We were out an evening or so ago, just for a drink with friends, but Sylvia Milburn made the evening for me when she offered an opinion about how easy it is to become a virtual recluse. Because she’s absolutely…
Polling Stations, Number 3
I had to think quite hard to remember what the first elections of this year were about. I remembered the second — those were for MEPs, of course, but what were the first ones about? Oh yes, the erstwhile North…
Wildflower joys . . .
As I write, Earnest the neighbour’s pea cock is stretched out indolently between the white elder and the pink one in the sunshine, between the wild roses and the rampant honeysuckle, as if he owns the place. Maybe he does,…
Sorting out the tools . . . a mini-break in the offing?
It’s even worse than one might suppose: not only do we need a set of tools for fixing things around the house, but we also need another similar set for fixing things on the road in the ancient motorhome! Yesterday…
Allen Valley Bowls Club
Penny Little emails me a few notes to help with today’s diary entry, which I will try to supplement with what I know of the past two decades, anyway. The Allen Valley Bowls Club was formed in 1953, on its…
Calling all angels . . .
The Angel Festival at St. Cuthbert’s is scheduled for sometime the end of September, but there are early heads-up notices circulating around the parish already. It probably takes a lot of work to create an angel suitable for presentation! All…
Deneholme Wood and/or Allen Banks and Staward Gorge
To get to woodland now in Allendale, the easiest and best thing to do is to traipse cheerfully down the birch tree colonnade in the Recreation Ground to the new entrance to Deneholme Wood. Enjoy the wooded view before navigating…
The subterranean beneath us
This could be a metaphorical exercise, but in fact it is very literal: this piece is about actual caves, dark places, and frightening adventures. I was inspired yesterday to write this after an experience I have aspired to for some…
Getting things ready for the job . . . and doing it
It’s beginning to feel like a crescendo of anticipation here, with the stuttering arrival of the various components required for a couple of jobs around the place. But first came the planning, putting the new systems together in my mind,…
Little signs of the times . . .
It’s almost, but not quite, like those iconic BurmaShave advertisements that once graced Highway 66 across America’s great southwest, since there’s really no overt punchline: Except that the real punchline in the Recreation Ground’s lovely little signs is that contemporary…