Joy

Sixty years. That is how long I have been supporting Hull City. There have been many ups and downs but when you support one of England's less famous, least glamorous and least successful clubs you have to be prepared to take the rough with the smooth.

This afternoon we were playing in Rotherham which is a large town that abuts Sheffield. It was almost like a home game for me - just a short drive in the Clintmobile.

Rotherham United's home ground is called The New York Stadium. It's a nice purpose-built little ground that can hold 12,000 people. It was named with regard to the iron and steel manufacturing company that once blossomed on the site and famously made hundreds of red fire hydrants for export to New York City.

I had arranged to meet my friend Tony before the game. He had kindly bought me a match ticket for my birthday. 

It was a delightful day for football. Blue sky above and green grass below. The air was still and the temperature was balmy for late October.

Beneath the visitors' stand, happy Tigers supporters crowded together looking forward to the game with club songs chanted, beer cans sprayed and some idiot let off a flare, filling the enclosed area with pink smoke. We barged our way through and headed for our seats, right behind the goal.

It's not a viewpoint that we often experience - with much of the action being witnessed through the goal netting.

As I say, you experience highs and lows as a football supporter and today was most definitely a high. We have had a difficult season so far and after a great beginning we lost several matches in a row. It was starting to look grim but today was our day and it was great to see three of our four goals go in at our end of the ground - right under our noses. We beat Rotherham by four goals to two but we ought to have had more than four. Their official "Man of the Match" was their Icelandic goalkeeper which says a lot about how the game went for Rotherham.

My favourite goal was our second one - scored by Cyrus Christie. He ghosted in from the right wing  and was as cool as a cucumber as he slotted  his low shot goalwards between the keeper and the post. The crowd around us went wild and I was lost in the moment, joining in with the singing and punching the air just like the boy I once was.

Cyrus Christie after scoring his goal this afternoon

Emily

Emma Mackey as Emily Brontë

Yesterday, Thursday, was wet and rather miserable so I decided to travel into the city centre to see a film at The Showroom. The film in question was "Emily" directed by Frances O'Connor.

I should explain that "Wuthering Heights" and  Emily Brontë mean a great deal to me. I studied the novel at Advanced Level when I was at secondary school. I studied it again at university and when I was a secondary school English teacher, I  taught it to two cohorts of A level students.

In addition, I have visited the little Pennine town of Haworth where the Brontës lived on several occasions and I have walked over the moors to Top Withens four times. It is believed that Top Withens Farm - now a ruin - provided Emily Brontë with the idea for Wuthering Heights in the amazing novel of that name.

My daughter Frances's middle name is Emily and that is not co-incidental. There is also a character called Frances in the novel. I confess that I didn't tell Shirley about this when she said she liked the name before our beautiful baby girl was born back in 1988.

And so I came to the 2022 film with special interest. I wanted it to be good and in most ways it was good.  There was a sense of bleakness in a God-fearing community and a feeling that death might be just around the corner as it was for so many in the early nineteenth century.

Of course the director and her team were not seeking historical accuracy. They had poetic licence to create an imagined version of events and how the characters might have related to each other. There is no evidence for Emily's steamy affair with the new curate William Weightman. This is made up but adds spice to the middle section of the film. The religious propriety and watchful eyes of the early-Victorian era would have restrained Emily and Weightman like invisible chains. Besides, rumour had it that he was in fact drawn to Emily's sister Anne.

Now let's talk about teeth. In Emily Brontë's days, most people would have had terrible teeth - crooked, discoloured and often there'd be gaps too. There were no cosmetic dentists with well-equipped surgeries. So how come the characters in "Emily" all have great teeth? They are white and straight like the well-maintained teeth of jobbing actors in the twenty first century! I know that it is only a small detail and maybe it's just me but if you are seeking to recreate an authentic flavour of those days I think you have to get the teeth and indeed the fingernails right.

I was also disappointed when Emily received her first printed copies of the novel. The frontispiece said that it had been written by Emily Brontë when it should have said Ellis Bell. Like her sisters, Emily had to pose as a man in order to get published. That's how it was back then.

But let me not nitpick too much. I am so glad I went to see "Emily". It was a thought provoking take on the life of a brilliant woman - born and raised in Yorkshire - who died far too young at the age of thirty. Lord knows what excellence she might have achieved with two more decades of life and three or four extra novels under her belt. In spite of everything, she was a true literary genius and the film does not deny that.

Emily and Charlotte's grave in Haworth Church

©Stephen Craven 2019 (Geograph)

Briefing

Wednesday  October 19th

"I'm a fighter not a quitter!" says Elizabeth Truss

Thursday October 20th

Elizabeth Truss quits as prime minister.

Lasting only 45 days in the job, Elizabeth Truss now has a place in history by having had the shortest term in office of any British prime minister. Previously, the record was held by George Canning who lasted 119 days, dying in office from tuberculosis in 1827.

Now our country awaits the appointment of yet another prime minister and there are depressing rumours of a possible return for Johnson. To very many of us, this prospect is quite flabbergasting given his past conduct in office.

The political soap opera continues.

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Meanwhile, in the suburbs of Sheffield, Little Phoebe was entranced by the autumn leaves and acorns she collected in nearby Ecclesall Woods yesterday afternoon. I realised that she was really seeing those colourful leaves for the very first time and there was something rather magical about her reactions. I captured this image of her cantering down a woodland path towards her two grandmothers:-

PHOEBE She has never heard of Truss or Johnson or Trump or Anthony Albanese

Extras

It's nice to be able to share some of my photographs in this blog. It's also nice to receive positive feedback about those images from visitors who are not in the habit of dishing out praise just for the sake of it. Thank you to all who left encouraging remarks in relation to yesterday's pictorial blogpost - all gratefully received.

Anyway, I am afraid that I can't think of anything new to blog about this evening so instead I am just going to share another batch of photos from my trip to Romiley and the surrounding area so here goes:-

Above: The office block of Romiley Board Mill reflected in the still water 

of The Peak Forest Canal.

England was once a nation of churchgoers. Today that is most definitely not the case as far as Christians are concerned. In fact, most of the so-called Christians would object to that label. 

In Gee Cross I took photos of two churches that once boasted large and loyal congregations. Above is Gee Cross Methodist Church. It was opened in 1882 but now it is up for sale and suffering through lack of maintenance. It's looking like this might be one for the demolition squad. Some old Methodist churches  are successfully re-purposed as apartment blocks but given its location and state of disrepair, I doubt there's any future for this building though I hope that I am wrong.

Also in Gee Cross is Holy Trinity Church. See below. It opened in 1874 and under The Reverend Helen Scarisbrick it continues to attract a reasonable number of parishioners and is thus bucking the trend. As I approached from the other side of the tower, I came across a lady in her late seventies or early eighties sweeping up autumn leaves along the main church path. We chatted for a while and I asked her why the church clock had no hands. She assured me it was because the clock faces and internal workings are currently undergoing costly refurbishment and the hands will be replaced in due course.

Yesterday I showed you the bottom section of this war memorial in Werneth Low Country Park. Below - I think that that is a late blooming dahlia at Uplands Farm. You are welcome to correct me if I am wrong.

And finally below, autumn oak leaves on the pavement (American: sidewalk) that runs past Romiley Park. It seems to be the current fashion to display photos of autumn leaves on northern hemisphere blogs so why shouldn't I?

Proof

Yes. I did get to Romiley and back and had a lovely, long walk in gorgeous sunshine.  From the station - along  Compstall Road through the suburb of Cherry Tree  then along a quiet single track lane to High Benfield Farm. Through sheep pastures and up the hill to Uplands Farm. Across Werneth Low Road then passing a golf course to reach Hyde War Memorial magnificently  perched on a hill overlooking the town.

Down to the district of Gee Cross and along Hyde Road for two miles to Woodley. I walked alongside that main road until I reached The Peak Forest Canal. There's a path by the side of it and it led me for a further two miles to Romiley and the railway station. As planned, I caught the 16.08 home. It was crowded but I got a seat and in an hour I was back at Dore and Totley Station in Sheffield.

You know the camera never lies, so here's my proof that this walk really happened:-

The Peak Forest Canal was completed in 1805

Dilapidated house by Hyde Road , Woodley

View of Manchester from Werneth Low

Romiley

I am going to Romiley tomorrow morning. My trusty motor vehicle Clint will remain at home because I will be travelling to Romiley by train. Riding on the train I will be able to read. It takes an hour to get to Romiley from Dore and Totley station. The return rail fare is £15.80 ($18 US).

"Romiley?" you ask. Where the hell is Romiley?  It is in Greater Manchester  - to the south east of the city and just east of Stockport. In the early nineteenth century, Romiley was an agricultural village surrounded by farmland but during the industrial revolution it was more or less gobbled up by the sprawling tentacles of Manchester. However, there are still areas of green around it.

Before I go to bed I need to print off my rail tickets as well as maps that will guide me on my long circular walk. Tomorrow evening I hope to post some of my own  pictures to give you a better idea of what Romiley and the surrounding area is like.

This may seem kind of sad but I am quite excited about the planned excursion. The weather is more or less guaranteed to be wonderful tomorrow - a bright autumn day with rich colours. I will be walking in what I call virgin territory for I have never been there before. I expect I will cover eight or nine miles before catching the 16.08 train home.

As the saying goes - simple things please simple minds. However,  I know that one day I will be too old and infirm to plan something like this so I will enjoy it while I can and relish every footstep and every new sight.

Peak Forest Canal at Romiley

Dogs

To tell you the truth, I am rather ambivalent about dogs. As a child, we never had dogs in our family and as an adult homeowner the idea of adopting or buying a dog never occurred to me.

Once, when I was a relief nightwatchman in a caravan factory, I became quite attached to an Alsatian guard dog called Shane. Shirley's mother and father also had an Alsatian called Emma. She was a farm dog who slept in a kennel and was rarely allowed in the house.

Anyway, the other night a  bloke I hardly know came to join me and Bert at our table in the local pub. Lord knows why, but it wasn't long before he started sounding off about the issues he has with dogs and dog ownership.

He talked of the massive amount of food that pet dogs eat in Great Britain and said that if re-processed this food  would be perfectly fine for humans to consume. He also banged on about the number of car journeys that are taken because of dogs - usually to places where they can enjoy walks with their owners. He also mentioned fatal dog attacks and diseases caused by dog faeces - such as canis toxocara.

As I say, I have never given dogs much mind and have certainly never begrudged dog ownership as that man appeared to do. I know that pet dogs can bring much comfort to their owners - rather like good friends do.

However, some of his points have been swirling around in my mind these last few days and I have thought about the environmental impact that dog ownership is having upon our weeping planet. In Britain 33% of households own dogs and the dog food market is worth an estimated £1.5 billion a year. I was unable to find out how many car miles are travelled each year specifically to take dogs for walks but I imagine that it is quite a lot and of course every one of these journeys involves burning fossil fuels 

I guess that this is a pretty emotive subject. Several of my favourite blogs are managed by proud dog owners and I was wondering what you and others might think about these environmental concerns surrounding dog ownership.

I am now not really sure how I feel about this matter any more and so your input would be much appreciated as I try to reach some clarity.