Proud as a Peacock

This peacock was getting a tad territorial,  seeing it’s own reflection in the paint work of the cars, he took them to be challengers to his male dominance.

He was willing to take on all comers.

The owner of the car with the shiny alloy wheels, was not impressed about having his precious paint work chipped at by a pointy bird beak. He tried remonstrating with the bird, shooing it away and getting rather stroppy with it, much to the amusement of everyone else in the car park, it would have made a wonderful candid shot; but having made a dynamic risk assessment used my feminine intuition, to deduce that the guy was not going to take kindly to someone taking snapshots of him arguing with a peacock, after all it wasn’t just the peacock that was ’strutting it’s stuff’ and showing off his fine plumage, I decided I’d best be discrete, in the end the peacock won and the guy drove off in a huff, wheels spinning, I think his feathers were a little ruffled. 

Reading Between the Lines

Noddy tagged me, it’s all about books; well the reason it’s taken me well over two weeks to write this post is that the prospect of writing it put me into therapy! I have a complex relationship with the printed word, I’ve touched on it before

But here is the brief

“Books are scarce in the world. They are illegal in some provinces. They are not easily replaced, if not impossible to replace if lost in many if not most circumstances. If you can replace a book or buy one, it is usually through the black market at astronomical costs that you cannot afford. Yet you have been able to maintain one of the best collections in the world. If your entire library was about to burn up and you could only have one* book to take with you other than the Bible, what would that be and why?”
Simple Rules:

Answer the question.
Offer one quote that resonates with you.
Tag five people whose response is of genuine interest to you and inform him or her that they have been tagged.

*and it cannot be an entire series of something, that’s cheating.

I feel a bit of a charlatan even doing this meme, I just don’t feel qualified I am not by any stretch of the imagination ‘well read’, my reading is eclectic to say the least, I can identify with Noddy’s comments,

Reading books is almost like going on a diet or stopping smoking. You know it’s good for you, but……

I didn’t grow up in bookish household (my mum will contest this by reminding me that I went to the library every Saturday morning, it’s true I did, on the way to junior youth club, but it doesn’t mean I ever read the books, and as likely as not they were of the Blue Peter ‘how to make’ genre.

When Tom was only a few month old I can recollect getting caught up in a conversation at a family celebration, with the ‘extremely well read’ division of my extended family the question went along the lines of ‘So  Heather, who are your favourite children’s authors?’ at the time my sleep deprived, addled mind, distracted by issues of breast feeding and nappy rash,  I could only manage a reference to enjoying ‘Winnie the Pooh’(and wishing my mums dear friend Laura, a sound, grounded ‘earth mother’ lady who read it to me would come to my rescue.) I’ve rarely felt more out of my depth.

I am envious of any one who can ‘get lost in a book’, my dyslexic brain just finds it a bit of a slog, maybe that’s why I like blogs, they come in bite size pieces.

Any way on with the story, there are three contenders,

Wild Swans: Three Daughters of China is an autobiographical family history by Chinese writer Jung Chang. First published in 1992, it is the story of her grandmother, her mother and herself, and in telling their stories gives a unique perspective on 20th century Chinese history.

Do you think the brief of this meme is a little far fetched? you won’t if you read this book.

Next up is

The curious Incident of the dog in the Night Time by Mark Haddon

Writing his first novel from the point of view of an autistic 15-year-old, Mark Haddon takes the reader into the chaos of autism and creates a character of such empathy that many readers will begin to feel for the first time what it is like to live a life in which there are no filters to eliminate or order the millions of pieces of information that come to us through our senses every instant of the day.

It was written for a teenage audience (having got my copy down off the shelf to write this post, Tom pounced upon it and read it cover to cover) but I think anyone who read it would be richer and wiser for doing so

But if there could be a number one it is

‘Letter To Daniel, Dispatches from the Heart’ by Fergal Keane

 

it’s a collection of his reports, broadcast by BBC Radio 4 program ‘From Our Own Correspondent’, I heard a broadcast of Keane reading ‘Letter to Daniel’ when Tom was a few weeks old; it stopped me in my tracks, I can’t think that any parent would not be struck by the emotion and power of it, nor that of his other reports from some of the most desperate, desolate and war torn areas of the world. For me it is an added bonus that when I read it I can also ‘hear’ it in his honeyed Irish accent, if you want you can listen to it here I recommend you do.

Your coming has turned me upside down and inside out, so much that seemed essential to me has, in the past few days, taken on a different colour. Like many foreign correspondents I know, I have lived a life that, on occasion, has veered close to the edge: war zones, natural disasters, darkness in all its shapes and forms. In a world of insecurity and ambition and ego, it’s easy to be drawn in, to take chances with our lives, to believe that what we do and what people say about us is reason enough to gamble with death. Now, looking at your sleeping face, inches away from me, listening to your occasional sigh and gurgle, I wonder how I could have ever thought glory and prizes and praise were sweeter than life.

I suppose if there is a theme to this selection it is that they give a perspective on other lives and other worlds, that I would other wise find hard to imagine, a bit like blogs.

There has been a lot of tagging going on around the blogs on my feeds, so I think I shall just tag three.

Flighty, because books are more than just the tools of his trade.

Spencer, because he is being far to modest over at ‘Siren Voices’,hiding his light and his superb writing under a bushel, and

Andrea, because I am curious to know what books tempt someone with such diverse interests.

Can you tell what it is yet?

It’s the lake at Bwlch Nant yr Arian Forest Visitor Centre, shrouded in low cloud.

The weather forecast was so dire for yesterday we decided to come home from Wales a day earlier than planned, we broke the long drive here  the Bwlch Nant yr Arian Forest Visitor Centre we were hoping to see the Red Kites, we did catch a glimpse but with visibility at about 50m it was never going to be a very photogenic one, so I’ll cheat.

 

More photos of St David’s to follow, it wasn’t all rain.

At the Seaside

No sooner had we got last weekends muddy clothes from our trip to the Lake District through the wash than it was time to pack again, it’s half term holidays for the boys and we’ve come down to St David’s South West Wales, part of me wanted to stay at home, (I’ve got a lot of work to finish in the next couple of weeks) but now we are her I’ve chilled a bit, sadly the work had tocome with me.

Yesterday was warm and sunny, or so it seemed on the door step of our holiday let, in that very English way, I threw caution to the wind and decided it was warm enough to expose my tripe white legs to some sunshine by donning a skirt to the beach, it was a mistake, it was windy on the beach and I spent most of the day with beach blanket and towel wrapped around my legs, I should have heeded my dad’s favourite saying ‘Never cast a coat till May is out’ (I won’t  even try to write it in the sort of dialect he would have delivered it in) or in my case not only should I have kept my coat on, but my trousers as well, till the end of the week at least!)

But as a precursor to summer Tom and I munched our way trough a punnet of strawberries, that did just for once taste as good as they used to.

In the late afternoon the wind dropped and with the sun on our backs Tom and I fell fast asleep in that sublime melting holiday sort of way; silly me not wanting to go away, it’s nice here.

Today, Sunday its raining, a tea and papers sort of morning, I’m not sure how easy it is going to be post or get at my emails, so family and friends  who might be looking for us, we’ll be back soon.

See ya later.

All Roads Lead to the Lake District (part IV)

Miscellaneous

The pressure is on, so much to do, so little time to do it, so only few words, just look and see.

The path ahead, taken from underneath a splendid oak tree, I would have hugged it if I could, but it was way to big, so instead I sat underneath it for a while.

Wild garlic, broadleaf woodland

Wild garlic, detail

Hawthorne blossom, it is exceptional this year,

it looks like snow in may.

The tail end of the primroses

Stepping stones

Bridge

Post box

Back door, multi-purpose boots.

The End

All Roads Lead to the Lake District (part III)

Buildings, fixtures and fittings

I suppose the more isolated an area the more vernacular the style of buildings, building were built to a specific style because they worked well, the local workforce knew how to build them and the building materials were readily available, its what gives an area its distinctive look.

Apologies to this family, for posting a photograph of their undergarments on the washing line across the ‘tinternet‘, it’s the house we are supposed to be looking at.

Farm buildings

This is Yew Tree Farm, as well as a working farm, it is a guest house and a cafe, it makes my heart sing, it is a business that is run with such finesse and attention to detail it is a joy to behold.

I went in the cafe for a cup of tea and a sit down, the tea is sold in half or pint mugs, you can see why this establishment has a place in my heart; the ladies in the cafe sold me a pasty, ‘just baked, fresh out of the oven’ I could write a whole blog post on this culinary delight, but a synopsis will have to do. The pastry, firm yet melt in the mouth, the filling, stuffed full of veg; potatoes carrot and marrowfat peas, farm reared lamb, with a hint of mint,served with home made chutney, eat one of these and you will never buy a ‘Gregg’s’ pasty ever again.

Fastened to the wall of the porch of Yew tree farm is the original back door of the farm, dating to C1720

I was going to say that it is it’s simplicity of its construction that appealed to me, but closer inspection shows it to have been, what I imagine for it’s period, to be ‘top of the range’, piece of joinery and a bit ‘posh’ for the average Lakeland farmhouse C1720. The face of the door is three planks of oak wide, studded with oak pegs, through to a second layer of smaller oak boards,

it is carved with a diamond pattern, (not easy to see on the photo) and the original hinges are to match.

Once upon a time some one would have been very proud of such a fine door.

All Roads Lead to the Lake District (part II)

The people

The National trust warden and his handsome dog, the third generation to accompany him in his work

The mountain biker, I told him he was looking rather photogenic, ‘Yes’ he replied you can call the shot, ‘Mountain Biker Lost’ so I did.

The farmer feeding his lambs, the black one being a bit of a maverick

The schoolkids setting out on an adventure, that was going to be wet.

The farmer, dog, sheep and lambs, heading for the fells, I think I’ve photographed him before

And last but least, Joe, doing a little archery in rather a splendid location

Joe got a little impatient waiting his turn, he claims he said he was ‘bored,’ the instructor insisted that Joe said that ‘archery was boring’ and so punished him because it isn’t!

 

It did wash off, in the end.

All Roads Lead to the Lake District

We’ve been in the Lake District this weekend; Joe’s school had an activity weekend in Brrowdale, Mr Uhdd had a fell race to run and Tom’s school had a choir event in the South Lakes. I played out with the camera.

The Sunday morning dawned bright and clear, Mr Uhdd woke early and felt the need to share this information with me, in fact he was more direct he said ‘You need to get out with the camera, NOW!’ So at 06:00hrs on Sunday morning I was at the Summit of the Honister pass, it was a special place to be.

Despite the ridiculous time, it was so still and tranquil

Well it was tranquil until, I came across a quartet of cockerels at the Honister Slate mine, they were cock a doodle doing as such birds do at sunrise, (take a look at the mines web site for some excellent aerial photos of the area.)

the sound reverberated for miles down the pass, (Kingmagic, you would have been impressed.)

I’ve another busy week ahead, before the children break for half term holidays, so I might just drip feed you Lakeland scenes, watch this space.

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.