AUTUMN APPROACHES

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

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

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

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

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)

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!

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!

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

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

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

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

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 !

CHRISTMAS PRESENT

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

OUCH!

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

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

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

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

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

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.