Ghosts

I know that the revelation I am about to make will disappoint or irritate some visitors enormously. Pause for dramatic effect... Ghosts do not exist. In other words, there's no such thing as ghosts. They are  all born in the imaginings of the human mind.

For complex socio-psychological reasons, it is as if many folk actively want the delicious mysteries that ghosts represent. They want that uncertainty, that sense that there is something other than humdrum everyday reality. And perhaps belief in ghosts is connected with a deep-seated desire for there to be an afterlife - the promise that earthly life continues beyond death.

But it is all balderdash, poppycock, hornswoggle and tommy-rot.

Many's the time that I have walked alone through two local graveyards at night - a half moon turning the old gravestones silver white. Perhaps an owl will hoot from the sycamores, perhaps I will hear a noise behind me... but it's just an animal or the breeze blowing a tree limb against masonry. I could happily pitch a tent there and sleep as soundly as a baby, safe in the knowledge that no ghosts will come along to disturb me. There's as much chance of that as King Arthur arriving with Excalibur in his mitt.

I can't bear books, TV shows or films that are built on the premise that ghosts exist. They are so tiresome. One of my favourite novels is "Wuthering Heights" and there's a supernatural apparition in that but it's all  just in the mind of Catherine Earnshaw and a small feature of the novel - created for literary effect.

Long ago I was on the island of Rotuma in The South Pacific when the eye of a 120mph hurricane passed over us. Many houses were destroyed and many coconut palms were blown over like skittles. The eye arrived in the middle of the night bringing a strange calm. I said I would walk up the track to the government station at Ahau to tell them what had happened down in the village of Motusa.

Village people who were taking shelter in the house I shared with Peace Corps volunteer Richard were flabbergasted that I  had walked up to Ahau in the dead of night and returned safely. They insisted that the road was haunted but my only obstacles had been the palm trees lying across the track. I could have walked that way a thousand times in the dead of night and no ghosts would have leapt out on me or waited for me in the shadows.

Let me re-address my opening assertion... Ghosts do exist - but only in people's minds. They are not present in the world around us. They never have been out there and they never will be. The half-secret cult of the ghost is like an extended party game or a shared condition that sufferers freely subscribe to. It fulfils a need, that's all.

I look for ghosts; but none will force 

Their way to me.'Tis falsely said

That there was ever intercourse

Between the living and the dead.

William Wordsworth "The Affliction of Margaret"

Elephants

This weekend The Herd of Sheffield is on display at the nearby Meadowhall shopping centre. Fifty eight fibreglass elephants all individually decorated by local artists. They will be auctioned off on Thursday evening. We were hoping to bag one until I read that organisers expect the average price will be £1500 - which is much more than we are prepared to shell out.

Anyway, I drove over to Meadowhall on Friday lunchtime and saw the entire herd of pachyderms. They have delighted this city and their absence from scattered locations has left a void in Sheffielders' lives. This thoughtful and well-executed project has already raised many thousands of pounds for our children's hospital.

Human creativity is mind-blowing. At first there were fifty eight neutral elephants - blank canvases. Then the artists came along and created fifty eight unique designs. Some celebrated nature, others spoke of industry, labour or history. Some had serious points to make, others were simply frivolous. Some were abstract while others were naturalistic. Every one was different.

Farewell to The Herd of Sheffield.

Hey!

Hey! Who the hell do you think you are Mr Pussycat? Sylvester? Top Cat? The cat that got the cream wool?

You have clambered on to Beau's back and you are sitting there like Donald Trump, hoping to nail some birds. It is just not on you feline interloper! Get off Beau's back and start doing the things that cats are meant to do! Chasing mice, scratching furniture, leaving cat hairs on beds...but not riding into the sunset on the back of our sheep! Miaow!

Randomly re-done by Google Photos

Exit

King Bhumibol Adulyadej of Thailand died yesterday. He had been on the throne for seventy years and was revered by ordinary Thai people like a god. No visit to a cinema in  Thailand is complete without a rendition of "The King's Song" and when the associated images appear on screen you must stand to attention or risk arrest. King Bhumibol Adulyadej's image is everywhere and I know that the Thai people will be hurting terribly today as they begin a period of national mourning that will last a year.

Translation:-

We, servants of His great Majesty,

prostrate our heart and head,

to pay respect to the ruler, 

whose merits are boundless,

our glorious sovereign ,

the greatest of Siam,

with great and lasting honour,

We are secure and peaceful 

because of your royal rule,

the result of royal protection

is people living in happiness and in peace,

May it be that whatever you will,

be done according to the hopes of your great heart

as we wish you victory, hurrah!

This what President Obama had to say about him a few hours after the king's death, "I had the honour of calling on His Majesty the King during my visit to Thailand in 2012, and recall his grace and warmth, as well as his deep affection and compassion for the Thai people. As the revered leader and only monarch that most Thais have ever known, His Majesty was a tireless champion of his country's development and demonstrated unflagging devotion to improving the standard of living of the Thai people. With a creative spirit and a drive for innovation, he pioneered new technologies that have rightfully received worldwide acclaim."

I believe that the technologies referred to were mostly to do with land drainage and the supply of electricity - subjects which fascinated the king in his younger days and you may see images in the YouTube clip associated with these very practical concerns.

MK

The Light Pyramid, Milton Keynes

MK? Milton Keynes in Buckinghamshire. It grew up in the nineteen sixties as one of England's planned "new towns" and now has a population of just under quarter of a million. It sits close to the M1 motorway and is equidistant from London, Birmingham, Oxford and Cambridge.

I had driven past Milton Keynes many times but had never visited until Sunday evening as we were returning to The North from our weekend sojourn in London. A night in MK would break up the journey and my curiosity would be salved.

MK Rose in Campbell Park

Though three or four historic villages were blended in to the urban design, most of the town is based upon an American-style grid system with wide boulevards and thousands of trees. One of the original planning tenets was that no building in Milton Keynes should be taller than the tallest tree and indeed it still feels like a "low rise" place.

In MK Centre

Other English cities have clear historic centres - and the whole city radiates from that point but Milton Keynes is different. Instead of an obvious central focus there is instead a massive, sprawling shopping palace called MK Centre. Look to the left and the gleaming floor stretches out as far as the eye can see. Look to the right and it's the same. Countless shops and eateries.

MK also has parks and paths, housing estates and hi-tec businesses and office blocks. As I sat on the little wall that surrounds The Light Pyramid in Campbell Park, I saw a posse of runners moving up the slope towards me. "Morning", puffed the lead runner and there were other "Mornings" from some of the other runners. It seemed like a friendly place and indeed just then a scruffy black dog mounted a scruffy white dog. The black dog's owner protested, "That's rude Alfie! Get off her!" 

Parking by MK Centre cost £2 for one hour so we didn't stay long there. Why isn't it free to park? We got in the car and moved north along Watling Street to Towcester where we stopped for a stroll and sustenance in Towcester Tea Rooms before returning to the motherland - Yorkshire my Yorkshire, this beating heart of the known universe. Interestingly, it was free to park in  historic Towcester's little marketplace. Learn from this Milton Keynes instead of ripping off shoppers and inquisitive visitors from UpNorth.

Church of Christ The Cornerstone, Milton Keynes

Warning

Twelve years ago we had wooden decking installed at the back of our house. We are still very happy with it. It's like the house has an extra room - but outdoors.

The trouble with decking in northern England is it needs cleaning a couple of times a year. If you don't clean it, it can become slippery in damp conditions - as a layer of lethal algae begins to form on the surface of the wood.

Ten years ago at this very time of year, I walked over our decking to right a chair that had been overturned by the wind. Standing still but bending down, my feet went from under me and in the flash of an eye I was lying on my back - as if I had been thrown to the floor by an invisible wrestler. I lay there chuckling, glad the moment had not been caught on camera. I was totally uninjured.

From that day forward, I have been pretty good about cleaning the decking and when I walk on it I will often test its slipperiness. Being a somewhat cautious kind of fellow, my shoes are all rubber-soled. However, on Monday evening this week I had another fall on the decking.

I stepped on to it to attend to our deep fat fryer - that I often place outside to avoid related kitchen smells. Then all of a sudden - wham, bang thank you man - I was sprawled on the decking once more. This time the fall was at the edge of the decking and as I fell my right elbow was slammed into the adjacent stone path.

For a moment, I thought I might have broken my arm or dislocated my elbow. Such injuries could easily happen on slippery decking. But as I lay there for a moment, no doubt looking like "a complete twat" - as some of my fellow Yorkshiremen might have remarked, I realised that I had once again escaped significant injury. 

I shall be out on that decking in the next few days in my wellies with a stiff brush, a bucket of Jeyes fluid and a power hose - to remove that layer of algae and prepare for wintertime. If you have got any wooden decking you might want to think about doing the same. If you visit a house or business that has wooden decking, please take care.

Capital

Back from London. Though I have several talents, cleaning a daughter's flat is not one of them.  I would have only got in the way. Besides, it was my birthday so I left Shirley and Frances sorting the flat out and caught a bus to London Bridge. Like Steve, the mastermind behind "Shadows and Light", I was off to see the Georgia O'Keeffe exhibition at Tate Modern on the south bank of the Thames.

It was great - showing O'Keeffe's development as an artist through the twentieth century - her passions and her quest for beauty - seeking what she sometimes called "The Far Away". Maybe we are all looking for that. The one downside of this brilliant exhibition was the number of visitors. They kept getting in my way. But that's London for you. Crazy place.

Maybe I'll return to Georgia O'Keeffe another time but for now here are three pictures I snapped on Saturday afternoon, down by The Thames...

Bubbles with "The Walkie Talkie" building beyond

Under the arches at Borough Market

Tate Modern