Video

Someone sent us a video clip. The short film was taken in Tideswell, Derbyshire on August 24th as Frances and Stew emerged from the church. I look at it now and it seems quite far away - like a piece of  history - though it was only seven weeks ago. That day - it was magical - like a fairytale. The sun shone and all was well with the world. It was one of the best and proudest days of my life. If you click in the bottom right hand corner you can make the video "full screen".

Tommy

Once upon a time there was a tomato called Tommy. He grew up on a tomato vine. in a little greenhouse in Sheffield and he had a nose.

None of the other tomatoes had noses. Because of this they sneered at Tommy and called him cruel names like Pinocchio and Gerard Depardieu. Mostly they just called him Mr Nosey after the green Mister Man character created by Roger Hargreaves. 

Not being accepted by the other tomatoes made Tommy very sad. He needed to get away from the torment and besides he did not wish to end up in a salad or sliced and roasted upon a sizzling pizza. 

One evening in early autumn, when all the other tomatoes were sleeping, Tommy detached himself from the vine that had sustained him and crept out of the little greenhouse. He had no idea where he was going.

As Tommy did not have legs, he simply bounced along like a rubber ball. He bounced up the steps into the nearby house. Fortunately, the kitchen door  had been left slightly ajar. 

There was a big man in there. Tommy had previously spotted him mowing the lawn and grumbling to himself. The big man was making tomato soup. Couldn't he hear the screams of the tomatoes as he sliced them?  Tommy was horrified.

Fearing that he might end up in the saucepan with the other tomatoes, he ran for his life.

Just at that moment, the front door of the house opened and the big man's wife stepped over the threshold crying, "Honey! I'm home!"

Tommy grabbed his chance and bounced outside. It was dark but Tommy was not afraid. After all, he was free! Good God Almighty, free at last! He smiled to himself as he bounced along, past the parked cars and the wheelie bins and a prowling ginger cat called Arthur and a scraggy fox called Ferdinand.

No more the hot greenhouse and the bullying peer group! Tommy was free at last and he could make of his life whatever he wanted to in spite of his bulbous nose. And as he bounced down to Endcliffe Park he sang "Tommy Can You Hear Me?" " -  from the rock opera by The Who. It felt so good to be alive and free.

Stones

In our house there are plenty of stones. They are souvenirs of places I or we have been and they were all free. Most of the stones were picked up on beaches but I also have stones from the summits of Ben Nevis, Scafell Pike and Snowdon - the tallest mountains in Scotland, England and Wales.

There's a stone from Maine and another from California, a stone from Iceland and another from Easter Island. Another from New Zealand. However, I am sorry to say that I cannot remember where many of the stones came from. Perhaps I should have labelled them as soon as I brought them home.

I don't just pick up any old stone and I never really plan to collect one. It just happens.

Stones are not made from plastic. They are perfectly natural. They have mostly been around since long before the time of the dinosaurs. Some of them came from the bottoms of primordial seas, some spurted from ancient volcanoes, some were carried by ice and some have been rubbed or shaped by the ocean over several millennia. These are invariably the sort of stones you will find on beaches all over the planet.

Last week, as I walked by The North Sea - along the beach from Whitby to Sandsend, I picked up the four stones that illustrate this post. I imagine that the holes were caused by pieces of grit that ground out tiny hollows before equally tiny pebbles continued that grinding process. The exact circularity of one or two of the holes is, I think, quite amazing.

Do you also have some souvenir stones?

Backtracking

The Teesdale Hotel where I stayed over night

All that I have for you today is some more images from upper Teesdale. You may recall that I was there last month - walking in an unfamiliar landscape on a diamond day. Memories of that lovely ramble have fluttered across my mindscreen quite often since then. 

Thanks to Jenny The Procrastinating Donkey from Nova Scotia who discovered that the reason the farms around Forest-in-Teesdale are painted white is because they belong to The Raby Estate. They are tenanted farms and one of the rental conditions is that white paint. By the way, The Raby Estate covers 50,000 acres and is in the possession of the current Baron Barnard who, like most noble landowning families in England,  can trace his ancestry back to The Norman Conquest. 

At Grassholme Reservoir. The old bridge has been revealed because of maintenance work that required draining the water.

St James the Less Church, Forest with Frith

A view of Ettersgill

Angler in The River Tees . The old farm behind is abandoned.

Celebration

"Happy birthday, Mr. P. Be sure to tell us how you celebrate." - Steve Reed 8/10/19

Well, how does a stout, curmudgeonly Yorkshire geezer celebrate his 66th birthday?

Let me tell you my friends, there was no party. No jelly and ice cream. No Pass the Parcel and no kids crying when they got hooked out of Musical Chairs. No ten shilling notes to be found inside birthday cards and no magicians making sausage dogs from balloons. No, it's not like that at 66.

After a shower, I was dressed by eight thirty. A mug of morning tea. Open birthday cards and a couple of gifts. A new garden gnome and a pair of walking trousers. Wrong waist size I'm afraid.

Clint agreed to take us up to "The Hidden Gem" for breakfast. It is located behind Bents Green Special School and there are always one or two helpers with special needs. I chose eggs florentine. Two perfectly poached eggs on a bed of toasted muffin, spinach, grilled flat mushroom and hollandaise sauce. As delightful as the last time we visited the place.

At midday, I went to Shorts Lane near Dore, donned my boots and walked for an hour. My regular walk just ten minutes from home. I snapped the picture at the top of this post on my way to Totley Bents.

Back home, Shirley and I were soon on a Number 81 bus heading to The Showroom to watch the 2.20 screening of a British independent film called "Bait". Created last year, this quirky black and white film is set in a Cornish fishing village and reveals dramatic tensions between the established community and holidaying incomers. Very enjoyable.

Back home and soon afterwards two "Moonpig" parcels arrived from The Beloved Daughter. Chocolates and a new mug with "For Fox Sake" written upon it with an image of a fox.

Six thirty and we are sitting in Kia's Pastaria on Abbeydale Road. I have vowed to visit this place for ages as it gets such glowing reports in Trip Advisor. The service was excellent and the pasta dishes we chose were indeed very good but somehow that "wow!" factor I had been expecting was missing.

Nine p.m. and I am up at "The Hammer and Pincers" for the Tuesday night quiz. Team member Mike is away in Sicily so it was just me with Mick. We didn't do too well but we knew - for example - that Rocky Balboa's fighting name was "The Italian Stallion". After drinking two pints of Stone's bitter I started to feel rather queasy. All that pasta - it was like it was swelling up in my belly. 

I caught the 88 bus home where Shirley was watching a documentary about junior doctors. I stayed up to watch "Democracy Now" on our local TV station. More outrageous news about Donald Trump's arrogance and his devilish tricks - crudely designed to thwart justice and transparency. Meantime we now have our own mini-Trump employing similar tactics as he attempts to "Get Brexit Done!"...When we get a pet animal "done" we get it neutered!

So that dear blogpeople was my 66th birthday. And today, if John Lennon hadn't been gunned down in 1980, he would have been 79. I wonder what he would have thought of Trump and Johnson.

66

I have made it to 66 and now I'm on Route 66, heading to heaven via 67. Yes folks, 66 years ago today a beautiful baby boy was born in a school house bedroom in a village in the heart of The East Riding of Yorkshire. Dr Baker, the village G.P., was in attendance - but as I was my mother's third son, it was all a bit like shelling peas.

It is said that she completed a newspaper crossword during the delivery. I weighed in at 10 pounds and 10 ounces and my arrival screams could be heard in Brandesburton. When my father first saw me he said, "Christ! That's a big un!" He may have been referring to my general size.

My parents wondered what to call me and several silly names were suggested - including John, Bob, Steve, Tasker, Graham and Keith. However, not wishing to saddle me with a moniker that would burden me for life, they settled on an unusual yet rather sweet name - Yorkshire Pudding - partly because Dr Baker said I looked like one as I bust his weighing scales.

We have a Route 66 in England too. It is the A66 and it heads over The Pennine Hills - linking Scotch Corner in Yorkshire with the Cumbrian market town of Penrith. So as I travel down the road from 66 to 67, I shall sing:-

It winds from Scotch Corner to Penrith 

More than fifty miles forthwith 

Get your kicks on the A66

Now you go through Bowes, 

Appleby, Westmorland 

And old Brough Town won’t make you frown 

You’ll see Greta Bridge 

Temple Sowerby 

Brougham Castle 

Don’t forget Warcop 

Crackenthorpe, Spital, North Stainmore 

Get your kicks on the A66

Advertisement

Our son Ian and his Bosh! chum Henry have just launched their third book. It is called "How To Live Vegan", This one is not a recipe book: instead it is a kind of manual for vegans and would-be vegans. 

Currently the lads are on a tour of the country giving talks on their new book at various venues including Waterstones bookshops. Shirley and I saw them on Saturday afternoon at The University of Sheffield. They were interviewed by Paulette Edwards from BBC Radio Sheffield in front of a hundred and fifty ticket holders.

Linked with this book launch, the Renault car company have customised the black  bodywork of their  Renault Zoe - an electric car that Renault have loaned to them free of charge since last winter. Who knew that the French could be so generous?

The Bosh! phenomenon rolls on. In Great Britain "How To Live Vegan" is available from Waterstones bookshops and from Amazon UK. I forgot to ask Ian when the book will be available in the good ol' USA. LATER...It will be available in the USA from October 15th. See Amazon USA.

Our Ian is on the left, Henry on the right