Plane Spotting

Lancaster fly-past marks Dambuster anniversary

 

Mr Uhdd, has been plane spotting today, so for the aviation buffs amongst you (that’s you flighty) some images; I’ve got to dash out in a moment and I won’t be back on line for a wee while, so if you are not familiar with the historical importance of the ‘Lancaster Bombers’ you had best read this, here’s an excerpt from the Independent Newspaper.

A Lancaster bomber swooped over a Peak District reservoir today to mark the 65th anniversary of the Dambusters raid.

The historic Lancaster - similar to the one used by the RAF’s 617 Squadron to successfully bomb two German dams in 1943 - flew three times along the Derwent valley as the centrepiece of a thrilling flypast.

The Derwent dam was used by the Dambusters to train ahead of their mission to destroy three dams in Germany’s Ruhr valley.

Today Squadron Leader Les Munro, the last surviving pilot from the mission codenamed Operation Chastise, was one of the guests of honour attending the service.

Also taking part in the fly-past were a Spitfire, a Hurricane, two Tornado fighters from the present 617 Squadron, and a Dakota transport plane (there is Lancaster, bottom right in this shot)

 

I must away, my carriage awaits.

Role Reversal

Jack Sprat could eat no fat

His wife could eat no lean

And so betwixt the two of them

They licked the platter clean

So goes the traditional British rhyme, well in this household the roles are reversed. Mr Uhdd continues a pace to prepare for his attempt at the ‘Bob Graham’ fell running challenge next month (its a while since I mentioned it, so here are the statistics; length 74 miles, taking in 42 Lakeland peaks and over 28,000 feet of ascent, to be completed in 24 hours.)

The amount of training required for this sort of challenge, needs fueling and ‘catering control’ (and that’s me) is struggling to stop him from eating himself, his body mass index is now down to 20.6 and his body fat is 3.7 that’s heading for pro cyclist levels. Meanwhile I am shopping for and living amongst food I most defiantly shouldn’t be eating; it’s high in protein and fats and there seems to be no restriction on the flapjack, chocolate and biscuit consumption. It’s hard to cater for a more modest diet for me and keep focused on the salad draw in the fridge, when the other shelves are laden with so many tempting goodies and the fruit bowl is juxtaposed with the biscuit tin.

I’m awash with commitments and challenges of my own over the next few weeks, though non so energetic. So posting and blog reading may be a bit spasmodic till mid June, when normal service will be resumed.

Loitering with Intent

The local herons have been spending  a lot of time by the pond, eyeing up the fish. I don’t think they manage to take many as our pond has steep sides and herons won’t step into deep water they will only wade in from the shallows. I like seeing a heron by the pond and don’t begrudge them a few fish, we have more than enough and I think the golden orfe are now too big for the herons to tackle.

How ever Inspector Gadget explains that doing what comes naturally (to a heron) is reportable offence

‘Theft of Goldfish from Pond - main suspect - local Heron’

 

I disturbed a heron yesterday, it flew off  and perched in the sycamore tree, they do look rather ridiculous sat in a tree, there is something about herons that doesn’t seem to add up, as though there was a miscalculation at the design stage, herons legs look like they might snap and their beaks look too heavy, (I’ve yet to manage to get a photograph of one, so I’ll cheat)

the ability of herons to catch fish led to a belief  that their legs must produce some magical substance that attracted the fish, this resulted in anglers scattering pieces of herons legs around the fishing ground, in an attempt to attract fish, now don’t try this at home because

In Great Britain the heron is protected at all times under the Wildlife and Countryside Act 1981, with fines or prison sentences available for anyone killing or attempting to kill one

 

and such a fishy incident will result in even more paper work for Gadget.

I adore our pond, you can see why,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We built it six years ago, we borrowed a mini digger and a dumper truck and Mr Uhdd set to work, it ended up a different shape and a  bit bigger than the original plan (not unlike the heron) and the liner cost as much as the new sofa we planed to buy at the time, six years on we still haven’t bought a sofa, but I have no regrets, the pond investment was the right one and the old sofa will be fashionable again soon. The pond is spring fed and whilst it doesn’t run all year round it is a big enough body of water not to need topping up. We were amazed by how quickly wildlife just turned up and took over it, (treat of treat has been a visiting kingfisher) This summer I will be on a mission to get more photographs of some of the visitors, this is the best I managed last year

I think I shall make a mug of tea and go up to the pond, bliss.

Missing

In a change from the scheduled post I bring sad news that ‘Thing Two’ has died.

 

Now the serious chicken keepers may pour scorn on such sentimentality; but I have to admit I was rather fond of the old bird. She has been living out a comfortable retirement from egg production, getting a bit slower and detached from the rest of the flock as the weeks passed, but never the less she seemed to be happy. I had been making sure she got her fair share of food, chickens can be ruthless about ‘pecking orders’ and getting the biggest share of the nosh.

I miss her about the place, she had taken to spending her day near the house, in the herb bed, basking in the sun by the rosemary bush if the weather was fair or seeking shelter under a conifer if it rained. I think Moss the dog misses her, Thing Two’s  favourite position was just out of the reach of Moss, but not out of her sight, it drove Moss mad that she couldn’t get past the gate to round her up, Thing Two was indifferent to Moss’s frantic barking, however I don’t think the neighbours will miss Moss barking so much.

Thing Two failed to turn up at the hen house at dusk on Wednesday night, I searched around for her but couldn’t find her I thought she must have ben picked off by a fox, but eventually I found her on Thursday, down by the compost heap, it seems to have been a case of death by ‘natural causes’ rather than the fox, I am relieved about that, and very relived that she hadn’t got to the stage where she became ill rather than old and we had to humanely kill her.

Forget- Me-Not Blue

 

I’ll not forget, back in my flower shop days making a posy of forget-me-not’s and lily of the valley, for a child’s funeral, it was delicate, pretty, ephemeral.

I’ve written before how flowers can send you back in time, date stamp a time and place, be it happy or sad, Dame Honoria Glossop writes about a similar experience, as does Bo; today’s flower thought was a little melancholy, but I have a lighter one to write about as well, I’ll be back soon.

Isolated Showers

An away day this weekend, we yomped off on to the moors to help plant thousands of cotton grass plants

on the Kinder plateau;  Joe, Tom and I were joined by a friend and her son ‘the young man’ who is only five.

The forecast was for ‘isolated showers’. I think the showers decided they needed ‘to get out more’ and had found each other on some sort of  Internet ‘metrological forum’  and decide to meet up for the day, on Kinder Scout: we were on the hills for five hours, it rained persistently for four of them!

It was my plan to show you lots of arty shots of cotton grass planting, but it was just too wet for anything more than a couple of grab shots, and they are of poor quality, sorry; but on with the story

Kinder Scout, is important  both historically and environmentally, in 1932 it was the location for a protest march, that paved the way for the public rights to access to areas of open country; a report from the Manchester Guardian newspaper, dated April 24th 1932

‘Four or five hundred ramblers, mostly from Manchester, trespassed in mass on Kinder Scout to-day. They fought a brief but vigorous hand-to-hand struggle with a number of keepers specially enrolled for the occasion. This they won with ease, and then marched to Ashop Head, where they held a meeting before returning in triumph to Hayfield. Their triumph was short-lived, for there the police met them, halted them, combed their ranks for suspects, and detained five men. Another man had been detained earlier in the day.’

Environmentally, the area has taken a hammering

‘As the environmental pressure on the area has grown over the last 200 years – due to a combination of acid rain, major wildfires and past excessive grazing – the peat soil has become so degraded that, instead of reducing carbon in the air, it is actively releasing it back into the atmosphere.’ 

 

It is a wild landscape, deep black peat, that shakes like a jelly if you jump up and down on it

The cotton grass planting is a National Trust project, to stabilise the area, despite the weather more volunteers had turned out than expected; many hands make light work, so  when we made it up there they had just planted the last plant not 5 mins before. This could have be akin to telling ‘the young man’ on Christmas eve, that Santa was make believe! It was a long walk for one so young, his mum coaxed the National Trust Wardens in to digging a couple of plants back up again, so that he could plant his all important cotton plant.

(Cotton grass on a sunnier day!)

Tom and Joe just had to take the disappointment on their rain drenched chins. 

As made our way home the National Trust wardens, who were no doubt glad to get off the hill and out of the rain earlier than expected, bumped  past us down the track.

The weather and the planting didn’t turn out quite how we expected but the day was something of an adventure.

A Fondness for Ferns

 

I am very taken with ferns, I like the way they start out from the crown, tightly rolled, clenched like a babies fist

then they gradually unfurl

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They are squeezing out of the smallest of spaces

I have a book, it was an impulse buy, but a good one, it’s features the photographs of Karl Blossfeldt (1865-1932) with reproductions of many of the plates from his book, ‘Art Forms in Nature,’ take a look they are stunning, Blossfeldt was a lecturer of sculpture at Berlins Arts and Crafts school and he seemed to like ferns as much as I do

Feathered Nest

Gusty winds the other day must have dislodged this nest, I found it on the ground

It’s a work of art, dainty, only four inches wide and two deep, it’s constructed from a wide selection of materials, lichens, mosses, twigs, we could identify, both cat and the dog hair and it’s  lined with feathers

We were impressed by it’s craftsmanship and as Tom commented

‘ And just think, birds haven’t got any hands.’

He has a point, you try building that with no other tool than a beak!

Sadly they will have to start all over again, with better foundations.

Jump for Joy

This was fun

Tom was on the trampoline this afternoon, I was lying on the grass underneath it!

 

 

 

 

I think I now understand how war photographers sometimes get themselves killed because they are so busy ’seeing through the lens’ rather than being aware of the dangers around them. I think he got quite close on the big jumps

Me

Just when you thought it impossible to hear any more about me, I’ve been tagged by Noddy

Now firstly I must apologise to Jo who tagged me last month and I failed to get my act together and reply, so this is sort of a two in one post.

Here are the rules, for those who decide to play along:
1) Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog.
2) Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird.
3) Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs.
4) Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

Well many of my oddities are already placed in the public domain, see my ‘can do,can’t do’ and ‘love it, hate it’ pages, but here are few more

I was born with hazel coloured eyes, rather than the factory fitted standard of baby blue.

As a child I was terrified of the sound of the Cuckoo, listen here, I used to run indoor crying if I heard it, now, sadly we never hear it around here.

Aged about four, I knocked the garden shed off its foundations when I crashed into it in my big brothers boggy cart, (sort of a basic ‘go cart’) ahhhh, now those were the days, boggy carts built with proper Silver Cross pram wheels.

Tea, is a passion, but I never drain the cup; I was raised up in a ‘loose tea’ house hold, three spoons to the pot, using the spoon in the caddy, this has over left me with a learned behavior Skinner would have been impressed by. Over three decades latter I still think I will get a mouthful of tea leaves if I drink every last drop even though I made the tea with a tea bag.

In the 1980’s I had a nice cup of tea and a sit down, with the then Northern Ireland minister, Tom King on the balcony of Stormont Castle in Belfast

I loath exterior window shutters on houses, the fake ones that can never be closed to keep out the heat of the midday sun, because A, it never gets that hot in the UK and B, they are screwed to the wall.

Like this, ‘for decoration only,’ close these and you decapitate the window box flowers

I also have a deep desire to liberate road signs from layers of road grime or algae, so far I have repressed the desire to run round the county with a bucket of soapy water and a cloth, but it’s only a matter of time. (You might think this ‘quirk’ indicated that I have very high standards of domestic cleanliness, you would be wrong.)

So here are my tags, play along if you wish, but feel free to ignore and go out to play instead.

Tea Stains

Siren voices

nezza

Gerry

Bo

Robin

Louise