Daffodils

Perennial daffodils in our garden are living proof that the wheel has turned and we are heading for  another summer.  Of course, winter may yet exhale its  dying breaths because that is what March and early April frequently permit.

This is not the first time that I have blogged about daffodils. Back in March 2017, I even posted a self-penned poem called "Daffodils". That was eight years ago.

It is likely that daffodil bulbs were first brought to The British Isles by Romans almost two thousand years ago. Furthermore, it is believed that all daffodil species had their origins in a few wild varieties that grew in the woods of the Iberian peninsula (Spain & Portugal) and northern Morocco.

It is hard to imagine these British islands off the edge of Europe without daffodils. They are gaudy, vigorous flowers that trumpet defiantly to the world. There's no subtle delicacy about them. They shout  out, "We are yellow and we are strong!" 

Many is the year that our daffodils have poked their heads from the ground far too early - before wintertime was even half done. You might think they would be killed off by snow and freezing temperatures but they always defy logic and come bursting through yet again with an harmonious "Ta-da!"

The images of  this year's crop were snapped on Wednesday afternoon. They flourish in the shelter of a privet hedge - one of the sunniest spots in our garden. By  July they will be retreating to the earth from whence they came but I have no doubt whatsoever that they will be back again next year.

Nineteen

For four decades I never weighed myself. If I had to be weighed by a medical professional, I always asked them not to tell me  my weight. I didn't want to know. We have some bathroom scales but I had never stood upon them until eight days ago.

I had been contacted by The National Health Service in relation to a lung screening programme. Like all others in my age group who were agreeable, I was to be asked a series of questions over  the telephone to determine whether or not I should move forward to the next stage - a full-blown MRI scan.

However, in order to proceed with the questions there were apparently two vital pieces of information they needed - my height and weight. I was trapped. Just before the scheduled call I ascended our stairs and stood on the scales. Six feet below I could see the number "19". Nineteen stones. Far more of me than there used to be.

There and then I decided to shed some weight and have already  started what I call "The Yorkshire Pudding Diet". This is a diet that I have dreamt up myself without reference to any dietitians or so-called experts in the field. It does not involve any Yorkshire puddings. Because it is my own invention, I am sure I  am more committed to it than I would otherwise be.

Essentially, the diet is this:-

No snacks apart from bits of fruit

Breakfast - fruit. Mostly homemade fruit salad with whatever we have in.

Lunch  - microwaved fresh vegetables with predominantly tenderstem broccoli, sliced carrot and leek. Sometimes eaten with a small tin of sardines or mackerel in a tomato sauce.

Dinner (Yorkshire: Tea) Just the same as always. Tonight, for example, it will be steak pie from the butcher shop at Bents Green with homemade chips (American: fries), garden peas and gravy - followed by apple and bramble crumble and custard

Yesterday's lunch

For seven days, I have stuck to this diet and I swear that I have not craved extra food or snacks. Hopefully, gradually, this regime will see my weight falling. I am leaving it a while before I next get back on those righteous scales. At first, my goal is get down to eighteen stones and then we will see where we go from there.... seventeen, sixteen, fifteen - rather like the countdown for a rocket launch... or a skeleton launch.

This is the first diet I have ever been on my life. I know that if I can become less big it will enhance my chances of reaching eighty and seeing my grandchildren reach adolescence. That's big motivation I think.

By the way, my answers to the lung screening caller mean that I am not being put forward for the MRI scan.

Phlegm

Phlegm has featured in this blog before. He is a mysterious artist and muralist - rather like Banksy. Based in Sheffield, he has adorned numerous buildings around the world with his distinctive designs. He works exclusively in monochrome, creating often huge fantastic murals that are characterised by imagined beasts and a sense of strange foreboding.

I had heard that there was a new Phlegm mural on Eldon Street so I wanted to see it with my own eyes. However, Shirley told me that the massive mural I had previously spotted on Headford Street had been replaced with something even better so I wanted to see that too.

Mural on Headford Street and detailed view at the top of this post.

With senior bus pass in hand, I set off into the city centre - remembering my trusty camera. To tell you the truth, the new Eldon Street mural was a little disappointing and parked cars prevented an unhindered view of it. However, the new Headford Street mural certainly has the "wow" factor. It is on the side of the old "Eye Witness" cutlery works building which has been converted into an office and apartment block.

Phlegm has been painting away for two decades now. I guess there are more mythical beasts in his head - just waiting to be let out. It is interesting that he makes no obvious political commentary or protest in his work and nor does he seek to celebrate natural beauty or the real environments we occupy. Fantasy and free expression appear to be all.

Lying on a psychiatrist's couch, I bet that Phlegm would have a fascinating tale to tell and it would be his own tale - not anybody else's.

The new Phlegm mural on Eldon Street

Quiztime

For this special Quiztime, something unusual is about to happen. You are going to be presented with ten questions from a guest quiz setter. She is called Kelly and she resides in the state that is shown in red - Arkansas in the heart of the USA. Let's see how you do. Answers will follow in the "Comments" section as per usual....

⦿

1. Which state in the US has the only diamond mine open to the public where the policy is “finders keepers”? (Clue: See above)

2. What year did Pope Gregory XIII propose changing from the Julian Calendar to the Gregorian Calendar?

a) 1473 b) 1547 c) 1582 d) 2000

3. What was the name of Charles Darwin’s ship?

a) HMS Beetle b) HMS Beagle c) HMS Bagel d) HMS Galapagos

4. Which architect was the founder of the Bauhaus Art School?

a) Walter Gropius b) Mies van der Rohe 

 c) Frank Lloyd Wright e) Louis Sullivan

5. What food widely served in the American south is similar to polenta?

6. Who is this American band leader who disappeared over the English Channel in December of 1944?

a) Benny Goodman b) Tommy Dorsey c) Glenn Miller d) Bob Crosby

7. What traditionally flocks to San Juan Capistrano, California each year in March?

a) swallows b) pilgrims c) monarch butterflies d) hummingbirds

8. What infamous blogger hosts the Laughing Horse Awards each year?

a) Texas Toast b) Yorkshire Pudding 

 c) Boston Baked Beans d) Singapore Sling

9. Both forms of the Black Death are caused by the bacterium yersinia pestis. Which form is transmitted by inhaling bacteria from the infected animal or individual and more deadly?

a) Bubonic Plague b) Pneumonic Plague d) Rhymes With Plague

10. Match the Brontë sister to the novel she wrote.

a) Anne                                                                        1) "Jane Eyre"

b) Charlotte                                            2) "Wuthering Heights"

c) Emily                                    3) "The Tenant of Wildfell Hall"

⦿

That's it! Thank you Kelly!

How did you do?

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All I have for you tonight is six more sunny pictures from yesterday's walk in the borough of  Barnsley. Above - that is St Paul's Church of England church in Monk Bretton. It was built in the 1870s to serve the area's growing population - all connected with the coal mining industry and associated work.

Below - that is The River Dearne moving through its valley in the heart of Barnsley. Once it was little more than a filthy  drain for industry but now it is a pretty clean river and features importantly in the Dearne Valley Country Park. There are even  fish in its waters nowadays...

Above - the view from Monk Bretton Park north to Athersley South. Below  - Manor Farm in Monk Bretton. The farmhouse dates back to the early 17th century so I guess that it is older than the  United States if you overlook the long era of native American habitation before white settlers first arrived with their wicked ways and a fervent desire to conquer the continent....

Above - another image of the Barry Hines Memorial in Barnsley town centre. It was unveiled in 2021 and paid for by public subscription. The sculptor, Graham Ibbeson, gave his services free of charge. I think that it is a mighty fine statue and I am so pleased that the town honoured Barry Hines in this way.

Below - proof that not all English folk live  in Downton Abbeys. Humble terraced  homes beyond the junction of Burton Road and Hope Street in an area called West Green between Cudworth and Monk Bretton...

Barnsley

A boy and a kestrel. They were made famous by the late Barnsley writer - Barry Hines in his novel, "A Kestrel For A Knave". Both Shirley and I met him - she as his practice nurse and me at a political meeting in the Sheffield Trades and Labour Club.  Now there's this impressive memorial statue to Barry Hines in the very heart of Barnsley. I am delighted that he has not been forgotten. Many is the time I read "Kes" with classes of teenagers. It always went down well. A sure fire winner.

Today I caught a train from Sheffield Midland Station to Barnsley. After photographing the statue, I then went back to the Transport Interchange and climbed aboard a Number 32 bus bound for Cudworth which is one of Barnsley's suburban villages - all of which were once associated with coal mining.

Soon I was back out in the sunshine walking to Smithies and then on to Monk Bretton before descending into the valley of The River Dearne. As I passed Oakwell football ground, I could hear the combined voices of thousands of football fans as Barnsley FC took on  Blackpool FC in English League Division One.

At three forty three, I was on a homebound train - sitting at a table with three black women. Two of them - probably in their forties - had been clothes shopping and were well-groomed. Lord knows what they made of Mr Scruffy. The other woman was seventeen and I had witnessed a lot of her phone conversation on the station platform - much talk about "God" and how "God" guided her decisions.

So yes - a nice day out in Barnsley and a good, long walk - ticking off "Geograph" squares I had not previously covered. I was pretty weary when I unlocked our front door at four forty five and noted with the aid of our television that Barnsley had lost by three goals to nil

Remembering Patrick O'Connor by the Dearne Valley Lake. He was born ten days after me and died just two weeks short of his 70th birthday

Remembering Dylan Sharland who was born in 1977 but did not make his 30th birthday. The bench had so many offerings on it that you could 

not sit there to admire the view of The Dearne Valley

Street sign on the street that is still  home to

Monk Bretton Working Men's Club.

Crocuses in Monk Bretton Park speak 

eloquently of this season - springtime!