Walls

...and after visiting Gaia, the Greek earth goddess, I descended to what was once Granville Street. But in truth that mid-Victorian street disappeared when the Sheffield Supertram Network was constructed in the early 1990s. Granville Street now accommodates tram lines that head to the southern edges of the city.

Several weeks ago, when riding on the tram, I noticed some interesting artwork and graffiti on the wall next to the tramway. With the city centre looming beyond that wall, I foresaw some good photo possibilities so yesterday I scratched that itch as the accompanying images show.

They call that wall "Granville Street Gallery". Whoever envisioned it may have hoped for proper street art by talented muralists. Instead, spotty teenagers with spray cans and zero artistic ability have made their hurried contributions. I noticed that one or two of them could not even spell the name of their home city correctly - forgetting the "i before e" rule.

I wonder what merit their hurried scrawl and tagging  possesses? Maybe it's just sad, socially awkward boys declaring "I am here! I exist!" or "I spoil and degrade my urban environment because I just don't care! I feel alienated". In truth, I find it all hard to understand or forgive. Perhaps I should learn to look both ways...

From Granville Street, I walked alongside The River Sheaf before schlepping up to Abbeydale Road. As I approached Jameson's tea shop, I remembered that a special blue plaque had been affixed to a wall on the side street next to it just last year.

It marks the humble place where England's most famous goalkeeper was born - the great Gordon Banks...

Gaia

Every year gardeners, garden designers, craftspeople and artists work like busy bees to create eye-catching scenes for The Chelsea Flower Show in London. When that show ends after five days, most of  the exhibits are dismantled and lost forever - preserved only in photographs and film.

However, this year there was a huge effort to preserve one of the most successful garden features - a recumbent representation of the Greek earth goddess Gaia. Her upper body was carved from  sequoia wood. Serendipitously, the wood carver responsible was a fellow called Chris Wood!

And here's the good part. Gaia was brought to Sheffield and supplanted in the green communal area behind Park Hill Flats where our daughter Frances works.

I had been meaning to pay the sculpture a visit with my camera and today was the day. She looked so beautiful lying there - her head as big as a small family car. The wood carving was exquisite. Her lower body is made from limestone using traditional stone-walling techniques.

In coming months, the surrounding grassy banks and borders will evolve into a properly planted garden area for community use. 

Cynic that I am, I can't help thinking that in the course of time brainless vandals will probably target Gaia - after all she is made of wood and as I say - quite beautiful. But for now she's perfect - contrasting nicely with the brutalism of the flats.

After my visit, I walked all the way home again - some four miles, stopping a couple of times to read the first chapters of "All Together Now?"  by Mike Carter - "One man's walk in search of his father and a lost England". I am enjoying it so far. Very different from "Island Dreams" by Evelyn Orange - that's for sure!

The green plastic fencing is temporary to protect grass re-seeding

“Now we, if not in the spirit, have been caught up to see our earth, our mother, Gaia Mater, set like a jewel in space. We have no excuse now for supposing her riches inexhaustible nor the area we have to live on limitless because

unbounded. We are the children of that great blue white jewel. Through

our mother we are part of the solar system and part through that of

the whole universe. In the blazing poetry of the fact we are children of the stars.”

- William Golding -

Ten

Home from the pub quiz at "The Robin Hood", Millhouses. I am pleased to report that with my longtime quiz companions - Mick and Mike - we managed to win both the line and the top score on our bingo-style quiz sheets.

I brought my quiz sheet home and here are just ten of the questions that were posed tonight.

1. What was Punch's dog called in Punch and Judy shows?

2. What YCBS was John McEnroe's trademark retort to tennis umpires?

3. To which part of the human body does the term "hepatic" refer?

4. Which nineteenth century novel begins with these words: "Call me Ishmael"?

5. Which actress has starred as Carol Danvers (Captain Marvel) in several major Marvel Cinematic Universe feature films?

6. Which American president was at the heart of The Watergate scandal in the 1970s?

7. In Yorkshire what is the name of the triangle that is bounded by Wakefield, Rothwell and Morley?

8. For which professional football club did David Beckham play his last game?

9. Which British  artist had big hits with "Love and Affection" and "Drop the Pilot"?

10. In cricket, what is the term for on-field criticism of the opposition's players?

How did you do?

Here are the answers...

1. Toby

2. You Cannot Be Serious!

3. liver

4. "Moby-Dick"

5. Brie Larsson

6. Richard Nixon

7. The Rhubarb Triangle

8. Paris Saint Germaine

9. Joan Armatrading

10. sledging

Early

Early this morning, I drove out to the showground at Hope in The Hope Valley.  I had risen at an ungodly hour to take our son Ian there. He had signed up for a gruelling running event and you needed to be there an hour early for the purposes of registration, picking up your running number and tracking device before receiving a pre-race briefing.

I was witnessing a sub-culture of which I knew and still know very little. The runners around me were dressed in their special  and ready to go - all with little backpacks containing  electrolytes, special energy gels, basic first aid kits and of course their obligatory smartphones. There were around three hundred runners in the first tranche.

Like my beloved son, they had all voluntarily signed up to run 50km - but not on flat roads or running tracks. The course of this event would take them up hill and down dale, arcing around  the Upper Derwent reservoirs. I know this terrain very well having walked most of those paths though of course I never considered running along them. It was enough for me to just plod like an ambling Asian elephant.

I watched them go and then drove home for a toasted bagel and a mug of morning tea.

Ian at the start

Soon after consuming this, we received a phone call. Ian was about 15km into the race and had decided he needed to drop out. What a shame! The weather was absolutely perfect for late September and The Peak District was bathed in glorious sunshine after a misty start.

At first I thought that he might have had a fall and perhaps suffered an injury but It turns out that he had received a work-related phone call and there was some pressing business he just had to iron out. He needed to be back on his laptop as soon as possible.

I went to pick him up at Ashopton Viaduct. What a bummer! He had been looking forward to this event for ages and had brought little Zach up from London for the weekend. I thought to myself - Hell, if he had not had a smartphone on him, the pressing work matter would have simply had to wait. Those things can be like little genii on your shoulder - never allowing you to truly get away and be free, always nagging at you with bleeps, rings and alerts.

By good fortune - tomorrow (Sunday) happens to be the day of the annual Sheffield 10km road race so Ian quickly signed up for it. Though not as gruelling as the 50km run in The Peak District would have been, the road race will provide a measure of consolation. 

I just hope his blasted phone doesn't ring half way round the course!

Dog walker at Hope Showground after the 50km runners had departed

Arasay

 

Recently I was in our local Co-op supermarket. There I saw a table with books neatly spread across it. They were there to raise money for some charity or other. I can't remember which.

All of the books had been published under the "My Weekly" banner with "My Weekly" being a long-running British general interest magazine that is aimed at women. It contains short stories, lifestyle advice, puzzles, recipes, interviews. Currently it has a weekly circulation of around 45,000 copies, down significantly on past years. I guess that decline  is to do with smartphones and internet access.

Anyway, I suddenly thought to myself - I am going to read one of these books - see if it has any merit. I dropped some coins in the collecting tub and at random chose "Island Dreams" by Evelyn Orange.

This is how "Amazon" summarise the book:-

Cassie Melrose inherits her grandmother’s house and Craft Centre on the remote Scottish island of Arasay. Initially planning a brief visit, she becomes entangled in the island’s charm, its close-knit community, and lingering emotions from her past – including a renewed connection with Zander, her teenage love…

Getting anything published is not easy and out there in the big wide world there are many thousands of would-be writers who never see any of their work accepted or published so you have to give it to Evelyn Orange, pictured below. She made it. And this isn't the only book she has had printed by "My Weekly".

Anyway, I finished "Island Dreams" yesterday, sitting in the sunshine at our garden table. I found it very easy to read and looked forward to reading the next chapter and the next.

I discovered a dozen blatant errors in expression that should have been spotted by any proofreader worth his or her salt but more important than that I became fond of the main character - Cassie Melrose. I wanted things to work out for her.

There was a lightness, a kind of innocence about the delivery. You guessed from the outset that Cassie and Zander would rekindle their love after a few hiccups along the way. But there was not even the slightest hint of sex happening. There was a measure of passionate kissing in which Cassie's heart melted but Gentleman Zander never tried to coax her to bed.

As I have done with past book reviews, here's just a taste of "Island Dreams" from the very middle of the book:-

Cassie sighed into his long, muscular body, enjoying the physical warmth and feeling of protection it gave her. How quickly they had slotted into each other's lives! She looked up into his face, "It's OK, I know you've had to put some stuff on hold with the worry of Connor's disappearance. Thankfully he's safe now."

"Yes, I'd better get him and his mum back home."

"What about the dog?" she asked as they walked to the door.

He gave a rueful grin. "That's something else to sort out. I need to try and persuade Maeve to give Pip a home as well."

"I hope she does."

Pakman

 

No! Not that "Pac Man"! This Pakman! The one pictured below - David Pakman the Argentinian-American political commentator. I have been following his You Tube channel for two or three years now

David speaks up for ordinary people and democracy, highlighting failings and serious concerns connected with the conduct of America's current government. I searched this blog for previous references to David Pakman but found none which was pretty surprising.

His voice is calm, intelligent and articulate. He does his research and does not rave like a communist lunatic. In my view, he tells it like it is, picking away at all that is wrong with the current regime - the lies, the broken promises, the personal profiteering, the warmongering, the bully boy insults. Naturally, the current president's behaviour, speeches and actions or lack of them receive special attention on the channel.

David has been mentioned in dispatches by The White House as they have sought to rubbish intelligent dissent - including of course the recent and rather chilling attempt at an authoritarian crackdown on CNN, MSNOW and Politico.

If the idea of America means anything, it includes the freedom to speak up, to object, to point in a different direction and that is what David Pakman does every day of the week. Given all that has been going on since the last presidential election, he has had no shortage of topics to get his teeth into.

Here's a current example of his good work...

MBGA

 

MBGA = Make Britain Great Again. Perhaps that slogan sounds vaguely familiar?

As I was walking up Carr Road, Walkley yesterday, I was startled to see the car sticker shown at the top of this blogpost. I had never seen one before.

The man shown in profile is Nigel Farage, the millionaire leader of Britain's right wing Reform Party. He is the same right wing politician who led UKIP (United Kingdom Independence Party) when this country foolishly voted to leave The European Union in 2017.

Although chummy and plausible, I would not trust Farage as far as I could throw him. He has had an insidious effect on British politics and our nation's morale. His right wing agenda is sugar coated in chumminess and plausibility. But his politics come from the same bitter cauldron brewed by the architects of the MAGA movement in America.

Farage has used his anti-immigration sophistry to win over big sections of the British working class even though his loyalties lie firmly with moneymakers and landowners. The Reform Party have recently received huge donations from two crypto-billionaires - demonstrating that Farage and his gang remain a force to be reckoned with as politics in this country evolve.

Farage admires the current occupant of The White House even though his Make America Great Again nonsense has clearly failed miserably, crumbling like The East Wing of The People's House.

I find all of this both depressing and scary and I am hugely disappointed that millions of working class voters currently seem unable to see what Farage and his Reform Party are really all about. Nigel Farage = Nigel Charade. 

But look closely at that car sticker at the top. Has someone altered it? Farage appears to be sporting a moustache that is reminiscent of the one that belonged  to Little Adolf Hitler.  It looks different from the sticker you can order online should you possess those kind of right wing tendencies...