GUINNESS MARMITE

They say you either love Marmite or hate it. But for all you Marmite lovers out there they have just produced a trial run of Guinness flavoured. A "limited edition" only, just to see if it takes off. Sorry ex-pats, I think it will be confined to UK. But don't worry HHnB , Bro will be bringing a bottle with him to Oz!

MEDITATION ON A DOOR LATCH

(click to enlarge)

My favourite local cycling area, Romney Marsh, is littered with ancient mediaeval parish churches. Reflecting the social life and population rise and fall of these little marsh villages, they are a particular interest of mine. So much has changed. There are quite large churches where the village has all but disappeared. Why? Well, the low lying marshlands, in former times, were very unhealthy due to malaria (and you thought this was a tropical disease?) and the Black Death of 1350 AD completely ravaged these villages, decimating the populations.

This by way of an introduction to the church of St George at Ivychurch. A large church for a (now) small village (it is known as "The Cathedral of Romney Marsh), it is no longer used for general services, the village population being so small, but is lovingly preserved. The ancient floor tiles of the northern aisle have been heavily cracked or destroyed as a result of Oliver Cromwell's soldiers stabling their horses there during the English Civil War.

But it is the latch to the church door that I want us to examine. It is obviously very old - it could even be as old as the oak door, which is as old as the church (1360). How many times has this latch been lifted over the centuries? For the usual services, for the school which was held there in ancient times, in times of sadness (see The Black Death above!) and in times of joy (the church has chapels and corners dedicated to various saints, each of whom had a village society who each celebrated "their" saint with a feast day each year).

My late father-in-law was a master blacksmith and I worked for him for a number of years, so have an appreciation of iron work that is probably above the average. This latch would have been made by the local village smith - a man who would have been well-respected, as workers with the sacred iron had been since its original discovery. A general job - a latch for the new church door, but he worked at it carefully and decorated it proudly, according to the limits of his simple village craftsmanship. He must have touched his work and checked it out each time he entered the church (as I still do when I see wrought ironwork that I crafted over 40 years ago).

The iron would have been delivered to him as heavy "pigs", carried by pack horses (the Marsh roads being usually impassable to wagons) probably from the local Sussex iron mines. He would then have to heat a pig yellow-hot in the forge and chisel off a lump for his latch. This then would be re-heated, beaten, shaped and chisel-cut to form the latch length. Look carefully at the latch and you will be able to see that there are no machine or file marks on it - it has been shaped by hammer blows alone. See how he has fined it down ("drawing it" is the craftsman's term) so that it is thinner where it meets the spindle coming through from the outer door. Here it has been flattened by heat and hammer - it would have been easier to make this bit circular, but, pride in his work, he has lengthened out the tip to form a heart shape - a grace note.

Now turn your attention to the latch end. It could have been left plain and would have worked just as well. But here was a craftsman, proud of his standing in the village and of the work he would do for it and his church. He is a simple country fellow but wanted to give it his mark. Notice that these diagonals, dots and lines would not have been made with files, but, again, have been worked in the fire. The metal has been heated to red-hot and the decorations have been made with a hammer and chisel. You will know this because no metal has been removed from the latch. Where the chisel has struck downwards the metal has been pushed to either side, causing raised "cushioning".

A village craftsman, long forgotten. But allowed to live again for just a little while because of the work he has left behind. One of our forefathers, summed up beautifully in Edmund Blunden's poem.

THE DASH POEM

I found THIS very moving and thought that it should be shared. Makes you think!

(View with your sound on)

My daughter emailed it to me and I am grateful to Windblown Butterfly for letting me link to her blog from where it originally came.

PROBLEMS WITH NEW BLOGGER

I have recently switched to new Blogger (I wish I hadn't). Can anyone tell me why old friends who post comments are now listed as "anonymous"? Is this because they are not signed up to new blogger? (If so and you are one of these, please sign your contribution with your blog name, so I can visit your blog)

Also why do the links to favourites in "my profile" no longer link?

Also I have to put my password in twice before it recognises it.

Also the "remember me on this computer" does not work - although ticked.

Is this the usual case of "if it ain't broke, don't try to fix it"? Or "Improvement means deterioration"?

AT THE ORCHARD PAVILION

AT THE ORCHARD PAVILION
(Wang Shi Chih 321 – 379 AD)

This is the ninth year of Yung Ho (AD 353), kuei chou in the cycle. We met in the late spring at the Orchard pavilion in Shanyin to celebrate the water festival.

All the scholar friends are gathered and there is a goodly mixture of old and young. In the background lie high peaks and deep forests, while a clear gurgling brook catches the light to the right and to the left. We then arrange ourselves sitting on its bank, drinking in succession from the goblet as it floats down the stream. No music is provided, but with drinking and with song our hearts are gay and at ease. It is a clear spring day with mild, caressing breeze. The vast universe, throbbing with life, lies before us, entertaining the eye and pleasing the spirit and all the senses. It is perfect.

I often thought that the people of the past lived and felt exactly as we of today. Whenever I read their writings I felt this way and was seized with its pathos. It is a cool comfort to say that life and death are different phases of the same thing and that a long span of life or a short one does not matter. Alas! The people of the future will look on us as we look on those who have gone before us. Hence I have recorded here those present and what they said. Ages may pass and times change, but the human sentiments will be the same. I know that future readers who set their eyes on these words will be affected the same way.

Wang Shi Chih was a renowned Chinese calligraphist. The above thoughts he inscribed on a stele which became famous. So many people took rubbings of it that it became badly worn. He inscribed it anew, but could not catch the spontaneity of the original which is still the one preferred by scholars.

We are treated to a little cameo of a delightful, civilised picnic in China 1,700 years ago. His last two sentences are so true (and poignant). But I am sure he would never have foreseen that "future readers" would enjoy his thoughts via the Worldwide Web!

I am indebted to Lin Yutang for this translation (and thank you, Duchess, for the book I took it from!)

WARNING TO CHILDREN

Children, if you dare to think
Of the greatness, rareness, muchness
Fewness of this precious only
Endless world in which you say
You live, you think of things like this:
Blocks of slate enclosing dappled
Red and green, enclosing tawny
Yellow nets, enclosing white
And black acres of dominoes,
Where a neat brown paper parcel
Tempts you to untie the string.
In the parcel a small island,
On the island a large tree,
On the tree a husky fruit.
Strip the husk and pare the rind off:
In the kernel you will see
Blocks of slate enclosed by dappled
Red and green, enclosed by tawny
Yellow nets, enclosed by white
And black acres of dominoes,
Where the same brown paper parcel -
Children, leave the string alone!
For who dares undo the parcel
Finds himself at once inside it,
On the island, in the fruit,
Blocks of slate about his head,
Finds himself enclosed by dappled
Green and red, enclosed by yellow
Tawny nets, enclosed by black
And white acres of dominoes,
With the same brown paper parcel
Still untied upon his knee.
And, if he then should dare to think
Of the fewness, muchness, rareness,
Greatness of this endless only
Precious world in which he says
He lives - he then unties the string.

Robert Graves

I love this poem. It somehow has great meaning, but I find it impossible to tie it down.
One commentator likens it to " the poetic equivalent of one of Escher's paintings (if you're not familiar with Escher, take a look at http://www.worldofescher.com/gallery/), where the question is not so much what it *means* as what it *is*. Look through some of the Escher paintings, then go back and read the poem aloud, noting the loops and subtle variations, the way parts of it appear to contain and be contained by other parts, the way the sound and imagery weave themselves into the theme." (for these latter thoughts, thank you Martin )

Dear Bloggers All - A VERY HAPPY CHRISTMAS

Here is my favourite group singing my favourite traditional carol
Just for you!
With all my very best wishes for a Happy Christmas
and a peaceful and healthy New Year.


Steeleye Span - Gaudete

A DOG IS FOR LIFE, NOT JUST FOR CHRISTMAS

(click to enlarge)
This is a bit of an "off-the-cuff" whimsey.
I liked the picture, liked the subject, liked the quote
and like the author - so there - it's my blog
and I shall do what I like with it!

TREES

(Click to Enlarge)

HHnB has a posting about trees. This reminded me of an "Ent" I once saw many years ago (in Mote Park, HHnB)

They are quite shy and this one is no longer there - he looked very surprised as I photographed him and I guess he wandered away somewhere

BICYCLES

( Click to enlarge)

Life is not all motorcycling. Here is a picture of my favourite bicycle ( I have three).

This one has been with me in various guises since 1957, when I bought it whilst in the army, wanting something to ride. It was then 10 years old, a 1947 Raleigh Record Ace and belonged to the owner of a little back street bike shop in Canterbury who sold it to me for £10 (2 weeks army pay then!). In the 50 years I have owned it, it had one complete recondition in 1976 and that is how you see it now, 30 years later.

I was a club cyclist when younger (still a member of C.T.C. but ride solo now) and have ridden and owned many bicycles, but this old faithful has stayed with me because I have never found one so responsive - other bikes you need to pedal along, for some reason on this one I feel I need to pedal to keep up with it! It gets used regularly for cycle rides and for meets of the Veteran Cycle Club, where it is much admired (which is more than can be said for its rider!).

Motor Cycling is exhilarating ("detail is lost, but sensation is enhanced" as T. E. Lawrence remarked) - cycling is relaxing, good exercise and gives one the chance to see more, stop to examine things and meditate on it all whilst twiddling along.

All this is by way of an introduction so that my next posting will not come as too much of a surprise to those who know my lifelong love of motor cycles!

NOVEMBER 11th

Remembrance Day

(click above link for background with a difference)

IN FLANDERS FIELDS
By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918) Canadian Army

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

TOMMY

I went into a public 'ouse to get a pint o'beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, ``We serve no red-coats here.''
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:

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,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's ``Thank you, Mr. Atkins,'' when the band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music 'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!

For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' ``Tommy, wait outside'';
But it's ``Special train for Atkins'' when the trooper's on the tide,
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's ``Special train for Atkins'' when the trooper's on the tide.

Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.

Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' ``Tommy how's yer soul?''
But it's ``Thin red line of 'eroes'' when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's ``Thin red line of 'eroes'' when the drums begin to roll.

We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints:
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;

While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an ``Tommy, fall be'ind,''
But it's ``Please to walk in front, sir,'' when there's trouble in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's ``Please to walk in front, sir,'' when there's trouble in the wind.

You talk o' better food for us, an'schools, an' fires an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.

For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' ``Chuck him out, the brute!''
But it's ``Saviour of 'is country,'' when the guns begin to shoot;
Yes it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
But Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool--you bet that Tommy sees!
Rudyard Kipling

Can I also recommend Kipling's short story "The Gardener" (the whole of which can be read at this site) which is appropriate to this time and is one of his greatest short stories - full of allusions and hidden meanings. (And, of course, he lost his only son at the battle of Loos in WW1)

This is dedicated to all those who died then and those still fighting, wounded and dying in Afghanistan and Iraq now. We will have our own opinions and politics on these matters. Servicemen and women do not have that luxury, but still get on with the job they are given to do, as they have always done.

GROUP HUG UPDATE

Well, I took HHnB's advice and sent the ESG group hug photo to the "Hug" website. So it is now there for all the world to see!

WILTSHIRE RIDE

Well - Vita always has such great bike pix on her blog - so that's my excuse! Here is my old friend the BMW - we have been together for nearly 25 years and have got to know each other very well. A few days ago we rode down into my favourite hunting grounds.

A "day of days " (thank you John Betjeman) in crisp Autumn air, swinging across Salisbury Plain in golden sunshine. Dive down through tunnels of trees just beginning to take on their autumn colours. Open the throttle to surge up hills, beat of engine changes to a harsher song, feathering off as we crest the rise and the rolling downlands spread beneath us. Switchback - up, down, up down. Buzzards lazily circling in the downland thermals. Drop gears and lean into corners, grass verges coming up to meet us. Brake for little downland villages and pobble through on light throttle. Stop off at country bakers' to buy pie and cake, carefully stowed in pannier for later delectation at the target spot.

Lovely bend swinging through the Vale of Pewsey , then we rustle in to the ancient town of Devizes, through it and up onto the top of Roundway Hill. Here is lunch stop and where the photo was taken. Far reaching views back over the Vale of Pewsey - clean wind blowing - settle into cosy spot and dig out contents of pannier. Pie, cake and hot coffee: bright, clean sky: panoramic views: thoughts of the reverse enjoyment of 170 miles going home. Could life be better at such a moment? This is why I have ridden motorcycles for 50 years!

This ride also had a particular attraction for me. 50 years ago to the day it was here, at Devizes I joined the army and down in the valley below the hill are the relics of the army camp where I did my training (now a vast business park, but I can still make out some of the drill square amongst the buildings). 50 years - gone! For about 3 months then I was the youngest squaddie in the British Army (17 and a bit). That gives my age away - but days like this, with the bike, keep me young.

(Thank you HHnB for explaining linking to me - it works, as you see)

FREE HUGS UPDATE

I sent the "Free Hugs" video to the whole membership of The Ermine Street Guard. Those attending our last display for 2006 (gets a bit cold around the knees after October in the UK)decided to go for a mass "hug-in" for this blog. (You see, Valonia, we really are quite nice, off duty!)

ROMANS IN GERMANY

We were invited to attend the 8th Römertage event at this Limes Fort Site near Stuttgart. Some 35 members flew out to be met by a coach at Stuttgart airport, whilst Russell and Terry did sterling work trucking a very slow lorry across half Europe with all the kit.

We were billetted in a Youth Hostel in the woods above the town. Built in 1937, the "Hitler Youth" swastika symbol had been carefully chiselled away from its stone plaque, but one could easily imagine the enthusiastic, lederhosen clad youth assembling and swinging down the woodland road singing appropriate marching songs.

The Guard preferred to mill around then shamble down to the town in odd groups – some staggering back in the early hours suitably uplifted by a more alcoholic stimulus.

The burgomeister of Aalen welcomed us on the first evening and we were presented with a very handsome bronze votive statuette of Eros and a stone head of Aalen’s genius loci.
We set our static camp display up on the site of the Limes cavalry fort, together with other groups and traders. The activity display area was very small and was surrounded with houses on three sides and the display tents on the other. We were thus diffident about shooting our artillery weapons. However the organisers were completely blasé about this. We loaded the onager and ballista with melons and oranges instead of the usual hard stuff, but could not shoot the catapulta with its lethal delivery. A German group’s tent was in the firing line, but when we warned them about this they said they would buy us a drink if we could hit it! (We managed it) Such is the laid back attitude to the same European health and safety laws which we in the UK "gold plate" so stiflingly.

Some 13,000 people watched our displays with repeated and enthusiastic applause. Outside the display ground was a large square which had been turned into a beer and refreshment area for the event. As we marched away at the end of the day, back to our changing area, we passed through this square and the whole crowd of several hundred people rose as one to cheer and applaud us. Such spontaneous appreciation sent a frisson down the spine.

Off duty and in the evenings we sampled the excellent pavement bars and restaurants.

One evening Exeter John did his best to promote international harmony when he became the object of a very friendly young German male in a bar. They had just got to the stage of exchanging tee shirts when he was quickly rescued by other Guard members who, with the benefit of being onlookers to the encounter, realised that the German wanted to take home not just the teeshirt, but John with it! Our last day was free and Juri, the organiser arrived at the Hostel to walk us up to Aalen’s famous thermal baths for free immersions. We asked him how far this walk would be – about two and a half kilometers was the reply – it turned out to be more like 3 miles and halfway up a mountain. For some this was the last straw after a physical weekend and hectic nights and the relaxing baths were sorely needed by the time we got there.

We were very fortunate in having a German girl, Muriel, as our minder. She spoke excellent English, often smoothed our way and gave a very efficient German commentary during our displays. She became very much part of The Guard and we gallantly presented her with a bouquet of red roses on our goodbyes. She subsequently sent an email saying that everyone at Aalen thought the success of the Römertage was largely due to the participation of the Ermine Street Guard and how she was envied by everyone for her job working with us. She thinks that, once fed, we are an amazing group.

By common agreement this must go down as one of the very best events The Guard as ever attended. Perfect weather, good billet, enthusiastic audiences, excellent organisation and relaxing beer gardens and restaurants. Here’s to the next time!

FREE HUGS

Dear Bloggers all

I found this profoundly moving:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vr3x_RRJdd4

watch it to the end, with your sound on.

the world needs more of this!

Watch the sunset at Red Bluff ( In Western Australia), with the Bear and a hip-flask full of good Malt whisky.

These photos are for HHnB (Secret Hill) who mentions in her latest blog that one of the things she would like to do again was....(see title). So here they are doing just that together with her Ma and Pa, with a panorama and sunset from Red Bluff.

Romans Invade Germany

No - this is not a self portrait, but another member of The Ermine Street Guard in "marching order". This seems appropriate as we are off again next week to the German city of Aalen (see:http://www.britannica.com/eb/article-9003199) to give displays over two days at the major Roman Festival they hold each year (20,000 people there last year). All the kit (armour, artillery weapons, leather tents, etc.) go by lorry in the early hours of next Thursday and we fly out in the evening.

Looks like a good gig. Billetted in a "Youth Hotel"nearby, with a beer garden attached (which I suppose we shall have to sample, just for politeness, you understand).

This is my 20th year of "Roman Soldiering". Sometimes think I am getting too old for all this (67) - but, hey!, what an antidote to the stresses and strains of modern life in UK.

LOOK BOTH WAYS

My daughter took us to see this film when visiting her in W. Australia. I did not quite know what to make of it then, but it stayed with me. I recently bought the DVD and have viewed it twice since. It is a film that needed quiet reflection from me. It is now one of my favourites. Totally life affirming.

HADRIAN'S WALL

We were worried that it would be wet for the Roman Army displays up in the North of England at Hadrian's Wall - the forecast was not good. However we had brilliant weather. It was not all playing Roman soldiers though - on our "off days" we (my wife and the dog) went walking along the famous Wall. It is spectacular countryside with wide panoramas over the moors. To have it as clear as this during August is quite unusual. You are high and wide above England, the air is clear and breezy and is a tonic for the soul.