Addiction

In the course of my life I have been addicted to several things. Cocaine? Heroin? Uppers? Downers? No none of those  things. My addictions have been more mundane.

Once I was addicted to cigarettes and smoked twenty to thirty a day but finally, in early 1988, I managed to chuck the habit for good simply by deciding to become a non-smoker. My determination was bigger and more powerful than the insidious effects of nicotine upon my brain. I have not smoked another cigarette since that January morning when I destroyed my last full pack of Benson & Hedges, breaking up the cancer sticks and watching the golden tobacco hidden within fall into our dustbin with the rest of the rubbish.

And I was addicted to the British soap opera "EastEnders" from it's very first episode on February 19th  1985 until the summer of 2013. That's when I finally decided it was taking up too much of my life and the commitment was plainly ridiculous. I have never watched a single episode since then. A bit like giving up cigarettes.

Once I was down at our local pub four or five nights a week supping the elixir of life - "Tetley's Bitter". Each time I would drink between three and five pints. I just could not get enough of the stuff and Lord knows how much dosh I spent on my habit. Today, I have not given up drinking beer entirely but my input is massively reduced. On Sunday, I had four pints at the quiz in "The Robin Hood" but I haven't had any beer since and that's been story most weeks in the last two years.

I have had other addictions. I was addicted to reading and studying when I was at university. When I discovered Indian curry meals, I  could not get enough of them. Nowadays I seem to be addicted to walking and taking pictures as well as  blogging but I am cool about that and have no immediate plans to give up. These addictions seem healthy enough.

And while I am on the subject of addiction, let me refer to the blogpost I wrote last week about Shirley, my "Wife". I neglected to mention that she is an addict. The problem began over a decade ago now and gradually the addiction has got worse. I am at my wit's end and have no idea how I can help her to give up and get clean again.

I am talking about smartphone addiction. When she got her first smartphone, she was able to handle it pretty well but gradually the addiction has grown. 

I get up in the morning and ask if she wants a cup of tea. She's there on the front room sofa, glued to the smartphone.

She goes out to the greenhouse to potter with her plants and seedlings. I look outside and she's standing there in the greenhouse - on her smartphone..

I am cooking in the kitchen, stirring this and checking that. She brings me her smartphone to look at - a meme, a photograph, a message but I am a non-addict and so I am not attuned to this smartphone obsession. I never want to know what people are looking at in the depths of their little screens. It is all so alien  to me.

As I look around the world - in  parks, on buses, in pubs or cafes, outside Phoebe's school, at football matches, I see the smartphone addiction everywhere. It has swept across the planet like fentanyl or something . So many people are completely hooked and do not seem able to function without checking out their bloody smartphones every five minutes. 

I would be happy to feature in an anti-smartphone advertising campaign. The uniting slogan might well be "Not So Smart!". I wondered what A.I. imaging might make of that:-

Ardsley

 

A lovely sunny day was promised and indeed it came true. 

Time for a good, long walk with my camera over my shoulder in unfamiliar territory.

I drove north up the M1 motorway to Junction 41 - but from there I wasn't heading east  into Wakefield. My destination was just to the west - the village of East Ardsley. Beforehand I had checked out Google Streetview and planned to park close to St Michael's Church.

With boots double tied to prevent the laces from unravelling, I checked out the churchyard before embarking on the circular route I had planned with the aid of this Ordnance Survey map:-

The walk took me under the motorway then west along Blind Lane past Haigh Hall Spring Wood before circumnavigating Ardsley Reservoir which you can see left of centre. Then along Westerton Road and back round to the church - the symbol for which you might be able to spot just to the east of the word "Ardsley".

I had some sustenance on my way. In the reservoir  car park I bought a small vanilla cone from the ice cream van and from the "Tesco Express" on Westerton Road I bought a pint of milk which I guzzled while sitting on the wall outside.

I felt happily weary as I drove back down the motorway, listening to radio news of a horrible assault upon two Jewish men down in London. Apparently, it involved a  knife and an attacker with a history of mental illness and that second fact made me wonder why what happened was judged to be a terrorist attack - but hey, I'm just a simple guy. What do I know?

The first picture and the images below should  give you some sense of both today's walk and the weather that drew me out there.

Storage

Punch and Judy with their baby

In the past few years, I have frequently received warnings about my Hotmail e-mail account. I have been told that my storage capacity is almost full and on several occasions I have deleted all my "junk" messages and "deleted items" as well as selected e-mails received in previous months and years.

However, what I had neglected to do was to properly  investigate my "Sent Items" and do some brutal felling in that particular forest.

I have had a Hotmail account since 2007 and today  I discovered I had over a thousand "Sent Items" in accessible storage  - some of them with images or documents attached. By getting rid of the majority of these I will be bound  to free up storage capacity but that is more easily said than done.

Those e-mails go back nineteen years and document moments in my personal history. It is not going to be as easy to delete them as I first imagined.

There are e-mails about our Frances starting university, around the deaths of Shirley's mother, my mother, my two late brothers. E-mails sent from India, Thailand and Easter Island, e-mails that speak of my increasing disgruntlement with teaching before I retired. E-mails about house buying and selling and so on and so forth.

No. It won't be easy at all. I guess I will just tackle it in stages. Of course I do not wish to get rid of significant messages or those that have become like historical records. Earlier today I sent one back to Frances who is currently on a work-related training conference in Copenhagen. Soon afterwards, she got back to me...

"Thanks for this. Brings back lots of memories. So long ago now!" 

To me 2007 does not really seem "so long ago now" but when I stop and think, I was just a young lad of 53 back then.  In many ways the world was a different place. Apple i-phones had only just come on the market and very few people had them until 2010. It was the year in which Britain's Labour PM Tony Blair was replaced by Gordon Brown and the best selling album in Great Britain was Amy Winehouse's "Back to Black".  Manchester United won The Premier League and over in America mentally ill Seung-Hui Cho shot 32 people dead at Virginia Tech in Blacksburg, Virginia. 

I guess that I am more drawn to hoarding than to minimalism and in that sense I already find the prospect of wading through all those "Sent Items" with an axe quite daunting but as I said before, I do not need to do the culling in one go. Step by step. "That's the way to do it!" as Punch said to Judy.

Bugged

King Charles III & Queen Camilla arriving in America earlier today

WHITE HOUSE BEDROOM CONVERSATIONS

The Queen's Bedroom in The White House

In The Queen's Bedroom

Charles Oh good heavens that man is insufferable!

Camilla You can say that again my beloved. Did you notice the odour?

Charles Oh yes mehbooba. It has most certainly got worse.

Camilla They say he is incontinent.

Charles I read that on "The Meidas Touch". I believe he wears incontinence pants. But nobody knows as he never "comes clean" about his medical records!

Camilla (tittering at the joke) And as for his trophy wife. Oh my God!

Charles You mean Big Barbie? I simply cannot understand a word that woman says. And that suits me fine. Can she speak English?  I just nod and smile as Dear Mama taught me.

Camilla Remember when he had that royal visit back in 2019? He tried to upstage your mother.

Charles So ignorant. Pushing past to inspect the troops. Walking in front of her. Unheard of. Even Froggie Macron knows better.

Camilla One's tolerance is sorely tested.

Charles Did you hear our incorrigible host spouting that nonsense about what he calls "windmills"? He doesn't even realise how vital wind turbines have become in helping the world to move away from fossil fuels.

Camilla Yes I heard him... Anyway, it's time for bed Charlie Boy.

Charles Will Bunny be going down the burrow tonight my beloved?

Camilla Oh Chaz - does he have to?

Charles Yes my dear. It's one's royal prerogative!

(They giggle)

⦿

In the Presidential Master Bedroom

Presidential Master Bedroom in The White House

#47 I think he really likes me. I consider him to be a close friend. Maybe we are the best friends the world has ever seen. Many people are talking about it.

First Lady You mean lick Jeffrey woz? ...I diz not lick Camelhair. She sez she hez refusing any beauty surgery plastic. Vot is wrong wizz hare?

#47 I don't understand what you are saying Ivana. Don't the people  speak English in Slovakia?

First Lady Eets Slovenia! Ow many times muzz I see eets Slovenia! Anna my name eez not Ivana. Shee eez dead!

#47 Dead? When? She was the greatest wife any president had in the last 450 years. (He burps) Anyway Marla  what's on the agenda for tomorrow? I've  err forgotten.

First Lady The King ee will be a speaking to The Zenate and The Horse of Repre-something.

#47 I guess he'll be praising me and how I ended thirty seven wars and how my golden ballroom will be bigger and better than the one they have at Buck and Ham Palace. in London And how our economy is so great... Anyway, how come he got to be a king? I wanna be a king too. Do you think he'll give me his kingship like the nice Venezuelan lady gave me her Nobel Peace Prize?

First Lady No way The Donald. He can't do zat. An' vot about ze "No Kings" protests?

#47 That's just fake news. Didn't happen. Didn't happen.

First Lady Anyway. Time for bed. Will ve do rumpy pumpy? It hez bin a long, long time.

#47 Not tonight Ivanka, I got some truths and memes  to put out on Truth Social. I'll be quite a while. America first! America first! (He emits a resounding fart)

First Lady (sighs) Oh not again. Eets every flockin' night! I am gonna my own suite. Again! Who readz your flockin' truths anyway?

(She storms out , slamming the door behind her, as #47 starts up his presidential laptop. He has another long night ahead of him)

Ashford

 

It was already evening time when we stepped outside "The Ashford Arms" in Ashford-in-the-Water, Derbyshire. Rather than heading straight home, we had a little stroll round that beautiful gem of a village in the heart of The Peak District.

We had been to the old hostelry for Sunday dinner, using a voucher that our daughter, Frances, had kindly given to us for Christmas. Shirley had roast beef which she typically insisted had to be "well done" and I had rump of lamb. It was all pretty good and our waitress - Georgia - was lovely. With her blue eyes and plaited blonde hair, she looked  like she had just arrived from some remote Norwegian fjord.

Normally, I slave away in our kitchen on a Sunday afternoon to produce a nice family meal but Frances is away in Denmark for a few days at a work-related training conference in Copenhagen and Stewart's parents were up in Sheffield to help take care of the mischievous sprites often referred to as our granddaughters.

Ashford sits by The River Wye which flows down to  Bakewell from Buxton. The water is clear and the old Sheepwash Bridge that crosses it  was made from local limestone in the seventeenth century. Here sheep were literally washed in the river right up to the 1930s. Traditionally, they were held in that stone pen to the left of the bridge.

We chatted to a British Asian couple who had driven up from Leicester for the day. They were sitting on a bench, watching the water and remembering days gone by when they often visited The Peak District. They seemed to be at peace in their contentment. Leicester would be an hour's drive back. Proportionately, that city's Asian population is bigger than in any other city in Britain - around 47%.  I joked with them about the demise of Leicester City Football Club.

But for us Sheffield was just twenty minutes away and we had to get back so that I could join the two Michaels for the Sunday night quiz at "The Robin Hood". 

It had made a pleasant change to enjoy a Sunday dinner that had been made for me and not by me and in the evening light it had been delightful to remind ourselves of  the quaint loveliness of Ashford-in-the-Water.

Holy Trinity Church, Ashford dates from the twelfth century with later additions and repairs

Amateurs

The United States of America. Such an amazing country. So much ingenuity. So much endeavour. A land that stretches from The Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific  and within its boundaries there is endless goodwill, so much optimism, so much kindness. It is home to 349 million people making it the third most populous country on the planet.

With all of that in mind, what puzzles me is how can it be that the government of that great country is led by a bunch of amateurs, ill-qualified for their roles and often guilty of cretinous, toadying behaviour. Surely, surely, America contains hundreds of better qualified, more suitably experienced, perceptive and industrious citizens who would do a far better job than the amateurs  who currently occupy leadership roles within the US government.

Let's take a look at just five  random members of the current cabinet:-

Scott Bessent - Secretary of The Treasury

After Trump was elected president in 2016, Bessent donated $1 million to Trump's 2017 presidential inaugural committee. In 2023 and 2024, he donated more than $1 million to Trump's 2024 presidential campaign. In February 2024, Bessent hosted a fundraiser in Greenville, South Carolina, that raised nearly $7 million for Trump's campaign. In relation to his past tax responsibilities, Bessent wilfully used loopholes and "write offs" to dodge payments of up to two million dollars. This came out in his confirmation hearing in the US Senate.

Pete Hegseth - Secretary of Defence (aka "Secretary of War")

For ten years, Hegseth was a regular contributor to the right wing TV channel - Fox News, often spouting off about military matters. No doubt it was that media presence that led him to his current job. His character was severely questioned in his confirmation hearing for he has a history of drunkenness and womanising. Senator and former war hero, Mark Kelly, said this of Hegseth, "He is the most unqualified defense secretary in history".

Robert F. Kennedy Jr - Secretary of Health and Human Services

When he was a teenager, Kennedy was expelled from two boarding schools. Some Kennedy family members regarded him as the "ringleader" of a pack of spoiled, rich kids who called themselves the "Hyannis Port Terrors", engaging in vandalism, theft, and drug use. His first cousin Caroline Kennedy later blamed Kennedy for leading other members of their family "down the path of drug addiction", calling him a "predator". At Harvard, Kennedy continued to use heroin and cocaine, often with his brother David, earning a reputation that has been described as a "pied piper" and "drug dealer".  Later in his life, Kennedy began experiencing severe short and long-term memory loss and mental fog in 2010. In a 2012 divorce court deposition, he attributed neurological issues to "a worm that got into my brain and ate a 

portion of it and then died"

Linda McMahon - Secretary of Education

McMahon made a lot of money with her husband Vince by advancing wrestling events in America, having previously promoted other sports. When Trump appointed her to the role she now occupies,he said he wanted her to close down the department - "I want her to put herself out of a job." She used to refer to AI as A-One. An error-littered letter she sent to Harvard University about wokeness and curriculum concerns was returned to her with all of her many grammatical and spelling mistakes corrected. 

Markwayne Mullin - Secretary of Homeland Security

Mullin is from Oklahoma and ran his family's plumbing business until he decided to enter politics. During a Senate committee hearing in 2023, he challenged Teamsters Union President Sean O'Brien to a physical fight, 

telling him "Quit the tough guy act in these senate hearings. You know 

where to find me. Any place, Any time cowboy". Mullin has a reputation for angry outbursts ad aggression. He received an associate plumbing degree in 2010 from Oklahoma State University Institute of Technology. After the fatal shooting of Alex Pretti by federal ICE agents in Minneapolis, Mullin 

called Pretti a "deranged individual" in a Fox News interview.

⦿

Currently Trump's unnecessary war with Iran still rages. Nobody seems to know what Trump's aims are and Trump doesn't seem to know either. Perhaps he had better ask hiss boss - Netanyahu to explain. In the meantime who are America's peace negotiators? Why, Trump's son-in-law Jared Kushner and a former business friend from the world of real estate - Steve Witkoff. Both men are supremely unqualified to perform such difficult diplomacy. They lack the moral compass, political experience and intelligence that  characterised the work of Joe Biden's Secretary of State - Anthony Blinken.

And as for James David Vance - let's not go there.

I guess that the preponderance of amateurs at the top of the US government is unsurprising when you consider that the oaf who appointed them is himself an amateur in the political sphere. He was a property developer who courted plenty of controversy and oversaw some spectacular failures in that field and then later he chaired a reality TV series. Hardly the perfect background for someone who is charged with leading one of the most significant and powerful nations on Earth. It should come as no surprise that his knowledge is as shaky as his judgement.

Amateurs - all of them! Would you want amateurs running a hospital, a school or a bread factory? Of course not - so why is it okay for a bunch of amateurs to "lead" what was once known as the greatest nation on Earth?

Bluebells

Well I didn't got for a long walk in the countryside today. Instead, I headed for Ecclesall Woods - just a mile from this keyboard. On Wednesday afternoon - as I was waiting in the local school's playground to pick up Phoebe, a woman told me she had been to the woods that morning and the bluebells were reaching their peak - a little earlier in the year than usual.

And that is why I headed back to the woods as I have done most years just to see the English bluebells - violet blue hazes beneath the trees.  They do not last for long. I have often tried to photograph them but I never seem to capture a definitive bluebell image that wholly satisfies me. The shots that accompany this blogpost are the best of today's crop.

Nine years years ago I wrote a poem called "In Bluebell Time". One or two long-time visitors may remember that I posted it before but most of the people who come to "Yorkshire Pudding" today will never have seen it so I am taking the liberty of posting it again:-

In Bluebell Time

They came back.
A haze of indigo, purple and violet blue
Swirling across that secret glade
Like morning mist
Drifting the mottled shadows
Under gnarled and timeless trees
Where invisible thrushes carolled
In the heart of those fairy woods.
And it was lovely and it was blue.
Tumbling down to the brook
And all along the margins of the path.
I bent and held a single stem against my palm
Silently pledged no hurt nor harm
To see them dangling like drops of rain
To see the blueness once again.
Yet they made no ringing or jingling sound
As they reclaimed their ancient ground.
What joy and truth was thereby found
To see the bluebells all around.

And a few years before that I wrote a different poem in which bluebells feature. A poem that harks back to World War I:- 

1916

I left you in the bluebell time
Afore that summer's foliage
Carpeted those paths we walked
In shadow.
I clasped you by a gnarled beech tree
And felt your urgent heart
Against my chest -
And the lovely bluebells
Hung like mist
And life seemed like a story
Of hope and yes, of love...
But I left you in the bluebell time
For Cannock Chase
And khaki games of war
No bluebell kisses
And no words to say
Those awful things we saw.

Reading those poems again, it's kind of weird. Like reading a stranger's poetry but I swear that it was me. I have always had a "thing" for bluebells - more than any other flower I know.

Bananas

Our weather has been gorgeous these past few days. I was drawn out into our garden where I made a little patio area next to the greenhouse. We had several stone slabs from our across-the-road neighbours - Janet and Phil who were having their own garden professionally upgraded. It was nice to repurpose some of their stone.

I also used some smaller slabs to reposition one of our garden benches in a sunny spot further along the hedgerow,

Both of these jobs were made tricky because of the sloping nature of our garden. The little patio needed to be flat and so did the stone footings for the bench. Levelling out was a bit of a challenge so I needed my spirit levels, a bag of sand and a bag of 10mm gravel but I got there in the end and it was nice to be outside working.

After our evening meal I was out again, repairing an old wooden bench that I bought Shirley for her fiftieth birthday. It had become wonky partly because of its age and continuous exposure to the elements and partly because I have often moved it on my own when cutting grass or sweeping up its regular position.

We were going to dispose of that bench but one day I thought to myself - "We can get a few more years out of that old seat if I can just address the wonkiness."

With wood glue, my electric drill, screws and small L-shaped brackets, I think I have made it stable once more. The glue is still drying right now so tomorrow I will hopefully confirm that my repair work has been successful.

The next job will be to paint it. I bought some good quality garden wood paint when I was last in our B&Q superstore. B&Q is the biggest D.I.Y. chain in Great Britain. I guess it's very similar to Home Depot outlets in America or Bunnings Warehouse in Australia.

Maybe I'll do some of the painting tomorrow but I rather fancy the idea of a country walk with my camera - making sure that I capitalise on this good weather.

⦿

In Yorkshire Pudding health news:-

1.  Recent bowel screening - clear!

2.  Recent diabetic eye screening test - "No signs of diabetic retinopathy."

3. New dental appointment made for Monday. For weeks I have been managing pain and the replacement filling I had last month has clearly not solved the problem. The issue must be with another tooth and there is now some gum swelling in that area. 

4. Efforts to reduce my weight with the aid of "Mounjaro" have been reasonably successful. I have lost over two stones - about thirty pounds since last August - but I want to go lower before I come off "Mounjaro" and instead start to rely on my own will power along with  better awareness of ups and downs in my weight. Previously I never ever  weighed myself. 

5. My high blood pressure - discovered via a general health check in the autumn of 2024 - is now being effectively addressed with a stable cocktail of anti-hypertensive medication. Thankfully, my  numbers are now within the normal range.

⦿

Almost finally - about the image at the top. Discovered today in our fruit bowl - two small bananas that are conjoined like siamese twins. I cannot remember ever seeing such a thing before. As Louis Armstrong sang, "And I think to myself/What a wonderful world!"

⦿

A week ago - our Ian appeared on the front page of the London "Standard".  He is on 

the right, helping to advertise a start-up competition sponsored by AXA Insurance. 

Wife

 

That's my missus - Shirley. We got married in the same year as Prince Charles and Lady Diana Spencer - 1981 - so we will be celebrating our forty fifth wedding anniversary in October.

She was a young nurse when I first met her and I was a slightly older young teacher. We have stuck together through thick and thin, including health and money issues, raising two wonderful children and now jointly experiencing the special joys of grandparenthood.

Let me say this about Shirley. She was a brilliant, devoted mother and is now a wonderful grandmother. The little ones love her completely. She is practical and attentive when it comes to their toileting, laundry and emotional needs. Partly because of her own rural upbringing with a mother who was a stay-at-home farmer's wife and partly because of her old-fashioned nurse training, she is unflappable, pragmatic and naturally caring.

All of our married life, she has taken charge of the laundry - the washing, the drying, the ironing, the folding, the putting away. She would not have had it any other way, considering it to be a wife, mother and grandmother's duty.

More than once she has said to me that if she hadn't been a nurse, she would have loved to run a launderette. It's not that I was ever against doing my fair share of the laundering but Shirley would have been very resistant to such an arrangement. She needed to do it all herself and as well as recognising my good fortune in that regard, I am enormously grateful for all she has done for me.

John Wesley, the co-founder of Methodism, is credited with the observation that  "cleanliness is next to godliness". In that respect he would have approved of Shirley's personal habits. He might also have admired the fact that she grew up just four miles from where he was born and raised in Epworth, North Lincolnshire. In fact, that is where she went to school.

Through almost forty five years of marriage, her personal hygiene has been remarkable. No foul odours or evidence of bodily processes - ever. Showers or baths every day. No smelly socks or noxious armpits. I wish I could claim the same about me. I have tested her tolerance at times. 

One morning, about ten years ago, as daylight was filtering into our bedroom and I was stirring from my slumber, she said, "I think I am going to start a new Women's Institute... There are plenty of women around my age who would get a lot from it."

Ten years later, that Women's Institute group meets monthly in Banner Cross Methodist Church. It has forty regular members and there is a waiting list for others who might wish to join it. They have enjoyed so much fun together, so many educational evenings and they have raised a lot of money for worthy local charities. However, I wonder how many of those women realise that their thriving W.I. branch began with an idea that was hatched in a lightening bedroom a decade ago.

Shirley is a special woman with many friends. Last month, she celebrated her sixty seventh birthday and received more than forty birthday cards.  She has "been there" for many of those friends, standing by them in times of personal crisis, providing a kind, listening ear.

The other man's grass may always be greener but I know that I was lucky to have found Shirley back in December 1979, lucky that she agreed to marry me, lucky that she gave birth to our children, lucky that she stood by me through the years in the full knowledge that I am not not the easiest man to live with. I have many  faults but she understands I cannot stop being who I am.  And these are the principal reasons why I still love her.

Quiztime

 

Today's quiz requires contestants to look at the profile pictures of ten members of the blogging community. I guess we all develop our own favourites and regular visiting habits so it could be argued that this quiz is a little unfair but as an awkward teenager might say - I'm not bothered! Who are these people? Either give the blogger's name or the name of their blog. As usual, answers will appear in the comments section.  

⦿

1) This mature woman lives in Berkshire and was 

last year's "Blogger of the Year"

2) This jolly fellow lives in North Wales with his dogs and cats.

3) This German lady has a better command of 

English than most native speakers.

4) This Isle of Man resident looks like a Japanese anime character.

5) A mature Canadian blogger from Red Deer, 

Alberta - though he hasn't always lived there.

6) Mostly famous for owning a parrot called Marco, this school 

bursar lives in Florence, South Carolina with her husband 

Gregg who also serves Marco.

7) A resident of The Isle of Lewis, Scotland and a true gentleman blogger.

8) What a great writer this woman is - creating intimate 

blogposts in a small settlement called Lloyd in Florida.

9) This gourmet, artist and dog lover splits his year between 

Brighton in Sussex, England and a hamlet in south-western France

10) Like me this chap is a Yorkshire pudding and he also 

resides in Sheffield - though I have never met him.

⦿

That's all folks! How did you do?

Peace

 

The title of this blogpost is "Peace" but not that soothing, tranquil state that is the opposite of war. No indeedy, the "Peace" that the title refers to is Charles Peace, a criminal,  who is associated with this Sheffield suburb - Banner Cross - where I have lived for the past thirty seven years.

I was reminded of this notorious man's past existence when we visited The Emergency Services Museum near the city centre on April 5th. In that old building there are Victorian prison cells and in one of them Charles Peace was once detained. On the tiled wall there was a picture of him - "The Banner Cross Murderer" and "The Notorious Burglar". There was also a "Wanted " poster from the 1870s.

Peace was no hero. He was a violent scumbag. An habitual burglar who brought misery to many people's lives. He also preyed on women he fancied and frequently carried a gun.

His crimes were not just limited to this city of his birth for he got up to his tricks in other places - including Liverpool, Manchester, Hull and South London. He may have imagined that his life was charmed and that he could get away with anything like some sort of superhero.

In the early 1870's he became obsessed with a woman called Katherine Dyson whose devoted husband was a civil engineer called Arthur Dyson. Peace's constant harassment became so unbearable that the couple moved to a new home here at Banner Cross, hoping that Peace would not find them.

They were sadly wrong because soon after arriving Peace appeared one evening. It was July 1st 1876.  He confronted Katherine  by the outside toilets and upon hearing the commotion Arthur Dyson followed Peace down a nearby alleyway. Peace took out his gun and shot his pursuer dead. Then he fled to Hull where his wife lived.

Peace threatening Mrs Dyson at Banner Cross

It took a good while for the forces of law to track Charles Peace down but he was discovered in Peckham, London and brought back to Sheffield.

Following his trial in  February 1879 he was hanged in Armley Jail in Leeds. He was forty six years old. He had also killed a Manchester policeman during an attempted  burglary just a month after he had killed Arthur Dyson.

Oh yes, Charles Peace was a bad man  who earned his execution. If anyone ever asks you to "give Peace a chance", please think of him.  Why on earth he ever gained legendary status in some ballads, books and films is beyond my reckoning. He was no Robin Hood, that's for sure.

Sunday

Pictures of Sheffield I gathered today - Sunday - after catching a bus into the city centre. I walked the 2.5 miles home home principally for the exercise. I will add some extra words tomorrow to explain these images and respond to any comments that may have been left in the interim.

Waiting for an 88 bus at Hunter's Bar. The Sunday timetable 

provides a reduced service as I am sure it does in most cities.

A colourful kiosk at the bottom of The Moor which is the 

biggest shopping street in Sheffield city centre.

This abstract sculpture sits outside the now redundant Manpower 

Services building. It is called The Crucible and was commissioned in 

1979 at a cost of £30,000. The artist was Judith Bluck and at first 

it was known as The Crucible Fountain. It sat in a pool and water 

cascaded down it. At night it was colourfully illuminated,

Not far from The Crucible sculpture, I spotted this section 

of construction site fencing that I have photographed 

before but yesterday it was interestingly illuminated 

by sunshine reflected from plate glass.

This corner street art references a Sheffield musician called 

Richard Hawley. Perhaps his most memorable self-penned 

song is "Tonight the Streets Are Ours".

Further along Ecclesall Road, I spotted this damaged plate 

glass window. Presumably it evidences an act of wanton 

vandalism but I thought that the pattern left behind 

was quite appealing - like a glass cobweb or something.

A corner shop is being redeveloped and  on the construction 

fencing, I spotted this piece of art which presumably refers to 

Melania Trump's main source of income. My apologies 

to any Melania Trump fans out there in the blogosphere 

- such as Bob Slatten in Camden, South Carolina.

More street art. This time on Snuff Mill Lane. The slightly 

unconvincing image is of the Sheffield musician Jarvis Cocker. 

His song "Common People" with his band Pulp became 

a significant hit in  1995/96.

I returned to the Hunter's Bar suburb where there was a street 

market in progress on Sharrowvale Road. I used to live close 

to Neill Road and have always wondered why they added an 

extra "l" to my name. The cat says "Miaow!"

Here's the busy street market on Sharrowvale Road. The 

event happens four or five times a year and as you can 

see is pretty popular with Sheffielders.

A Salvation Army silver band were playing well-known tunes and I 

thought that Kylie Tai in Sydney, Australia might like this image 

because of her long association with The Salvation Army. It is 

an organisation  that does a lot of good work in different guises.

Before climbing up the long hill back home, I called in at The 

Buddhist Meditation Centre cafe for a hearty bowl of leek and 

potato soup. Across the road I got an unusual view of the 

old park keeper's house by the entrance to Endcliffe Park.

⦿

And then it was back home to prepare the Sunday dinner. Roast pork this time.

And oh, here's an update on the Skote Outdoors story. Matty and heavily pregnant Kelly have now packed up and left their remote island with their two dogs. They are staying in a small house just outside the city of St John's. Although they still plan a "home birth", they now have quick access to maternity services. This comes as a huge relief to their many online followers - and not a moment too soon.