Ants

Google Earth is improving its coverage of our planet - with those aerial photograph zones extended to even include the humble city of Sheffield. Clues in these close-up aerial views lead me to deduce that the satellite coverage of Sheffield was compiled in the summer of 2004 – probably in August.

And so now you can zoom right in on our humble semi-detached home on our humble street in our humble suburb of humble Sheffield. From this distance, people in the streets appear like ants casting ant-like shadows. Perhaps that’s all we are with our antennae and receptors, most of us worker ants, tending the larval ants while older ants decline into memory.

In these streets and houses and gardens we eke out our dreams, most of us quietly imagining that the spotlight of the world is focussed upon us but maybe we’re all just ants on a great antheap, connecting with other ants, busying ourselves day by day with close-up events of the here and now, rarely zooming away to look at the wider picture.

Traditional

As suggested by Alkelda, here's a reworking of the traditional song "Cape Cod Girls" covered by Dan Zanes. Actually this song has many forms and the chorus normally refers to South Australia. All join in now! One...two...three...

Farewell to Spurn Point

Yorkshiremen ain't got no fears
heave away, haul away
They comb their hair behind their ears
They’re men who will amaze ya!

Chorus:
So run away you Lanc’shire boys,
Run away, far away
Run away don’t make a noise
We’re the men who will amaze ya!

Yorkshiremen ain’t got no stress
heave away , haul away
What’s less is more what’s more is less
Our lads they will amaze ya!

Yorkshire folk don’t need no pills,
heave away, haul away
They eat pigs’ ears and codfish gills
Our diet would amaze ya!

Yorkshire gals ain't got no care,
heave away, haul away
They run around almost bare
Their knickers would amaze ya!

*The photo shows Spurn Point/Spurn Head at the entrance to the Humber Estuary which is the mouth through which most of the water in Yorkshire's river system eventually flows.

Yorkshiremen

Yorkshire has been the homeland of so many great people. The recent death of "Fiery" Fred Trueman - a cricketing legend and a typical Yorkshireman - led me to think about other great men and women who have emerged from this paradise on Earth. My top ten would include the charismatic football manager Brian Clough, cricketer Geoff Boycott, sculptress Barabara Hepworth, inventor of stainless steel - Harry Brearley, gifted writer of "Wuthering Heights" fame - Emily Bronte, artist David Hockney, slavery reformer William Wilberforce, poet Ted Hughes, pop music trailblazer - Jarvis Cocker, failed parliamentary plotter Guy Fawkes... but my number one Yorkshire hero of all time has to be Captain James Cook (1728 -1779). His life details are summarised below.

Cook was born in a small village near Middlesbrough, Yorkshire, and learnt his trade in small sailing ships known as 'cats', in which he journeyed up and down the coast from the Tyne to the Thames. He later served with the Royal Navy, and in 1768 won the appointment of commander of the Endeavour.

In 1769 Venus was due to pass in front of the Sun, a rare event that can be used to measure the distance of the Sun from the Earth. The Royal Society decided to send astronomers to the Pacific to record the transit of the planet, and enlisted the Navy's help. The Navy agreed, as long as one of their officers was in charge of the boat.

Cook was chosen as commander, and the Whitby-built HM Endeavour was acquired and fitted out. After calling in on Tahiti to witness the transit of Venus, Cook sailed down to 40º latitude but found there was no land.

In accordance with his instruction he turned and headed towards New Zealand, which had previously been 'discovered' by the Dutchman Abel Tasman. During the rest of the voyage Cook and his crew charted New Zealand, sailed the east coast of Australia and rediscovered the Torres Strait.

In 1772-5, not satisfied by his previous exploits, he made a second voyage of discovery, this time to chart the Atlantic.

Cook was a practical seaman, who understood the importance of vitamin C to maintain the health of his crew, but on his third and final journey, in command of the Resolution, he did not deal so well with the Hawaiians he encountered when he landed on their island .

Misjudging the situation, he took their king hostage, after some hostility. Then during a brawl in another part of the island, one of the Hawaiian chiefs, Chief Kalimu, was killed by one of Cook's party. News of this reached the king just as Captain Cook was leading his hostage down to the Resolution.

The Hawaiians had by now started to distrust Cook's intentions, and attacked the English group. Cook remained aloof from the fighting, until one warrior crept up behind him and hit him on the head with a large club. Other warriors then joined in attacking him with daggers, causing him to fall in the water. Cook managed to get his head up again, but another warrior gave him a shattering blow - and Cook went down for the last time.

Well those are my alltime greatest Yorkshiremen - including a couple of women. I considered including Arthur Clewley but quickly rejected that absurd idea. Can anyone suggest any other great Yorkshire people I might have missed out?

Renaissance

So there I was hanging from the apple tree, as dead as honour in high places. A magpie had perched on my shoulder, defecating white slime all down my back. Surprisingly, I was still conscious, floating outside my body, inspecting the vessel of flesh and bone that had carried me through the years.

But who was that at the back gate? She seemed familiar with her greenish pallor and her flowing medieval garments. Yes. It was Alkelda the Gleeful of “Saints and Spinners” fame. She was cradling a small silver vial. She proceeded past the compost bins and the comfrey plot to where I was swinging like Dick Turpin. The magpie that was now perusing my jelly eyes flew off to the chimney pot.

Alkelda chanted some ancient incantation and tossed the contents of the silver vial all over my front. I guess it was just water – some kind of holy water. “Water of life! Heal this erring son!” She stood on the picnic table and unfastened the thick sisal rope that had killed me just as my conscious spirit returned to fill my body like a tide moving over a beach. I was alive again! I twisted my head back and forth and pinched myself as Alkelda disappeared back through the gateway.

“Come back Alkelda!” I yelled but she was gone like a departing rainbow.

Back in the house my wife said, “Where’ve you been? You’ve missed all the quarter final and what’s that red mark on your neck?”

“Oh it’s just those bloody brambles again!”

“Want a cup of tea?”

“Thanks love.”

“Do you wanna know the score? The match?”

“Why what was it? Lost on penalties again I bet.”

“Not this time honey. It was England 4 Portugal 0! That Sven is a master tactician and motivator. Looks like we’re playing France in the semis… Should be a walk over. Walcott scored a hat trick and Michael Carrick played his usual progressive midfield role… it was brilliant! Want a biscuit?”

Gutted

World Cup Quarter Final

Arrrrrgh! It's happened again! England lose on penalties! The Portugese team looked pretty ordinary all afternoon and even though we were a man down, England created the better goalmouth chances by far. Owen Hargreaves was again a revelation - full of energy and commitment. Our back four were also brilliant. But Lampard and even Gerrard were disappointing today. England's army of fans deserve more than this - more than our uninspirational Swedish manager could provide - in spite of his barrowloads of money. In the end, I would have to say that he has been a dismal failure and I am glad to see the back of him. It's so frustrating. We have so much talent and yet in this World Cup it was never properly harnessed. Like most of the English nation I am well and truly gutted (see above with apologies to the squeamish!) and I'm just going up the garden to string myself up from the apple tree! Farewell cruel world!

Party

When Yorkshire Pudding won £7.5 million pounds on the UK National Lottery, he decided to host a party specifically for all the bloggers he had encountered on the web in the previous twelve months. All transport and accommodation costs were paid for and Mr Pudding even arranged to cover wage costs with the employers of any bloggers who were actually in work.

The party was held in a big marquee in Endcliffe Park, Sheffield. It was last used by the Beckhams when they threw their celebrity pre-World Cup bash in Sawbridgeworth. On the day of the party, YP waited nervously inside the tent, checking that everything was ready. On stage, Bruce Springsteen was tuning up. "Turn that f*!?*!g row down!" yelled Mr Pudding as he surveyed the canapes and the free drinks bar, "I'm The Boss now matey!"

Then the guests started arriving. Arthur Clewley was the first in. Wheelchair-bound with yellow drool dripping from his chin, his long-suffering wife Elsie pushed him straight to the bar where he ordered a Babycham and a pint of Irish stout for Elsie.

Looking surprisingly unjetlagged, but fresh in from Seattle, Brad the Gorilla bounced into the marquee in his fake gorilla suit. He hugged Mr Pudding, obsequiously declaring how much he looked up to him as a blogging trailblazer. "I am not worthy!" grinned Brad. Loitering behind him was the delicious Alkelda - author of "Saints and Spinners". Fluttering her eyelashes, she immediately tried to seduce the happily-married Mr Pudding. Though tempted by her feminine wiles, he pushed her away as if she were no more than a Verifican goatherd. "Get off me shallow wench! You're only after my millions!"

The night started to swing. Springsteen's set was amazing. Down at the front, Reidski was bopping away like a madman, his wild "Braveheart" hair flailing all over the place as he and his beloved JJ lost themselves in the music but later they smooched like teenagers when the band attempted a New Jersey version of "It Must Be Love". "It's all a load of cobblers to me!" chuntered Arthur Clewley in the corner.

Yorkshire Pudding was over at the bar guzzling

pints of Tetley with a bunch of American bloggers including his old buddies "By George" and Amy Fridays-Web. "Just a minute," whispered Pud, lifting Friday's long brown tresses to inspect her neck, "as I thought, as red as a beetroot!" "Yup! Weez all rednecks down South!" grinned George, displaying her ruddy nape.

A fight broke out near the Gents loo. Steve from "Occupied Country" and "Shooting Parrots" - both from Lancashire - were beating seven bells out of Ilkley's resident hippycook, "Yorkshire Soul". Pudding steamed in to assist his compatriot and as in the War of The Roses, the Lancastrian wimps were driven back to their dominoes. "What was all that about lads?" said mine host. "He said he'd had more hits on his blog than both of us put together!" sniffled The Parrotman.

In spite of their marital status, Krip from Gillingham and Martin from York were trying to chat up two of the female transatlantic guests - Kara from Georgia and Zandrea from Boston. The American ladies couldn't understand a word the lads were saying so Yorkshire Pudding came over to translate but before he could get a word out, into the marquee burst Australian blogger Dirk, creator of "Arm The Insane". "Jesus Christ, I feel as dry as a kangaroo's jock strap!" he uttered before visiting the bar for a bucket of Fosters, bumping in to The Retarded Rugrat from Vancouver who was smooching with her darling Jeff.

And so it went on until the early hours. There was dancing, revelry, quaffing of beer, necking of bottles, debate about blogging techniques and etiquette. Every blogger present was given a framed and signed photograph of Yorkshire Pudding who was lifted on to the stage in a wave of excitement as all the bloggers together sang, "For he's a jolly good fellow!".... And England won the World Cup!

Winner of the "Weekend" Silly Blog Post Award for June 2006

Lard

You've heard of the Michelin Man, now here's the Michelin Lady - courtesy of Macdonalds, Pizza Hut, lard sandwiches, pure unadulterated greed and some kind of personality disorder.

Caption anybody?