Records

British people of my generation grew up on music. It nourished us. We followed the ups and downs of the weekly hit parades quite religiously, keeping a close eye on albums as well as singles. We were born after World War II and witnessed a society that was transitioning from old-fashioned austerity and propriety into a modern world that had colour, greater flexibility and also a world in which the young had some clout. We could dream of a better future, hopefully devoid of war.

We had money to buy singles and if we saved enough we might even buy albums. Most of us can remember the very first records we bought. My first single was "Return to Sender" by Elvis Presley (December 1962) and amongst the next few were  "Scarlet O'Hara" by Jet Harris and Tony Meehan (April 1963), "Hurdy Gurdy Man" by Donovan Leitch (May 1968)  "Both Sides Now" by Judy Collins (October 1968) and "Albatross" by Fleetwood Mac (November 1968). I know there were others from '63 to '68 but these were the first singles that sprang to my mind after all these years.

My first album, which was jointly owned with my three brothers was "With The Beatles" (November 1963). We played it over and over and I swear that even today I know nearly all of the lyrics from that record by heart:-

There were bells on a hill

But I never heard them ringing

No, I never heard them at all

'Til there was you

There were birds in the sky

But I never saw them winging

No, I never saw them at all

'Til there was you

Later I had an evening  paper round and sometimes worked on local farms to earn a few bob so I had more money to spend on albums. I bought the first four albums by Fairport Convention - an English band that zigzagged between traditional folk music and the growing transatlantic singer-songwriter movement . I also bought several of Bob Dylan's early albums but my favourites were "John Wesley Harding" and "Nashville Skyline" and of course there was Leonard Cohen and his genius compatriot - Joni Mitchell:-

Richard got married to a figure skater

And he bought her a dish washer and a coffee percolator

And he drinks at home now most nights with the TV on

And all the house lights left up bright

Since my teenage years, music has never been able to touch me as it did back then. I didn't just listen to music, I absorbed it entirely. Ultimately, it was the lyrics that fed and sometimes overwhelmed me. Every word mattered, every pause. It became a kind of life raft that I gripped on to in order to survive and make it through to adulthood. Never before nor since.

"Unhalfbricking" by Fairport Convention

Authenticity

This afternoon, I ventured into the city centre by bus - specially to see the latest Ken Loach film - "The Old Oak" and I must say that I am very glad that I bothered. It may well be Loach's last film for he will be 88 years old next year. As a lifelong socialist, he has never sold out in his film-making - picking unusual stories that faithfully portray the working class with dignity and compassion. His characters are never caricatures.

"The Old Oak" is set in a deprived former coal mining village in the north east of England. Tensions occur between longstanding residents and Syrian refugees who have come to live amongst them after fleeing from warfare and internal strife in their home country.

At the heart of the drama are two people played by actors who were plucked from obscurity by Ken Lcach himself. There's T.J. Ballantyne, the landlord of  the rundown "Old Oak" pub, played by a former fire fighter called Dave Turner and a young woman from the Syrian community called Yara played by middle school drama teacher Ebla Mari.

It is through them that the two groups come together and in spite of  mutual poverty and suspicion, hope and togetherness are born. Ultimately, there's a bright upbeat message to this emotionally genuine film which contains many moving moments that I freely admit brought tears to my eyes.

The great Ken Loach

Termination

As some of you will recall, in one of my other online lives I am a keen contributor to the Geograph photo-mapping project. I have taken photographs in 14,803 different squares - the British Isles being divided into over three hundred thousand of these squares which measure 1km by 1km.

On the Geograph home page, they declare that  the project has attracted 13,815 different contributors since its inception in December 2005. However, behind that figure there lurks another story.

I joined Geograph in 2009 which was the year I retired from full time teaching here in Sheffield. That connection is clearly not uncommon. As I read it, I would say that a substantial proportion of Geograph contributors are retired folk with time on their hands to roam about with their cameras. Of course, when someone retires the next big thing in their life will be death and when a Geograph contributor dies then he or she will cease contributing images. Crazy I know - but it's true!

What you find is this. A contributor will have been uploading new pictures on a weekly basis  for years and then all of a sudden their contributions stop. Okay they may have got bored with the whole thing or maybe they've had a debilitating stroke or maybe someone stole their camera or something like that but mostly the endings are down to death.

I wonder what my very last picture will be? Here I am sharing the last images of three previously busy Geograph contributors. This was the last picture of Dr Neil Clifton who submitted 16,509 photos between December 2005 and November 15th 2018. It was taken on Fleece Street in  Rochdale, Lancashire that same month:-

John Allan made many wonderful contributions - mostly of Scottish scenery between December 2005 and May 2021. This was his very last picture of the east beach at North Berwick:-

Kate Jewell contributed 7871 images to Geograph from its inception to May 7th 2020 though her last picture of a canal lock near Cotgrave, Nottinghamshire was in fact taken in the summer of 2006:-

And if you are wondering about the picture at the top of this blogpost. It is of Elliottholme Lodge near Bakewell, Derbyshire. I snapped it just last Friday. And if I fail to wake up in the morning, following the example of my brother Paul, it is this image that will be my last gift to Geograph and the world. My swan song.  Thank you and good night. (Sound of hooting, cheers and foot stomping)

Childhood

I love this picture of our Little Phoebe lying in her bed three nights ago. We may have recently welcomed two new baby grandchildren into our family but Phoebe remains our special one, the first born and a star who still shines brightly in our lives.

Her Uncle Ian bought her the Buzz Lightyear figure to co-incide with the arrival of her baby sister Margot. Also in Phoebe's bed you can see Zog the Dragon, Einstein the cuddly prawn and Phoebe's special friend Monty the Sloth - named after Monteverde in Costa Rica which her parents visited three years  before she was born. I was going to say nine months but that would have been a lie.

In the picture, you get a sense of Phoebe's mischievous character. She is full of beans and has a real zest for life. Her language skills continue to progress in leaps and bounds. She can parrot just about anything you say to her. When she wants something or indeed doesn't want something, she digs her heels in like the anchor of a tug of war team.

It's hard to believe that she is not yet three years old. Her birthday will be on January 15th which of course makes her a Capricorn. If you believe in all that horoscopal nonsense, "Capricorns see everything as a task to be done, which makes them a very self-reliant and diligent personality type. They can do everything they set their minds to, regardless of how much energy it takes, as long as they have a clear objective in mind and a plan to get there."

Frances and Stew have already booked the local church hall for Phoebe's third birthday party but when Grandma and Grandpa asked if they could come along she said, "No! You can't!" 

Even though she is less than three feet tall, she can be exceedingly defiant and the word "No!" figures frequently in her communications with adult members of her family. But we wouldn't want her any other way. As she sometimes announces, "I'm Phoebe!" and that is that.

Mirth

The scene is set in the lounge of "The Hammer and Pincers". It is quiz night.

KATIE Are we all ready for Question 12?

YORKSHIRE PUDDING Yes. Go ahead!

KATIE Question 12...What are Americans talking about when they use the word "weenie"?

(Hushed debate amongst quiz teams. The word "penis" is heard from one corner)

Twenty minutes later. The Answers.

KATIE Question 12. What does the word "weenie" mean in America? The answer is hot dog, hot dog

YORKSHIRE PUDDING What about sausage?

(Pause)

KATIE Yes. I can accept sausage.

YORKSHIRE PUDDING Yeah. I bet you can!

QUIZ TEAMS HA-HA-HA-HA! (Mirth)

KATIE (blushing) Question 13: The titular name of the current pope is Francis. Pope Francis.

Mysteries

• Why is it that when we drive by roadworks that may even necessitate the use of temporary traffic lights, nobody appears to be actually working there? Go past two days later and there's still nobody working there. In fact when does the work get done? It's a mystery.
• When washing up a few things in the sink, why is it that when you drain away the soapy water there's always one item of cutlery left behind - normally a teaspoon?
• Why do 43% of British adults believe in ghosts without any evidence to back up that claim and when it's clear to the rest of us that there are no such things as ghosts?
• Why do governments print lurid health warnings on packets of cigarettes while simultaneously raking in taxes connected with tobacco products? It's another mystery.
• In relation to reducing the world's carbon footprint, why does nobody in power seem to give a damn about the excessive use of mobile phones that require regular re-charging and contain rare metal components? And why must these phones be replaced so frequently?  Ignoring the environmental impact of personal phones seems de rigueur. Shh! Don't say anything about them.
• Why is it that when you are a child time goes slowly but as you grow older time speeds up? When you are a child your birthdays seem to be many miles apart but as you grow older they flicker by like pages in a day calendar blown by a stiff breeze.
• How do migratory birds travel thousands of miles without navigational aids - and this applies also to  young birds that have never made the journey before - how do they do that?
• What happens to all the plastic we gather and take to the collection point at our local "Tesco" supermarket every month or so? Is it actually recycled or is it shipped to some third world country for "processing" (i.e. burning and polluting rivers). Why won't anybody tell us?

There are numerous other "mysteries" that gnaw away inside of me but perhaps you have got one or two of your own you would like to share with us in the comments...

Plodding

 

We have had some lovely autumn weather this week. Today, Clint propelled me over the hills to the edge of Bakewell which is perhaps the most famous town in The Peak District National Park. I was all set for a nice walk of around 2.5 to 3 hours and had planned a circular route before printing off the A4 map sheet I required.

Soon after setting off, I had to cross Bakewell Golf Course where walkers are invited  to clang a primitive bell  in order to warn nearby golfers that ramblers are around. To say that "Golf ball strikes are painful" seems like an understatement. Each year in America around 40,000 people who are hit by golfballs seek medical attention and though rare, deaths due to golf ball strikes certainly do happen.

After the golf course, I made my way up a steep and rather slippery path through Manners Wood to Calton Pastures which belong to the estate of Chatsworth House - seat of The Dukes of Devonshire. From afar I could see The Russian Cottage which I photographed a year back - go here.

I investigated a little-visited triangulation pillar before heading back into the woods and down the escarpment to Bowling Green Farm which is on the edge of the estate of ancient Haddon Hall - its boundary defined by the metal fence you can see in the image below:-

The path by The River Wye was treacherous after a very wet October so as my  invigorating walk drew to a close I headed away from the river and on to Coombs Road which is where this grand Georgian house is located. For many years, it was a residential home for the elderly but it has been empty for ages now - awaiting the magic wand swish of a housing developer.

And so I headed home with my faithful companion across a gorgeous landscape that was bathed in golden November sunlight. Every few hundred yards there was another tempting photo opportunity because of the illumination and the colour but Clint would not stop. He just kept bowling along.