these fine young men to die in often senseless wars.

HONDA SH300i SCOOTER

2009-09-20T13:28:00.012+01:00

(click any image to enlarge)

Barrett Bonden has posted about Honda's latest motorcycle which has an automatic gearbox and asked for my opinion (as a dyed in the wool motorcyclist ) . This naturally got me thinking about the automatic scooter that I have added to my stable, the Honda SH300i .

I have ridden and restored motorcycles, exclusively, for over 50 years having owned about 42 over that period. Scooters had never remotely interested me. However Honda brought out this range with larger, motorcycle type wheels and I threw prejudice aside and had a test ride. What a revelation!

I can honestly say that it is the best "motorcycle" that I have ever owned. Not the most expensive, the most interesting, the most desirable or the most characterful, but the one which does everything I want it to comfortably, smoothly, efficiently and economically. I ride it in ordinary clothes in a breathable "Peter Storm" outdoor jacket. Once off the machine the helmet and gloves are stowed in the top box. It has an underseat storage area which takes a lightweight waterproof overall and any small goodies purchased along the way. Behind the front fairing is a glove box with a 12 volt charging outlet for a mobile phone.

My BMW motorcycle gives me exhilaration, but the Honda is the most used - in preference even to the car and it was used throughout last winter in snow, rain and frost. The worst aspect of such use is the salt which is spread on our roads in winter to keep them ice free - however all vulnerable parts were liberally sprayed with ACF-50 which keeps corrosion at bay, although at the end of the winter the road parts looked like the bike had been through a farmyard! But when cleaned off it was as good as new.

I suffer from poor circulation in the hands and the ultimate luxury it has to offer is heated handgrips. These, combined with its designed-in protection and the extra clip -on lap blanket meant that I was warm and cosy all winter.

Its 280cc engine, taken from a Honda motocross bike, enables it to cruise on motorways at 70mph (116kmh) with some 15mph still in hand for overtakes. In my hands it consistently returns 80mpg ( 3.5 litres per 100 km). With fuel here costing £1.04 per litre what more could one ask?

It has ABS on both brakes, electric starting, fuel injection, watercooling and completely automatic (CVT) transmission (so no gear changes or clutch to bother about). For those interested in such things a technical spec. can be seen here .

You might think that I was somewhat enthusiastic about the machine - you would be right. I can think of no better answer to open air, comfortable and economical travel.

"Works Well", B.B.? I should think so!

SHOES

2009-09-18T20:19:00.003+01:00

HHnB has just posted about her new shoes (which, she says, are unfortunately not red"). This reminded me that in the back of the wardrobe there still existed a relic from the mid '70s . My pair of red patent leather shoes which were worn with a pair of grey chalkstripe flaired trousers, a blue patterned shirt and a paisley "kipper" tie. Be kind to me, people - autres temps, autres moeurs!

Thing is, having put them on for the first time in 30 years, they are very comfortable, but I don't feel like being a fashion icon any more. (I wonder, if I click the (highish) heels three times, I can fly off to Oz like Dorothy? Except my Oz would be W. Australia!)

NORFOLK REPORT

2009-09-09T09:48:00.022+01:00

(click any image to enlarge)

Norfolk..........a leisurely, enjoyable week. A cosy spot to set up our caravanserai under the apple trees,

Norfolk skies with the harvest in

Norfolk churches

The nostalgia of "clackity-clack" rides through the Norfolk countryside on old railway lines in ancient carriages drawn by a steam engine

and a vintage Routemaster ex-London bus taking passengers from the train station to the town (Holt)

But there was work to be done for HHnB who had requested detailed pictures of the "Great Wall" of Erpingham for her future inspiration.

(a complete set of model "T" Ford wheels are embedded)

However, the real serendipity was that the house owner and builder of the wall, seeing me photographing, came out to ask (in an almost impossible to imitate in print, wonderful Norfolk accent) "Yew loiiike thaaat, then?" He had owned a rubbish skip business, wherefrom had come the wall's ingredients (he still had two fields full of the stuff as well a collection of 30 horse carts and pony traps). He and his wife had taken 7 years to build it together. Unfortunately she had died some 3 months previously. Telling him that I was there because a daughter in Australia had seen the wall on the net and wanted pictures, he was happy to accede to my request for his picture by it. "Mr. Wright" he said his name was - (the formalities were preserved). His somewhat set expression was down to the regrettable results of a stroke.

Oh - and I can recommend the fresh-caught Cromer crab!

ANY IDEAS?

2009-08-25T12:18:00.003+01:00

In the past, whenever a comment has been posted on this blog, an email message appears in my Hotmail inbox to notify me of the poster and the comment. Recently this has been very spasmodic and many of your comments have not been notified.

Any ideas about this please?

The Gypsy Life

2009-08-14T17:32:00.004+01:00

Been taking a break from blogging recently. When it starts to feel like an obligation, then I feel it's time for a rest.

We are now off for a week in the caravan to North Norfolk - an area we have not visited for years. A gentle landscape, pretty villages, Roman remains, large stately homes and delicious, fresh caught crab. No real plans - just take life as it comes (and hopefully it will come with ice, lemon, tonic and gin!). However, our mosaicist daughter has given instructions that she wants detailed photographs of the Great Wall of Erpingham

Here is a sample of this fascinating construction - the link above will show you much more.

Having researched the internet I see that the Spread Eagle Inn at Erpingham offers good, home cooked food - so, definitely a day spent there.

Sandringham House, the Queen's country home will not be far from the farm where we are parking up, so a visit there will be reserved for a wet day and I guess that there may be some of those. However, we take the line, along with Alfred Wainwright, that "there is no such thing as bad weather, only unsuitable clothing" - so we get by.
"Catch you all later", as our colonial cousins would have it.

Word Verification

2009-07-27T15:00:00.002+01:00

I am turning word verification back on for your comments, as previous posts seem to be getting inundated with loads of Japanese comments. They may be genuine: they may be adverts. However, since I cannot read them I cannot tell.

THE ROMAN SAUSAGE RUN

2009-06-29T20:37:00.021+01:00

(click any picture to enlarge)

The Romans built a road from their port/fort near Hythe to Ashford where it met their road from the Wealden ironworks on its way towards Canterbury. Most of it is still used as an arrow-straight country lane, but it became abandoned near my home and runs under the gardens of the house next door.

This road is my route to the village of Aldington

and about once a month my bicycle takes me the 5 miles to a rural gem of a shop by the roadside, both butcher and baker, slaughtering their own meat and baking their own cakes and pastries.

The aim is to take on supplies of their delicious and varied sausages to restock the freezer. (This time I chose pork and apple, pork with stuffing, pork with hops and beef with horseradish).

Ten miles does not constitute a cycle ride however so, saddle bag sausage-laden I continued in the sunshine along Rome's road, passing the historic pub which was the headquarters of notorious smuggling gangs in earlier times. The scene of running battles (and deaths) with "The Revenue" and the "Aldington Gang".

My goal was the village of Lympne (pronounced "Limm").

Its name a corruption of the Roman name for their fort and port, "Portus Lemanis". Itself named after the defunct river estuary of the River Limen.

A winding path takes me to the escarpment overlooking a panorama of Romney Marsh. Time for a coffee break and the puff-pastry pecan plait (how's that for alliteration?) picked up with the sausages.

Below me are the remains of an outpost of ancient Rome. The 2nd century "Saxon Shore" fort protecting the harbour of the port and home to part of the Roman-British fleet the "Classis Britannicus". All is now tumbled ruins. Landslip and stone robbing for the nearby mediaeval castle has left but the crumbled stone stumps.

Looking across and beyond one sees a sanitised canal cutting through arable fields towards the seawall in the distance. The canal all that remains of the River Limen, the seawall converting what was a vast tidal bay into modern farmlands. The picture below looks back to the fort . One must imagine the salt waves lapping to the line of trees at the bottom of the escarpment in Roman times. The Castle, built from the Roman stones stands at top right.

However - enough of musing on history and Kipling's "Salt marsh where now is corn" . The coffee is drunk, the pastry eaten. The way beckons.

Sausages were on the menu that evening.

A LITTLE BIT OF ALAN BENNETT

2009-05-11T19:43:00.002+01:00

HHnB and I recently had an email discussion about Alan Bennett, a wry, gentle author and playwright whom we both enjoy.

One (amongst many) of his bon mots comes in his play and film "The History Boys" and it puts into words something felt, but very hard to express. So perfect and sweet it is that I thought it worth sharing with those who may not know it. The teacher of English, Hector, says to a pupil:

"The best moments in reading are when you come across something - a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things - which you thought special and particular to you. Now here it is, set down by someone else, a person you have never met, someone even who is long dead. And it is as if a hand has come out and taken yours."

Now isn't that just perfect and what would one give to be taught by such a man.

"ONLY A DOG"

2009-05-06T09:14:00.020+01:00

(click any picture to enlarge)

Sabre "found" us, aged two. A local German Shepherd Rescue Society directed me to him and he came untrained, ungroomed tangled coat and with the strength of a young horse. However, I have an affinity with dogs and with the help of a Halti lead and that splendid book, "The Dog Listener" he learnt that I, not he, was the Alpha Male.
Happy with this understanding he took his place in our "pack" and became a great softy who loved a romp with our 6 grandchildren - I have a happy memory of him vainly trying to shepherd them as they ran over a local field.
We caravan and he was a constant companion on all our holidays, making the load area of the estate car his own sleeping area. When we visited towns or country houses he was happy to be left guarding the car, loosely chained with the back door open.

With us he "triangulated" England. From Hadrian's Wall in the North,

where he became "mascot" to my fellow members of The Ermine Street Guard,

South-West to the Cornish coast

and, nearer to home in the South-East, walking the paths above the White Cliffs of Dover with my eldest grandson.

Reaching the age of twelve he was still happy to romp in the recent February snows.

Three days before our Australian holiday he showed signs of panic and distress - meandering around the house, pushing his head into tight corners and upsetting objects. He was due to be cared for by our son and I could not leave with him in this state, so the day before we flew I took him to the vet. She immediately diagnosed a brain tumour, to which elderly Shepherds are susceptible. Our eyes met and I knew there was only one decision to make.
A great English countryside writer is able to tell the rest far better than I:
"he died, swiftly and easily, with his head in my hands. Such is the price of love, which exacts nothing less than a part of ourselves, great or small, according as the occasion and our temperament decree. A dog is, of course, only a dog. His death is universal and not new. Two thousand years ago a Greek countryman suffered a similar bereavement, whereof the monument was discovered by archaeologists. "If," said the inscription, "you pass by this way, and happen to notice this stone, do not laugh, even though it is only a dog's grave. Tears fell for my sake, and the earth was heaped above me by a master's hand, who likewise carved these words."

Goodbye old friend.

HOME AGAIN

2009-04-30T09:11:00.011+01:00

What can I say? We had a wonderful 6 weeks with our daughter

and Australian relatives. The Aussies lived up to their reputation for throwing a good one when they gave us a great Golden Wedding Party

As many will know from her site, HHnB constructs mosaics and her present to us was a beautiful bird bath made with her own fair hands and showing Golden Wattle (Australia's national emblem) for a Golden Wedding . Fortunately business class air travel allowed for weightier baggage, since the bowl is of very substantial earthenware measuring some 30cm across by 8cm deep!

Now safely installed on a pedestal on our lawn, the birds are already making use of it.

And our presents to each other? They had to reflect our celebration in Australia, so Mrs Avus received an opal pendant set in white gold, chosen in the Fremantle Opal shop and I, naturally, chose an Akubra "Snowy River" hat.

As to our Australian experiences? I can do no better than quote from her national poet (who wrote "Waltzing Matilda"):

"And the bush has friends to meet him,and their kindly voices greet him
In the murmur of the breezes and the river on its bars,
And he sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended
And at night the wondrous glory of the everlasting stars"

OFF ON OUR TRAVELS

2009-03-04T12:09:00.008Z

Well, the time has almost arrived for Mrs Avus and I to be off to Western Australia for 6 weeks (albeit by Boeing 747, rather than BMW motorcycle - although that would have been an interesting experience of REAL travel!).

The Perth area contains a good number of Avus' relatives. Our daughter, of course, my wife's sister and brother and numerous in-laws, cousins and niblets (collective noun for nephews/nieces). Looking forward to seeing them all again and celebrating our Golden Wedding whilst there.

So there may be some "interruption of service" for a while where this blog is concerned. However, if I get my hands on my daughter's PC, on a wet afternoon, who knows.....

There could be a "posting".

FOR VALONIA

2009-02-20T09:06:00.004Z

I have always felt a little ambivalent about publishing my picture on the blog, but since Valonia has blown my cover (see previous post's comments) I have decided to come clean.

Word Verification

2009-02-11T09:07:00.003Z

I am joining Lee (amongst others) in turning off Word Verification on the "comments" form. I know it's supposedly there to stop spam, but it is a source of irritation.
(If I now get flooded with spam I shall curse Lee and turn it back on)

Mature Love Poetry

2009-02-05T14:55:00.007Z

Lucy has a recent posting about mature love poetry. This inspired me to re-visit one of my favourite poets, Edna St Vincent Millay. I have a great love of most of her work, but Lucy's post brought to mind one (amongst many) of Edna's exquisite sonnets. Here she uses the third of the Greek Fates, Atropos, who cuts the thread of life, to make her point.

"I pray you if you love me, bear my joy
A little while, or let me weep your tears;
I, too, have seen the quavering Fate destroy
Your destiny's bright spinning - the dull shears
Meeting not neatly, chewing at the thread, -
Nor can you well be less aware how fine,
How staunch as wire, and how unwarranted
Endures the golden fortune that is mine.
I pray you for this day at least, my dear
Fare by my side, that journey in the sun;
Else must I turn me from the blossoming year
And walk in grief the way that you have gone.
Let us go forth together to the spring:
Love must be this, if it be anything."

Appropriate, as Spring approaches here in the Northern hemisphere.

JUST VENTURED OUT OF THE CAVE

2009-01-29T16:09:00.003Z

Having had the usual January feelings and also the most horrendous cold ever (started on New Year's Day and just getting better), I have not been in blogsphere for a while. However, things are looking up.

A bright and extremely cold day got me out on the bike for about 12 miles. Into town for a latte and cake at my favourite Italian coffee shop, home, and then after lunch to my country post office to send off a parcel. Could have gone to the town post office in the morning, but I needed the stimulus and exercise having not ridden a bicycle since January 1st. (Hard work,I have lost my wind and my legs!)

Why the town visit? To transfer funds ready for our 6 week visit to Australia in March. Time to see our daughter in Perth once more. We aim to celebrate our Golden Wedding whilst there and can rely on the Aussies for a good party!

So - a lot to look forward to. Think I will shut up the hibernation cave for another year.

FELICITATIONS FOR THE COMING YEAR

2009-01-01T10:48:00.004Z

(click to enlarge)

My best wishes to you all for 2009 - may the way be level and as you turn the corner ahead may the view be pleasant and calming.

Not having Patterson's sketching talents (see previous post) I must needs make do with a shot from my post-Christmas "dissipating the pudding" ride.

HAPPY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE

2008-12-20T12:55:00.005Z

As my present , may I introduce you to Britain's foremost cycling artist, Frank Patterson.

Elegant work and nostalgia for a more gentle time.

If you like his work can I suggest a further link where there is also a delightful Youtube presentation of his work. Enjoy!

I wish you all a very happy Christmas and a peaceful and healthy 2009.

BOOKSHELVES

2008-12-10T10:34:00.009Z

HerHimnBryn has just posted a view of her old friends nuzzling up together. As a lover of "reading" other peoples' book shelves I thought this would be a good meme (although I guess it must have been done before.)

So let's introduce our old friends to each other and post shots of our bookshelves. They will be a good read and might provide inspiration for new reading.

Queen Elizabeth the First once said she did not wish to open a window into men's souls (after the progroms of Bloody Mary), but our bookshelves do just that! So I will lay myself open, to kick off this meme .

(you can click any image to enlarge it to read the spines)

SEASIDE ELEVENSES

2008-11-19T10:17:00.004Z

A crisp Autumn morning warranted a 12 mile cycle ride to the sea. The best bacon baguettes I have ever eaten can be had at a little seafront cafe in the small town of Dymchurch.

Warm and crisp with lean bacon and plenty of butter (and brown sauce, of course).

Join me sometime!

REMEMBRANCE

2008-11-04T12:24:00.016Z

Once more Remembrance Day comes around and we buy and wear our poppies with pride. This year I would like to remember a brave man, an American pilot of the Second World War.

On my cycle rides through this peaceful countryside I often stop as I pass by this shrine and there are others too. You see, Romney Marsh, being flat and close to France was the site of many airfields during that war.

A guest to our country, let's talk about Lieutenant Johnson. His memorial is known as "Johnson's Corner" and the "Stars and Stripes" flies proudly over the English countryside there every day.

.

These faded poppies from last year will soon be renewed on November 11th.
(click images to enlarge)

There is a citation, obviously written by one of his surviving aircrew. One must do justice by quoting it in full:

Lt. W. JOHNSON US 8th Army Air Force.

This Corner is named after, and the Stone erected to one of the courageous Airmen of the Second World War. He gave his life to save his crew.

Pilot Lt. W. Johnson & crew, flew from Rattlesden, Suffolk in a B17. Take off time was 4.40 am. on Friday 13th. April 1944. Their target being the Messerschmitt Factory at Augsburg, Germany.

When in formation, their position being No. 4 Lead Squadron, they crossed the English Channel, entering into enemy territory between Ostend and Dunkirk. No flak for the first 90 miles. Then! All of a sudden, there were black puffs of smoke and cracking noises, bouncing the plane about.

Lt. Whitely, co-pilot, reported No. 4 engine stopping and No. 3 not running well. Finally, with No. 3 feathered (Turning the propeller blades into the wind to stop wind milling.) they left formation and headed for home. Flying over Abbeville France at 23,000 ft. they were hit by heavy flak. No 1 & 2 engines still running, they were losing height about 500 ft. per minute.

Orders were given to Sgt. Williams (right waist gunner), to dump all loose items and start to remove the Ball Turret. All bombs were dropped. Sgt. Zeiger (left waist gunner) was to stay on intercom and help Sgt.J Higgins (radio & gunner). Sgt. P. Simpson (ball turret gunner ) and Sgt. Williams were told to release the ball turret. They nearly went with it. We were hit continuously over Abbeville. Looking down through the ball turret hole it looked like the 4th. of July. ( Independence Day.)

The plane was badly damaged. The crew suffered casualties. Lt. Nye (bombardier) had a badly damaged arm, Lt. Francher (navigator) had quite a hole in his leg, but kept them on course in spite of the pain. Lt. Whitely had a hole in his wrist.

The plane’s cables were shot out, No. 2 engine was running but not good. They crossed the channel with No. 1 engine at maximum revs. The port fuel tanks were very low and fuel could not be transferred from the starboard tanks because the electrical pump had failed and the wabble pump had been hit. When they finally left enemy territory they were at about 12,000 ft. and they were losing altitude faster now that they only had one good engine. They prepared for ditching in the Channel. Sgt. Higgins notified Air Sea Rescue. Lt. Fancher said they would see land in a few minutes. Looking down, an Air Sea Rescue boat was below them, just in case they had to bale out over water. They crossed the British Coastline near Hythe at 2,000 ft. The oil line on number 2 engine fractured and immediately caught fire. The flames came past Sgt. Zeigler’s waist gunners window. He then noticed that the horizontal stabliser was missing.

Lt. Johnson gave the order to bail out.

Lt. Johnson, Lt. Whitely and Lt. Fancher, using their skills, is the reason they all returned even though they were badly wounded. Sgt. Hazzard (engineer & gunner) did an excellent job of giving medical aid, and should have been given an award.

They started to bail out at Lympne over Romney Marsh. Sgt. Zeiger states that when his parachute opened he noticed that the main wings were very badly damaged. They looked as though a can opener had been at work. The last man out jumped at 800 ft. leaving just the Pilot, Lt. Johnson, who died when the plane crashed.

The crew were very saddened at the loss of Lt. Johnson, as they knew that he gave them priority.

Lt. Johnson was nominated for the Congressional Medal of Honor. He was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross posthumously.

WONDERFUL CLOCK!

2008-10-03T15:25:00.004+01:00

HerHimnBryn emailed this link to me. I enjoy clocks and watches (the mechanical kind) and this really floated my boat. I just had to share it with you all.

It is derived from John Harrison's wonderful clock of the 1700's (this is a long link, but the fascinating story it tells is well worth perseverence).

BICYCLE GEARS - HISTORY LESSON

2008-10-02T17:09:00.008+01:00

(apparently this "Penny-Farthing Band - German - is available for hire)

Barrett Bonden asked me about my cycle gearing in my previous posting and I said that my lowest gear was "23 inches". A non-cyclist would be justified in saying "pardon?" So I thought you might like to know the history behind this calculation.

In English speaking countries cycle gearing is usually measured in inches. You don't really need to know what these inches stand for, just that a large number makes you push harder to go faster whereas a small gear allows you to winch yourself slowly uphill.

Gear inches come from the days when geared bicycles superseded the ‘ordinary’ – now known as a penny-farthing. This had its pedals fixed directly to the front wheel and if you wanted to go faster you needed a larger one. So bicycles were rated by the diameter of this wheel. A 52inch ordinary bicycle was big and potentially fast for its time, but only a tall man could ride it.

Then the safety bicycle was invented, on which all modern bicycles are based and in which the pedals are connected to the rear wheel by a chain and gears. These make the wheel turn faster (or slower) according to the ratio of front chainwheel divided by rear sprocket. A gear ratio of 48 by 16 for example, makes the wheel turn three times for one turn of the pedals. The effect is the same as if the pedals were fixed directly to a wheel three times as big, making a 26 inch wheel equivalent to one of 78 inch diameter. Such a bicycle was said to be geared to 78 inches – that would be one heck of a tall penny-farthing!

This system may be antiquated, but referring all gearing arrangements (including hub gears) back to a simple size of directly driven wheel gives us an easy way to compare all sorts of pedal cycles.

To calculate gear size you enter the diameter (in inches - or metric people could enter it in cms) of the actual wheel, and the numbers of teeth on the front chainwheel and rear sprocket, into the following formula:
Gear = Wheel × Chainwheel ÷ Sprocket

Not a lot of people knew that! But now you do. My lowest gear (23 inches or 58 cm)would have me riding an old penny-farthing with a front wheel that size - it would be like a small child's bike!

FRIDAY RIDE

2008-09-30T14:44:00.034+01:00

(click on any image to enlarge)

The forecast was "warm with a light breeze". It was a bright September morning. Autumn fruits were in abundance

Work had been frustrating during the week so I decided a day's leisurely cycling was called for.

As a warm-up I cycled to my morning coffee break (A garden centre in the hamlet of Reading Street). Good coffee (free refills), toasted teacake and blackcurrant jam. Then a gentle freewheel down the little lane that once led to a busy landing place on the River Rother. Mediaeval sailing ships once traded here and a series of ancient, prosperous houses line the lane. This one, dreaming behind its sere fencing, was once the harbour master's house:

However, in the 17th century a great storm diverted the river's main course; the harbour had to be abandoned and all that now remains of the river here is a country stream.

After this some low gear work was called for as I cycled up an escarpment onto what was once an island. A breather was called for

The curiously named locality (village long since disappeared) derives from the Saxon "Ebun's ie" (the island owned by Ebun) . You will note my stragically placed coffee flask, for later use.

A gentle climb brings us to the summit of the "island" and the village of Wittersham

The Viking ship on the village sign reminds us that all this area was subjected to Danish raiding parties in the 9th/10th centuries.

Here I stopped to consult my map. I could see an interesting route would follow a road, then a farm track and then a bridle path going South towards Rye. The track went through the grounds of a stately home and the bridle path crossed a small river, but, what the hell, let's give it a go. So, inspired by the button badge on my saddlebag (a present from Herhimnbryn), I set off.

The road was swallowed by the gates of the statelyhome, with a notice saying "private drive". A cycle is an ideal way of traversing such a road - silence and celerity! We whisked through without disturbing His Lordship and out onto the farm track the other side. I was encouraged by the sign on the farm gate - the man must have a sense of humour

A couple of miles of rocky farm track followed and then the road petered out descending like a rabbit hole into a single pathway through the trees. This was mountain bike country, but I was tackling much worse than this on normal road lightweight bikes before they were even thought of (we called it "roughstuffing" and didn't know that you needed a special bike for it).

Eventually I broke through the trees and descended into the wide valley of the little River Tillingham, pushed the bike over a little footbridge and toiled up the other side of the valley.

(Down the hill by the finger of trees and over the footbridge by the pylon)

Let's have a look back over the vast valley - how could such a tiny river have carved it out? The answer lies some 10,000 years ago when the glaciers of our last ice age melted and mighty torrents of water roared down from the hinterland rolling rocks and debris before them.

At last, back on a firm road, I made my way through Rye's mediaeval gate into the ancient town.

It was time to take on fuel - elevenses having long been burnt up. Heavy meals don't suit me when cycling (a full stomach gets in the way when bending over dropped handlebars). So a couple of fried eggs ("easy over" for you American readers) with two slices of toast made from locally baked brown bread - plus a large pot of tea - topped me up nicely.

I crossed over the River Rother Bridge out of Rye (the following picture shows why these places are no longer ports - in a word "mud" - silt brought down in quantities for the Wealden clays)

I was now on the levels of Romney Marsh and decided to follow the cycle track which paralleled the road for some 9 miles towards the town of Lydd. At the outset of this screed I mentioned that the forecast was for "light breezes" - Hell! it was like cycling into a solid wall of air, with head wind at about 25 mph. (whilst The Marsh is pleasant cycling on calm days - no hills , it can be savagely windswept at times). This pleasant path-side scene belies the air whistling by my head at the time.

And so at last to Lydd - it's name sounds Welsh (but is Saxon). In fact it could hardly be farther from Wales, being the most southeastern town in Britain. I say town, but really a large village.

D'you see the whitewashed shop by the church? Well I decided I deserved a treat. I sat behind a church buttress, warm to my back, in the sun and out of the wind and indulged!

After that, the push for home - however there was another stop on the way - a church I had not visited before (I feel that Larkin's poem "Church Going" sort of sums my travels up beautifully)

Once I am sure there’s nothing going on
I step inside, letting the door thud shut.
Another church: matting, seats and stone,
And little books; sprawlings of flowers, cut
For Sunday, brownish now: some brass and stuff
Up at the holy end; the small neat organ;
And a tense, musty, unignorable silence,
Brewed God knows how long. Hatless, I take off
My cycle clips in awkward reverence…………..

This is the church of St Mary the Virgin in the aptly named Marsh village of St Mary-in-the-Marsh

I'm glad I went in - for those of us who have a "handkerchief moment" at the "Daddy, my Daddy" scene in the film "The Railway Children" it will have special significance - the author Edith M Nesbit lived happily in the village with her second husband, "The Skipper" and is buried here. She required that no stone be erected on her grave so her husband carved a wooden marker over it - it is under the oak tree to the right of the churchyard.

Looking at the map, the direct route home would have brought me up to about 45 miles. "Why not make it the round 50?", I thought. So I braved the wind and put in a loop which had me finishing my flask of coffee, sitting in the late afternoon sun at my favourite stopping place.

And the final mileage? - 51.6 (82 km for those of you with a less "Imperial" bent!) and in spite of the wind a very pleasant day (would you believe that the following day there was not a breath of air - sod's law!)

A DAY OUT

2008-09-21T17:19:00.006+01:00

A balmy Autumn day meandering among the hedgerowed lanes of the Kentish Weald with members of the Veteran-Cycle Club - about a 25 mile circle with the village of Headcorn at its centre. 18 out - riding up and down the column chatting to various about various. Lunch at a 16th century country inn. Cakes and coffee at the end, watching vintage aircraft doing stunts at a country airfield. "Jus perfick" (as a local character would have it).

We stopped on the way for a group photo - the road name seemed appropriate!

(click to enlarge)

Introducing Benjy

2008-09-11T18:04:00.006+01:00

There was an unusual guest on the recent Veteran-Cycle Club run (a gentle day cruising the lanes of Romney Marsh, with lunch in the ancient town of Rye - 25 leisurely miles, riding the recently acquired Rudge.)

His name is Benjy and apparently he rides everywhere with his mistress. Needless to say he was a very popular addition to the group (about 25). He was quite happy on the back and settled down for a snooze whilst we all had lunch.

And John Head's beloved old Rudge ? - it cruised as serenely and majestically as a bishop walking up the aisle of a cathedral.

APOLOGIES FOR ABSENCE

2008-09-04T17:40:00.003+01:00

Have not blogged recently (although I have accessed many of yours).

Reason? My PC crashed catastrophically and since I was on Windows 2000 and the PC was as old as that I decided the time was ripe to get a new one.

So arrived home with a large box and multi-layer packing, from which I delved the new, matt black PC - there is no joy in any of this - it is just as much a tool to me as a bicycle pump.

So I now have the joy(?) of Vista (am I a masochist?). My scanner would not work on it, HP did not have a new driver and more or less told me to get a new scanner (or get stuffed) - so I did, but you bet it was not a Hewlitt Packard. My Canon printer worked with a readily available new driver, so it was a Canon scanner I bought.

Most of my programs seemed to load OK - I have even managed to get Office 97 Professional to work in Vista (which the PC shop said was impossible and "could they sell me the latest Office Suite".)

So.......having been staring, with frustration at a screen and frantic (and expensive) telephone calls to help lines , I have been heartily sick of PCs and the internet.

I did ask myself if I could manage without a PC, but decided not (although I managed to get through life for the previous 50 or so years without).

So..........that is the reason for absence - my sense of humour is gradually returning.

TOMBSTONE

2008-07-28T16:50:00.004+01:00

During a gentle cycling day with the Veteran-Cycle Club (which will be posted up later), we chanced to stop at the 13th century church at Brookland. I just had to share with you this gravestone in the floor of the nave.

What a magnificent name - they don't write 'em like that any more! I see that his wife, Ann, only outlasted him by a month (who says you cannot die of a broken heart?)

COMMERCIAL BREAK

2008-06-20T16:27:00.003+01:00

That "HerhimnBryn" at Secret Hill Mosaics says she is going through a creative block at present.

Mosaics are not currently inspiring her, so it would appear that she decided to set up another sort of blog to keep that creative mind of hers from rusting. Even at the age of two she was intent on creating a "stone and water feature", by blocking our back-yard drainpipe with pebbles! (sorry H!)

I just mention this in case others would like to follow me there (and also because I feel a certain parental duty - and pride!)

LEONARD COHEN

2008-06-19T16:21:00.002+01:00

To all lovers of the sublime Leonard:

Can I recommend a visit to the blog of "riseoutofme" see also this link for background.

MARMITE RICE CAKES

2008-06-14T10:42:00.003+01:00

I don't know how long these have been around, Marmite Lovers, but I have just found them and they are absolutely delicious - particularly with a dab of creamy Irish Butter.

We have started buying Irish butter as from today in thanks for that great country saying "No" in their referendum to the scandalous proposed EU Constitution. This country is not being allowed a referendum on the subject in spite of this government's promise in their election manifesto to hold one. I will be toasting the Irish in Guinness today!

(Interestingly, the Irish language does not contain a word for "No" - instead it uses the phrase "it isn't")

THE GYPSY LIFE

2008-05-31T20:07:00.004+01:00

It's time to put the old horse between the shafts (figuratively speaking) and trot off with the caravan again. (Although I guess that a real horse might be a lot more economical than a car with the way fuel prices are going).

A couple of weeks way down West are planned. First to our beloved and nostalgic Cornwall. We return to a little farm site just south of Launceston most years. It is centrally located for the coast and the moors.

Then stopping over for a week in Dorset on the way back (near Cerne Abbas, with its ancient, priapic hill figure).

The weather forecast is not too good (my neighbour says he always knows when wet weather is going to set in - it is when we go on holiday!) Still - we take it as it comes.

Catch y'all later.

RUDGE "SUPERBE"

2008-05-21T10:02:00.022+01:00

In 1961 John Head wanted a bicycle to cycle across London to his job at the Bank of England. In view of the prestige of his employment he decided that it must be a "gentlemanly" machine in keeping with his dignity. Accordingly, he did his research and decided that the "Rudge Superbe" fitted the bill. Rudge cycles were by now part of the Raleigh cycle empire. He bought the deep red bicycle from a little south west London cycle agent:

Over the years the cycle carried him to and from work. He had children, joined the Cyclists' Touring Club and, eventually the Veteran-Cycle Club (having acquired a variety of machines over the years). But the Rudge was always his favourite bicycle and even though it was a "gentlemanly machine" he used it at cycle camps and rallies.

We now fast-forward to 2008. John is now 82. He always vowed to keep on riding his Rudge, but has reached the stage where he can no longer lift his leg over the cross-bar. To keep on riding (he has my respect) he bought a modern, open-framed bike. The Rudge was oiled up and stored, but he felt it a shame that it was no longer used and (reluctantly) advertised it for sale in the Veteran-Cycle Club's magazine for £100 (a satisfactory mark-up as it cost £28 in 1961).

This is where I come in. I saw the advert, then forgot it. 3 weeks later I re-read it, thought I would give him a ring, although I guessed it would have been sold. But no, he "had been mucked about" and it was still there. So I made the trip to West London and spent a morning with John and his wife (his reminiscenses were worth £50 alone!) and paid the full price for his beautiful, original and much loved machine. Here he proudly displays it on the day of sale:

Having taken it home and introduced it to my own bicycles, you see it here in detail

The saddle is a magnificently comfortable Brooks "B66" with large insulating springs

The chaincase protects the drive and means that one can ride it without resorting to trouser clips, or tucking them in your socks to avoid oil stains

Lighting is provided by the still working Sturmey-Archer hub dynamo set in stainless steel wheel rims and the magnificently chromed head lamp. Gearing (very low) is by Sturmey-Archer 3 speed in the rear hub.

The bell gives out a sonorous "ding-dong", befitting the bicycle's dignity, whilst the stand enables it to stand alone (nothing so common as leaning it against a wall!)

Fortunately your average bicycle thief would not give the bike a second glance (they only seem to pinch mountain bikes) - however the Rudge comes with a built in fork lock (John even supplied the two original keys)

The Rudge is a nice ride. Unlike my "head down, arse up" drop handlebarred bikes, it will not be hurried. As befits a "gentleman's bicycle" one sits high in the saddle, looking over the scenery whilst cruising serenely along. On the flat it will allow itself to run at about 12 mph. Middle gear takes care of head winds and slight rises, whilst I am astounded how the low bottom gear allows one to ride up almost any hill. One almost feels that a collar and tie should be worn when riding it!

I use it frequently to do the 3 miles into town and it will get its first run out (under my ownership) with the Veteran-Cycle Club in July. Appropriately it will be a local ride - "A Marsh Meander" over Romney Marsh, ending up for fish and chips at a cafe in the ancient town of Rye.

BLUEBELLS (for HHnB)

2008-04-29T09:01:00.008+01:00

HHnB writes about her childhood memories of Bluebells, so I thought that I would give her a treat and publish a few photos just taken in the wood over the way from here.

Anne Bronte's poem on the subject seems particularly apposite:

"There is a silent eloquence
In every wild bluebell
That fills my softened heart with bliss
That words could never tell "

and is worth reading in full, H

Anne Bronte's sister Emily, also wrote a poem on the same subject, but I prefer Anne's.

Of course, the dog, Sabre, had to get in on the photoshoot. Some children had left a rope swing which he decided was worth playing with. He is 11 (77 in human years) but still thinks he can act like a kid (a bit like the bloke he lives with, I suppose!)

COFFEE, CAKE AND THINGS

2008-04-17T17:18:00.014+01:00

(click on any image to enlarge)

A couple of streets away lives a feisty 87 year old lady, a widow who is fiercely independent but has come to know me, through my wife. She has had a interesting life - who would think to see this upright, beautifully dressed, silver haired woman that she was a Sergeant in the Woman's Royal Army Corps in World War II and commanded men manning an anti-aircraft battery which shot down a number of German bombers. On Remembrance Day each year she proudly wears her military beret with badge and her medals on her chest. (Aspects of this poem come to mind).

She sometimes asks me to do the odd "handyman job" which she cannot manage (she is proud of the large box of her late husband's tools - she always tells me she has the tools for the job!). She is an excellent cook and I usually get a "quid pro quo" in the form of cake. Her new fridge has arrived - the door was on the wrong side, so she asked if I could change it - job done.

Two days later my wife arrived home with a plastic box containing half a delicious jam sponge from her. I felt that the gift needed proper appreciation - the day was warm and springlike and a cycle ride beckoned. Cake and a flask of coffee were packed and off I pedalled to spend a leisurely couple of hours adrift amongst the lanes - the target being one of my favourite stops - St Rumwold's Church.

A convenient seat in the sun presents itself and I settle down to do the jam sponge justice.

(To enhance the meal the coffee was how I like it - laced with brandy!)

Sitting and musing in the sun I was kept company by my (very) old companion here - James Jordan, who sleeps beside my seat.

Let's have a look at his stone - it is written in archaic manner with the internal " s " written like an " f ". To save you enlarging the image it reads:
"Here lieth James Jordan
late of this Parifh, Yeoman
He died May ye 9th 1745
Aged 68 Years.
And alfo Seven Children
Four by Mary his firft Wife
One by Ann his second
And two by Elizabeth his Third"
A busy man who deserves his long, long rest!

But - where are my manners! I have brought you all the way down here and forced you to look on whilst I indulged - yet I have not shown you around the church. Let's go to the main door. Its woodwork was cut from Kentish oak trees 700 years ago

Regular readers of my blog will remember my love and affinity with wrought iron so it is a delight to put one's hand into the door's latch-ring

And so we enter this, probably the oldest church on Romney Marsh, dating back to Saxon times (c.800 AD). A tiny, scintillating gem of a building whether you have a religion or no.

You will notice the proliferation of candles - these are very necessary since the church has no electricity. This is a real delight at the yearly Christmas carol service with the holly and ivy glinting with the brasswork in the winking candlelight - the music being provided by a string ensemble in the ancient gallery at the back, as in times past.

Thanks for joining my serendipity - just look where opening a fridge door has led us! (shades of Narnia!)

SECRET HILL (HHnB)

2008-03-27T15:53:00.002Z

Those who have not been to "Secret Hill" recently will not know that she has done a bunk and set herself up with a new blog address.
If you want to catch up with her go to:
www.secrethillmosaics.blogspot.com/
(Commission please, Duchess!)

ROMAN SHIELDS AGAIN!

2008-03-21T16:14:00.018Z

(Click on any image to enlarge)

This time last year I was involved in making a pair of Roman Cavalry Shields . Trouble is, I did too good a job of it and the Society has asked me to paint 6 Auxiliary Infantry Shields for use this year. The design is copied from one shown on Trajan's Column.
A pleasant enough job, painting in a warm dining room (I have an understanding wife) whilst the wind and rain beat against the windows. Now I have finished my part and the shields move on to have the bronze edging (to guard against sword cuts) and the centre bosses fitted.

Here is a finished one in close up. The unit represented is named in the "ansate" at the top (The small rectangular blue label with "ears" which is a feature of Roman inscriptions). It is the First Cohort of Tungrians , troops drawn from what is now modern Belgium - they were once stationed on Hadrian's Wall in the first century AD. The laurel leaves have obvious meaning. The two crescent moons relate to the veneration of Cybele, the Magna Mater or Great Mother.

All done for love and interest, unfortunately. Checking armour makers on the internet shows that such as these go for at least £150 each!

This link will explain how the Auxilia fits into the Roman Army - if you have time to wade through it. But briefly they were locals recruited from outside of Italy, not Roman citizens. (A bit like the native troops recruited by the British Empire). They never served in their own countries, for obvious reasons and were only paid a third of Legionary pay. The bonus was that they were awarded Roman citizenship after their 25 years service - a big deal in those times.

Here is a painting by Society member Graham Sumner of an Auxiliary (Society member Adrian Cook) , using a shield of similar pattern but different colouring.

TAG TIME!

2008-03-11T18:48:00.004Z

That Lucy has tagged me!

1. Pick up the book you are reading, or else the nearest book (of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences

That seems quite an easy and interesting meme, so here goes:

" To my Lord's, where we find him newly come from Hinchingbrooke, where he left my uncle very well, but my aunt not likely to live. I stayed and dined with him. He took me aside and asked me what the world spoke of the King's marriage."

Name of the book? That should be a pretty easy one, I think!

(I shall pass this one when I have a bit more time)

SECRET HILL (HerhimnBryn)

2008-02-18T19:46:00.002Z

Yes - I know she says she has stopped blogging, but she has put another (I will not say "last") entry on her site to show us the completed studio. "Just perfick" as Pop Larkin would have said!

ON A BLOWING DAY

2008-02-05T16:12:00.000Z

(click to enlarge)

Well - that's a first! (especially for HHnB!) No-one managed to locate the quote in my "Kipling's Remedy" post. It comes from "Juggling Jerry" by George Meredith (the poet of Box Hill). Here is the verse from the poem:

Yonder came smells of the gorse, so nutty,
Gold-like and warm: it's the prime of May.
Better than mortar, brick and putty
Is God's house on a blowing day.

Obscure poem by an unfashionable poet. But when, as a schoolboy in 1954, I saved up and bought my first lightweight bicycle frame those two lines were written above the frame builder's message in his catalogue. Then and now in summed it all up, really.

MARMITE (again)

2008-02-02T17:45:00.001Z

So, they've done it again!
( see my previous posting:
http://little-corner-of-the-earth.blogspot.com/2007_02_01_archive.html)
Marmite lovers, you can now get, for a limited period, "Champagne Marmite" for Valentine's Day.

KIPLING'S REMEDY

2008-01-20T16:30:00.000Z

Well - my last post shows that I have spent a good deal of time reading. Naturally I gravitated to one of my favourite poets, Rudyard Kipling. As usual, he has a word for the occasion - and this one was the following (bearing in mind my last miserable posting):

"The cure for this ill is not to sit still

And frowst with a book by the fire.

But take a large hoe and a shovel also

And dig 'til you gently perspire"

The hoe and shovel did not inspire so I very reluctantly dragged the bicycle from the garage and set out against a 40 mile per hour westerly wind across country. The sky was heavy, overcast with scudding grey clouds, but no rain.

As I rode down towards the Marsh the sun succeeded in giving a brief flash of light, which I managed to take advantage of for a picture:

Then it disappeared as quickly as it came and I slogged some 10 miles across the bleak flats against the wind to a remote garden centre with a good cafe. Warmth and calm. Toasted, buttered teacake and good coffee.

Then back on the bike and making the turn towards home resulted in the wind now being behind me. Exhilaration! The bike flew with the utter silence of no air past the ears, reminding me of Masefield's lines from "The Everlasting Mercy":

"Along a dim road, on and on,

Knowing again the bursting glows

The mating hare in April knows.

Who tingles to the pads with mirth

At being the swiftest thing on earth."

I took a lane where I know the first primroses bloom in Spring - usually in late February. My reward for making the effort today was the sight, sheltered from wind and frosts and facing any sun, of the first, solitary clump of the year - in January, no less!

I got home tired and tingling after some 25 miles of blowing weather, ("Better than mortar, brick and putty / Is God's house on a blowing day" - origin of quote, anyone?) the "Black Dog" having been lost on the way somewhere (he has not caught up with me again yet!)

Thanks Kipling - just the right medicine.

THAT TIME OF THE YEAR

2008-01-10T17:46:00.001Z

Yes, folks - it's that time of the year again. Cold, wet and miserable. Dark in the morning until about 8.00 am and then an overcast flat grey sky all day, with lights on again from about 3.30pm.

Don't want to get up in the morning, don't want to start any projects. Drink and eat too much sweet stuff (cakes, sweets and biscuits), sit around reading (Larkin's "Aubade" suits the mood!) and putting on weight.

A few crisp, sunny, frosty days would be nice - but warm Spring mornings, birds singing and primroses in bloom would be better!

They dress it up and call it SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder). But I think we still have the primeval instinct to curl up, warm and comfortable and sleep it out!

So, maybe a short rest from blogging whilst I hibernate - although when I wake up now and again I shall creep out of the cave and feed on your blogs (especially those from the warmer areas of the Earth!)

'Night, 'night.

CHRISTMAS

2007-12-17T10:19:00.000Z

A view over the fields to our 13th century village church (click to enlarge)

The Oxen

Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.
"Now they are all on their knees,"
An elder said as we sat in a flock
By the embers in hearthside ease.

We pictured the meek mild creatures where
They dwelt in their strawy pen,
Nor did it occur to one of us there
To doubt they were kneeling then.

So fair a fancy few would weave
In these years!(1) Yet, I feel,
If someone said on Christmas Eve,
"Come; see the oxen kneel

"In the lonely barton(2) by yonder coomb(3)
Our childhood used to know,"
I should go with him in the gloom,
Hoping it might be so.

Thomas Hardy

(1) This poem was written in 1915

(2) A farmstead

(3) A valley

I have recently read Claire Tomalin's excellent biography of Hardy, which has prompted me to read all his wonderful poems again. This one cleverly parallels the Christmas story (The oxen, the stable, the shepherds sitting around the fire) without actually mentioning it. It also, for me at least, encapsulates Hardy's Wessex - the folk tale told around the fire by the old men of the village whilst watching their sheep. The last line goes to the heart of Hardy's agnosticism and emphasises his hope and essential spirituality.

This Friday, 21st December our family and friends gather here to enjoy our annual "Scrooge Night". Mulled wine, brandy, mince pies and cream - whilst watching that best of all Christmas films "Scrooge", with the inimitable Alistair Sim. ( There is a "Daddy, my Daddy" moment, when he asks the forgiveness of his nephew's wife in the last scenes!)

And so, "God bless us, everyone" as Tiny Tim exclaimed

A VERY HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL!

MOTORCYCLES

2007-12-02T14:44:00.001Z

This post is for Vita really since she is convalescing!

The time has come for me to re-arrange the motor cycle fleet.

(click to enlarge)

The 1982 BMW (on right) has been with me for 22 years now and it would be like losing a leg to get rid of that - that will be around until I can no longer get my leg over (so to speak).

Of the two "trailies" I sold the XL125 Honda (centre) after buying the Honda XL185 (left) from an old friend who had had it since new.
Two things decided me to sell the one on the left too:

1. Recent legislation in this overcrowded island is killing off the use of "off road" vehicles over our ancient track ways . I count myself lucky to have had their enjoyment for over 40 years.
2. Approaching the age of 69 I ask myself if I should still be bucking, jumping and slip-sliding alone along these ways. (Know thyself).

So one aspect of my motorcycling life ends, but one has to compensate. Thus a new baby joins the BMW in the garage.

This is a 1978 Honda 400 four cylinder with only 18,000 miles under its wheels, for me to enjoy as a light, nippy and manoeuvrable machine for country lane bend swinging. I had one of these machines back in 1977 and have always hankered for another. They took Britain by storm, but were never popular in the States for some reason, so Honda killed them off after 4 years in 1979. (They are reputed to have lost money on every one they sold!). The way the four exhaust pipes swing down together still stands as some of the finest chrome-work ever seen on a motorcycle, many feeling that the design would not look out of place as furniture or pure art.
However inflation has meant that for the one I bought in 1977 for £700, I have now had to pay £2,000 for the "new" one. (I kid myself that the sale of the two trail bikes almost equals the cost of this one!)
Motorcyclists reading all this will understand that I am not particularly enamoured of today's modern "plastic rockets", posing as motorcycles!

HUMOUR OF THE TRENCHES

2007-11-12T11:01:00.000Z

It is the (often cynical) humour of the British "Tommy" that sees him through. I found this in a book I am currently reading ( "Gone for a Soldier, A History of Life in the British Ranks") and thought it might lighten the mood after my last post.

And nothing changes!

As it was (60 AD)

And is now (2007AD)

REMEMBRANCE

2007-11-10T14:16:00.000Z

November 11th.

Dulce Et Decorum Est

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.--
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

Wilfred Owen
Owen was known as "The Soldiers' Poet" - he told it like it was, without the "Tunes of Glory" and knew the disgust, fright and filth of war.
(A commentary on this poem and on the poet can be read by clicking on his name above.)

A DAY OUT

2007-10-08T17:06:00.002+01:00

(click any photo to enlarge)

And so the day came to take the newly refurbished Raleigh Record Ace for its first outing to a meeting of the Veteran-Cycle Club. A lovelyAutumn day, with a "Misty, Moisty, Morning" and spiders' webs glittering on the hedgerows.

I rode to the meeting place, a little country airfield about 12 miles distant along quiet Kentish lanes hedged with ripe blackberries. The field is a well-known meeting place and there was the added treat of seeing a get-to-gether of the Motor Assisted Cycle Club and the start of a run of the Vintage Sports Car Club (superb vehicles from the 1920/30s.

A variety of cycles of all ages arrived - most brought along in cars to the start:

This is an 1897 American Victor. The guy (Victor, would you believe) had bought it at an auction the day before (he refused to tell us how much he paid for it!) and this was its first run out. The wheel rims are made from maple wood and must not be subjected to extremes of temperature or they buckle.

Here is another - a mid 1930's BSA "Trichrome Special". A vast machine ridden by a bloke about 6 foot 5 inches (Veterans don't do metric!). He stuck up like a lighthouse as he rode amongst the group.

So eventually a group of some 28 riders on machines of various ages assembled

Having admired each other's mounts we set off through the narrow, traffic-free lanes of the Kentish Weald, a leisurely ride, moving up and down the column to chat to different people and now and again stopping to allow the slower, older bicycles to catch up.

For the "non-English" amongst my friends the curious buildings in the background are "Oast Houses", originally used for drying hops, used in beer making and now turned into desirable country houses.

Eventually, after a delightful meander of some 12 miles we arrived at the country pub where lunch had been booked. The super weather meant that meals could be taken outside in the garden and this was another chance to chat to others and admire the bikes

I gravitated towards one old chap (extreme left of the second lunch pic.) who had an earlier model of my machine. He said he did not ride as much as he used to, but always made the point of riding a little every day, whatever the weather - it "kept him in trim" - He was 87!!

After a magnificent Ploughman's Lunch and some good Kentish Ale we gradually assembled by common consent and set off by another route back to the airfield. Only one puncture on one of the trikes (3 wheeler racing cycles, the riders of which are known as "barrow boys") stayed our passage. We sat on the grass and chatted, offering sage advice whilst it was mended.

Arriving back we congregated at the little airfield's cafe, sitting in the sun with cakes and tea, listening to the drone of the prop planes taking off and watching the parachutists enjoying themselves (each to their own, I suppose, but you would not get me stepping into space from 5,000 feet).

Goodbyes said, I cycled the 12 miles home through the autumn-tinted lanes, the sun on my back. A leisurely day of some 48 miles overall in good company, in lovely scenery. A "green" day - no petrol used (by me, at least), no carbon footprint left behind. So simple, so completely satisfying.

Oh...and my Raleigh Record Ace? Admired and coveted by most. But in such groups there is always one "rivet counter". Ours took pains to tell me that the bolt holding the handlebar stem should have a slotted head, not Allen key type! (It made him happy).

STONE ARTIFACTS

2007-09-14T14:28:00.000+01:00

(Click any image to enlarge)

Many years ago I came across this photograph of a prehistoric Egyptian flint knife. It fascinated me. Yes, the carved ivory handle was exquisite, but it was the finely knapped blade which really held my attention. It is like the ripples of the sand on a sea shore - each groove carefully knapped by "pressure flaking". This I have since learnt - I originally thought that you just struck the flint with another to get the shape. We tend to think of "Stone Age" man as primitive, but within the limits of what they had to work with they were more artistic than most modern humans.

Anyway, because of this picture, flint tools have always engaged me - I once spent 3 hours at a historical re-enactment event sitting in full Roman armour watching a craftsman turn a lump of flint into a beautiful arrowhead. An interesting website on the subject can be seen here (view with sound on to hear a prehistoric instrument played).
My daughter knows my love of stone artifacts and told her friend Helen about it - this very relevant as you will see if you visit Helen's blog. Helen and partner Glenn spend their working lives prospecting, mining and working Australian gemstones, minerals and fossils and exhibit at craft fairs in Oz and the USA each year.

This year Helen saw an exhibition of stone knives, thought of me and asked if I would like her to buy one for me.

The result is this beautiful knife, 24 cm long and crafted from Mookaite a silicified siltstone from Mooka Creek, about 100 miles inland from Carnarvon, Western Australia. It arrived back here in England via my son after his travels to Oz. Stone from Australia, made into a knife which was bought in America, taken back to Oz and then flown to England - much travelled!
So - after seeing that picture of the Egyptian knife all those years ago, I now have this wonderfully tactile artifact of my very own. The veins in the stone are lovely and the edge would easily draw blood. Thank you for thinking of me, Helen (and if you read this - what is the wood stem that the handle is made from, please?)

RALEIGH RECORD ACE RESURGAM!

2007-08-26T17:09:00.003+01:00

(click on any image to enlarge)

Well it took a while and some cash outlay, but the finished article is well worth it. My 60 year old (owned by me for 50) Raleigh Record Ace has now been fully restored, as you see here. It originally looked like this and then this as I began the work.
I painted it myself, but the transfers for the frame had to be specially made (and cost me £50!).
The bag is a replica of a 1950's item.

The chain-set is a 1950's Williams which I picked up in the "jumble-box" at a cycle museum in Cornwall, whilst on holiday (a bargain - £5)

The rear wheel contains an original pattern Sturmey Archer 4 speed gear, reconditioned and then built into a wheel by a retired cycle shop owner (another £120 I'm afraid!)

I took it for its first ride across Romney Marsh today and it behaved like the perfect gentleman it is. It was interesting to get used to the hub gear after so many years of riding with a multi-gear derailleur, but all worked smoothly and I only walked one hill. (I even saw a pair of swans with their 8 cygnets).

It will get its first airing at a Veteran-Cycle Club meet at the end of September, when the "experts" will survey it with critical eyes to ensure that all is "in period" (no worries there).

Who's a happy bunny, then?

NEA'S BLOG - UPDATE

2007-08-26T16:12:00.000+01:00

Friends of Nea - she is up and running again. (at least in blog form). New site is called "The Front Porch"

HENRY V

2007-08-22T17:27:00.000+01:00

Saw in a newpaper article recently that they had taken the old 1944 film of Shakespeare's "Henry V" and painstakingly restored and recoloured it to its original quality. It is now going the rounds of British Cinemas, either "art house" or special "classic evenings". The latter occasion arrived at our local cinema yesterday so we (wife and I) went along.

Vast queues outside and in the multiplex had us confused - surely Shakespeare was not THAT popular in our provincial town? This was resolved once inside - the "Bourne Conspiracy" was also showing!

As it was, our "screen" only contained about 30 people - we sat at the back and looked over the grey and bald heads (we felt at home). However a group of 6 girls, about 17, came in and sat in front of us. They were in rapt attention, gazing adoringly at Larry Olivier and laughing in all the right places at the Shakespearian "jokes". It was lovely to see and I imagine it must be their subject in this year's sixth form. So it will not die with our generation and that's encouraging!

Although I have heard and read it so often, I still sat with a catch in my throat, with tears streaming down my cheeks as Olivier proclaimed the "St. Crispin's Day" speech.

A great evening. The re-mastering has produced a vibrancy of colour that has been missing for 50-odd years. Worth seeing again if it comes your way. A pity that Olivier's dedication is now missing - it was so appropriate to the time of the film (1944) - but times move on, I suppose.

For the Texans amongst you.

2007-08-14T19:02:00.000+01:00

A man in Topeka, Kansas, decided to write a book about churches around the country. He started by flying to San Francisco, and started working east from there. Going to a very large church, he began taking photographs and making notes. He spotted a golden telephone on the vestibule wall, and was intrigued with a sign that read, "$10,000 per minute."

Seeking out the pastor, he asked about the phone and the sign. The pastor answered that the golden phone is, in fact, a direct line to Heaven, and if he pays the price, he can talk directly to God.

The man thanked the pastor and continued on his way. As he continued to visit churches in Seattle, Salt Lake City, Denver, Chicago, Milwaukee, and around the United States, he found more such phones, with the same sign, and the same explanation from each pastor.

Finally, the man arrived in the great state of Texas. Upon entering a church, behold: he saw the usual golden telephone. But THIS time, the sign read: "Calls: 25 cents"!? Fascinated, the man asked to speak with the pastor.

"Reverend, I have been in cities all across the country and in each church I have found this golden telephone, and have been told it is a direct line to Heaven, and that I could use it to talk to God.... But in 20 other churches, the cost was $10,000 per minute. Your sign says 25 cents per call.....Why is that?

The pastor, smiling benignly, replied: "Son, you're in Texas now! and it's a local call."

NEA (The Southern View)

2007-08-14T17:47:00.000+01:00

Nea - if you see this - your blog site has been taken over by hordes of "spam"!

BLACK MARIGOLDS

2007-08-02T17:58:00.000+01:00

A couple of weeks ago a chance mention in Lucy's blog about a flower called a "Nenuphar" opened up memories of only once before reading this word, in a poem that had a deep effect on me some 50 years ago. "Black Marigolds" - a free interpretation of the Chaurapanchasika, by E. Powys Mathers. It can be read in full here.

I first read the poem in a school library book when I was 17. I copied it out at that time and then, a couple of years later, whilst feeling bored in the army during office duties, I typed it all (and still have that ancient copy clunked out on an old Imperial typewriter on foolscap paper).

As a result of Lucy's blog I looked it up on the internet and found it was currently in print - so at last I have a copy of this most exquisite love lament in a "proper" book.

To end, I quote from Tony Harrison's introduction to the book:
"And the Black Marigolds of Edward Powys Mathers is a masterpiece that still affects me in the same way, even now, after almost 50 years. Perhaps even more with the "gala day" ever nearer. Even now!" (the italics will become evident on reading the work).

So thank you, Lucy, for re-awakening a long forgotten memory with such a satisfactory result.

NEW KID ON THE BLOCK

2007-07-30T18:28:00.000+01:00

With second son and family away in Oz with his sister we are left holding one of the babies. These photos are of Toby, the Bassett Hound who has come to live with us for the duration. He seems completely unconcerned about his change of abode, (sorry, folks - he just ain't missing you one bit) jumping on my German Shepherd, Sabre in play (and being rebuffed when "top dog" has had enough). I have never seen a dog get down a plate of food so fast! He has already decided which chair is "his" (and we have covered it with a blanket - looking at his dew-laps you can see why!)

HOME AGAIN

2007-07-20T12:39:00.001+01:00

Well, that was a nice break. Thank you for all your good wishes. We did everything mentioned in the last post and managed to dodge the rainy days (or visit interesting houses, or read and drink booze in the caravan!).

No, HHnB, we did not walk along to Trebarwith, but did the Rocky Va l ley walk and nearly lost the dog. He decided to go into the stream at the bridge (see link), but was then swept down into the narrow, steep cleft by the torrent (had a lot of rain). He ended up in a whirlpool area and could not get back because of the current and rock cliffs either side too steep for him to get out. He is getting on and his back hips are going (bit like the bloke he lives with) so he did not have a lot of purchase. Anyway, I was about to strip off and go in after him when he finally managed it. Tired, frightened, chastened and very bedraggled!

After that we decided we deserved a large cream tea!

TRY AGAIN!

2007-07-01T11:39:00.000+01:00

Well - the last holiday was a bit of a disaster - so let's hope our up and coming one next week proves better!

Off with the caravan again. This time down to Wales where we will meet up with my Roman Group for a couple of days at the town of Caerleon. This is probably my favourite venue (after Hadrian's Wall of course). We shall be displaying in the original Roman Amphitheatre and it is quite a buzz, marching into that space, with perhaps 3,000 people sitting around the walls watching us, just as they did nearly 2,000 years ago. There is a feeling of history, time gone and a time warp which can send shivers down the spine.

It is also The Ermine Street Guard's 35th Anniversary so the Museum authorities are hosting a celebratory bash for us on the Saturday evening. All good stuff.

While all this is going on my wife intends to pop off and visit her Welsh relatives nearby. Time will not stand still for her, I guess, knowing how Welsh women can talk when they get together!

Job over, we move on to Cornwall/Devon for the rest of the holiday (lovely counties). Where we will stop at a small, farm site central for all our favourite places. (Tintagel, Bodmin Moor, Dartmoor and Exmoor) (Remember them, HHnB?) Eating cream teas (Devon teas to you Aussies, but with real, thick yellow clotted cream) in Boscastle and "Tiddy Oggies" overlooking the sea at Tintagel is definitely on the list.

This should have been our third 'van holiday away this year, but owing to previous circumstances one was cancelled and one aborted quarter-way. This time it had better be good!

GETTING BETTER!

2007-06-19T11:43:00.000+01:00

(click on any image to enlarge)

Well, I am (very) pleased to find that the medication works and I am feeling myself again (as they say - apparently it is quite legal as long as you don't frighten the horses). Sunday morning's weather was delightful and a gentle 12 mile cycle ride around the locality beckoned.

The Raleigh Record Ace is still undergoing restoration, but is coming along nicely, thank you. So it was the modern Dawes Horizon that was led from the stables. Rather in the mode of a Japanese car, this is efficient, easy to ride, well equipped and.... completely characterless! I bought it on early retirement and it is the first complete new bike I have ever had, previously buying a frame of choice and kitting it out to preference. (You will note the convenient holder for the coffee flask - an essential addition) .

So it was off down the path leading from the estate, at present framed by clouds of blackberry blossom and English wild roses

It is a pleasant start to a ride, going across the fields with views to the local church

Then off through the lanes until we reached the escarpment above Romney Marsh, which laybeneath me, blue and inviting in the sunshine

Through the little village of Bilsington, known for its obelisk, dedicated to a local 18th century landowner who died in a coaching accident

Then a glorious swoop down the hill leading to the levels of The Marsh

However "et in Arcadia ego" Badgers hit by cars seemingly increase. They are surprisingly big animals (larger than a fox) and can grow to a metre in length.

Although tempted, I did not want to overdo things just yet. So a gentle ride through the lanes brought me towards the little Marsh church of St. Rumwold - who must be one of the strangest and unbelievable saints in that pantheon of odd characters (see link).

It is a very pleasant spot for a coffee break, with a memorial seat set against its south facing wall. One can relax in the sun, overlooking the Marsh and the Royal Military Canal (the history of which is interesting reading on the link)

And so home up the escarpment, (no, I did not get off and walk!) resisting the temptations on the notice board outside "The Good Intent" on the way!.

SIR EDWARD ELGAR

2007-06-03T16:25:00.000+01:00

(click image to enlarge and read text )

This is a note to register the 150th anniversary of the birth of Sir Edward Elgar one of England's greatest composers. He was also a keen cyclist, riding the renowned "Sunbeam" bicycles, although his preferred clothing must have been most uncomfortable on a hot day! He called all his cycles "Mr Phoebus".

T.E. Lawrence (of Arabia - aka, T.E. Shaw)) was a connoisseur of Elgar's music, as a letter from him to the composer amply illustrates. Many must be aware of his "Enigma Variations", but his "Cello Concerto" should be more widely known. It is a lament for the lost world of pre 1914, destroyed by the First World War.

(I am indebted to Bob Cordon-Champ's book "Sunbeam Bicycles and Motorcycles" for the image.)

RALEIGH RECORD ACE

2007-05-31T16:47:00.002+01:00

(click image to enlarge)

Since I at present need to be within easy reach of a loo (see previous post) I thought it a good time to refurbish my beloved 60 year old RALEIGH RECORD ACE.

It left the factory in 1947, I gave it a full recondition 30 years later in 1977, so now, yet another 30 years on is a good time for another go.

The picture shows the frame stripped down, paint rubbed down, odd rust spots rust proofed and primed with aluminium primer.

Over this weekend I intend to repaint it (black - of course, with gold lining). I have managed to obtain a set of authentic frame transfers. I also have on hand for it a replica 1950's saddle bag.

Although modern bikes (of which I have two) seem to all come with derailleur gears this one would have been originally equipped with the famed Sturmey Archer 4 speed hub gear. This is an opportunity to make it more authentic and I have found a vintage bike specialist who is making me up a wheel with such a hub gear.

I shall post a pic on completion of the project.

(Well - it's one way of getting a positive result from an enforced illness!)

CHANGE OF PLANS!

2007-05-29T10:00:00.000+01:00

Einstein said "If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans".

That would certainly apply to the holiday! I had a few symptoms before we left, but once away these became more virulent. Did manage to do some motoring around North Yorkshire for a few days, but then had to come home, missing out on the Roman job (the weather for which was apparently abominable, so thankful for small mercies).

After gruesome examinations I have been told I have contracted "Proctitis" - (No - I had never heard of it either, but if you want the gory details they are here.) It was probably a reaction to an injection I had a while ago to combat prostate cancer.

Anyway, the medication seems to be working and I am on the mend, but am told it will take about two months to fully resolve.

Motorcycling and cycling are out at present, but you certainly get to catch up on reading!

HOLIDAYS

2007-05-15T09:13:00.000+01:00

Away for a couple of weeks for a holiday, so this site will have a rest.

Taking the caravan up to the North York Moors (Valonia's home country) on Thursday for a week or so then on to Northumberland and Hadrian's Wall area for a few days.

Here we will meet up with my Roman group at the Roman fort site of Birdoswald (Camboglanna - "crooked glen" to the Romans) where we are contracted to do two days of public displays.

Hope the weather improves by then or rusty armour is a definite hazard!

Have fun, people. Catch up with you-all later.

Valonia

2007-05-02T18:31:00.000+01:00

Valonia's back folks - still on the "narrer boat" but blog title is now "The Green Man".
Go to:
http://nbthegreenman.blogspot.com/

Was getting worried that she had submerged!

ROMAN CAVALRY SHIELDS

2007-04-27T17:28:00.001+01:00

(click on image to enlarge)

Have just finished making two Roman Cavalry Shields (copied from a design on Trajan's Column). These are about 1.2 metres high to give you an idea of scale. This is a special commission that The Ermine Street Guard was asked to do for English Heritage's Special Events Unit.

I started them at Easter and played around with them in my spare time. The shields are cut from heavy plywood and the designs painted on in matt colours (to replicate ancient paints). The edges are finished with leather. This is cut into strips and glued around. The edge is then drilled all round and the leather is stitched via these holes. The centre bosses have been spun from sheet brass (Romans used bronze). I made the four studs which hold each boss from English 2 pence pieces (which were made of copper until 1992 - so I tend to save the old ones!) I dish the coin, solder a spindle on the back so I can hold it in a lathe and then polish off one side as seen.

This is the best they will ever look as they will be used for battle re-enactments with Roman mounted cavalry and will soon be knocked around.

You can see our Roman cavalrymen, with such shields here (just click on the images you see to enlarge them.)

CYCLING

2007-04-22T18:53:00.001+01:00

The Journal of the Veteran-Cycle Club is called "The Boneshaker". Its front cover for the Spring number sports a photograph suitable for such an austere publication:

However, this delightful picture appears inside the front cover - just to show we also ride (fairly) recent bikes as well:

(Perhaps this one should really be on Lee's "Curate after Dark"!)

I am pleased to see that she is a fellow Raleigh fan!

SPRING

2007-04-11T19:26:00.001+01:00

THE TREES
The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.

Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too.
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.

Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.

Philip Larkin was often perceived as being a bit of a miserable old curmudgeon. But this poem gives the lie to that, I think. It breathes Spring, regeneration and hope. I particularly like that last line (read it aloud, lingering on that last "sh" in each "afresh" ). It came to mind the other day when my grand-daughter and I were cycling through some local woods. Looking it up for this blog (I just had to write it out, rather than just giving a link address) has made me sit down to enjoy his complete works once again. They have been gathering dust on the bookshelf for some time.

BIRTH DATE TAGS

2007-04-02T19:36:00.000+01:00

I have been tagged by Chief Biscuit (who has passed this on) to give the following that happened on my birth date (18th December):

THREE EVENTS
1. Abolition of Slavery in USA 1865
2. Death Penalty abolished in U.K. 1969
3. Abel Tasman is first European to land in New Zealand 1642 (especially for you, Chief !)

TWO FAMOUS BIRTHDAYS
1. Grimaldi (the clown) 1779
2. Francis Thompson (poet) 1859

ONE FAMOUS DEATH
1. Theodulf, Bishop of Orleans 821

ONE HOLIDAY
1. Roman Feast of Epona (Goddess of horses and fertility) during Saturnalia. (But I would choose that, wouldn't I?)

The idea is now to pass it on to 4 other nominees to have a go - and I nominate:
1. Nea
2. Judith
3. Lucy
4. Granny J.

(Wikipedia is a great help and it is good fun looking!)

J.R.R.TOLKIEN

2007-03-26T19:19:00.000+01:00

Those fans of J.R.R.T. might be interested to go here

A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD

2007-03-20T17:02:00.000Z

This photograph was taken in the churchyard of the tiny church of St Peter and St Paul, Bilsington which is on the escarpment leading down to Romney Marsh . This yew tree must be as old as the church (AD 1292). The reason it appealed to me was that Tennyson's "In Memoriam" came to mind as soon as I saw it.

ROMAN ARMY WINTER JOBS

2007-03-05T12:09:00.000Z

In winter the Northern Roman Legions stopped campaigning and hunkered down in barracks. (Unless, of course, you were lead by a nutter of a general like Julius Caesar who upset the Gauls by unsportingly carrying on his conquest during the winter months!). However the legionaries were not allowed to relax in camp (idle hands mean devil's work) - this was a time for renovation of kit and building.

The Ermine Street Guard Roman re-enactment group carries on this tradition (hunkering down - not beating up Frenchmen!). We use the winter months to bring our kit up to date - mending and manufacturing (95% of all armour and equipment is made by Guard members themselves).My first personal job was to make a new dagger and scabbard, based on an original example found in Holland. Here is the finished article:
The scabbard (vagina - pronounced "wageena" – hard "g" in Latin) was constructed by pressing out the front plate over a former. Then the design was engraved on it using modern electrical tools (you can only take re-enactment so far!) The Romans then used vitreous enamels to fill the resulting engravings. We cheat and use Araldite glue mixed with the appropriate colour paints. When it cures it is indistinguishable from enamel. The back plate is then soldered on. The hangers are crafted from brass and then rivetted through.
The dagger (pugio – hard "g") blade is crafted from steel bar. The brass handgrips are then rivetted to each side. Under the rivets the Romans fixed cup shaped washers that are the very devil to make. They usually left these plain (see scabbard hangers) but they are crying out to be filled with enamels and sometimes were, hence those on my dagger are filled.

My next job was to make repairs to my armour (lorica segmentata). This wears in two ways.

Firstly, the Shoulder plates (on left in photo ) are connected to the girdle plates (on right)

by brass hooks. There is a lot of weight carried here and they tend to snap after a time

(broken ones are often found on Roman military sites, so we know they had the same problem).

This was a matter of crafting new hooks from brass, grinding off the old rivets and rivetting the new hooks into place. Since this is a fairly frequent job I made up half dozen spares whilst I was at it.

The other job is to replace the leather straps which hold the armour plates together as these wear or rot with sweat. My armour needed the large square piece of leather replaced (photo shows the new piece in situ). Again – a rivetting job.

So there we are – all hunky dory for the new season, when – if the sun shines – I should look something like this

(CLICK ON ANY IMAGE TO ENLARGE)