I Enjoyed Summer - Part 1

Ah yes. Summer 2007. It was a day to remember !

Summer 2007 was yesterday by the way, and I decided to get out and enjoy it - by doing what we Brits do when the sun is out and the sky is blue. I headed to a packed tourist trap which involved sitting in a traffic jam as like I just said, every other non working Brit made the same decision.

You'd think I have known better but I guess the sun was affecting my brain even before I left the house. It does tend to have that effect on us here in still slightly damp Britain. I call it 'Yellow Orb Syndrome' and when it strikes, normally sensible people lose all control of their minds and feel this primeval urge to head toward water.....or the pub. Whichever is closer.

And recently you could use one to get to the other. What a great nation.

In my defence, I reasoned that it was a Tuesday and so not everyone with a car would be out on the roads. As a plan, it sucked big time. Not even worthy of Baldrick.

My destination was The Lake District and to make it a bit different from other road trips to that part of England, I was going to take a ride on a steam train. When I got there I mean. Wouldn't like anyone to think there is a steam train that goes from Leeds to The Lake District. Mr. Branson please note......might be onto a winner with THAT idea.

I'm not a steam train (or even a normal train) freak so I've managed to get to this advanced age without sampling it's delights. I just thought it'd be a cool thing to do.

I'd wanted to set off at 10am on the dot and so I reversed out of the driveway right on time - at 10:15am. Wellllllll, I'm a free spirit and not weighed down by conventional time constraints. I also had to poop just before I left and that played havoc with my timetable. I know.....TMI. Sorry.

The 'best' road to take to get from here to TLD is the A65 which is very appropriate as the distance involved is........65 miles. Spooky isn't it ? It's as if they somehow knew this when allocating the road number. No wonder it takes forever to drive around the Leeds Outer Ring Road though (A6120).

With every man and his dog (and his wife and 2.5 kids) on the road too, it took me 45 minutes to get past Ilkley which is only 17 miles. I was ready to go home. I mean the Orb was out and I was missing all of it. Things got better after Ilkley and I pulled into the car park of The Lakeside & Haverthwaite Railway station at 12:30 - just in time for the 13:00 departure.

Well when I say 'pulled into' I really mean I stopped and handed over £1.50 to Cumbria's answer to Rain Man and then tried to cram my car into a parking space only just wide enough for me to open the door and squeeze out without taking paint from the camper van next to me. It wasn't so much a car park as a fertile breeding ground for bodyshops nationwide.

The line to the little ticket booth was long and VERY slow moving. No one seemed to just get to the booth, hand over their money, take their ticket and move on. Oh no. It was like being behind a line of women at a supermarket checkout. Suddenly everything from the total cost of the tickets to how many were in their party seemed to come as a shock to them. How much ? How many of us ? And so the counting and figuring would go on.....and on.....and on. I know not everyone thinks to check prices BEFORE getting to such places but come on people. You should at least know how many kids you've got so that it doesn't come as a shock when you have to pay for them all.

And so it was 12:57 when I finally got to the booth, handed over my 'all ready in my hand' money, got my ticket and was on my way all within 30 seconds. Victor Mildred needed to calm down and chill and he was in the right place for once. There is nothing like a slow relaxing steam train ride to bring down the blood pressure and after the stress of the road trip, having to pay to park in a space better suited to a push bike and then having to stand in line behind a coach outing from Dysfunctional Families In The Community, my blood pressure was off the scale.

The station beyond the ticket booth was very pretty indeed and although the train was already at the platform and steam was coming from every part of the engine, I felt I had just enough time to walk about and take some photos.

I guess I felt that as long as the carriage doors were lying open, I would have time to jump on even if the train was moving off.

Guess again. That might've been ok in the movies or in the Golden Age of Steam when this train wasn't an antique. In these days of Health & Safety. the passengers all need to be inside with their seatbelts fastened before the train sets off. Well maybe not the seat belt part. I just made that up.

With the station clock already showing 1pm and with the engine belching steam impressively, I had to rush to the far end to get a photo of the beast. There was a bridge over the line but I knew I'd not be able to get up on top and back down in time to take my seat and so I made do with a shot from the end of the platform looking back at the engine.

The front of it was almost under the bridge which is why it's a bit dark. I think that helps make the steam appear even more white than it was - so I've not tinkered with it.

By the time I walked back to my carriage of choice, the whistleblower was closing all the doors and about to do his thing. I jumped on board (and not in a sophisticated and casual Cary Grant way but more in a desperate and breathless Mr. Bean way) and settled down for the ride.

Within seconds I was on my feet again and taking photos like a madman out the carriage door window. You've seen the type of shot on every train journey documentary ever made. The train going round a bend so you see the engine and first few carriages; the train going along past fields with cute cows and cuter sheep; the train approaching a bridge/lake/area of outstanding beauty. You get the picture, so to speak.

My idea was to take all the photos on this outbound journey and then be able to sit down and enjoy the return leg without getting up from my seat at all.

My carriage wasn't full but I have to say the number of people on the train was very impressive and if that was typical, then it's survival should be assured.

Just about every group had a camera owner among it's number and a few even had the notebook that always accompanies the serious train enthusiast.

When I'd checked the web site, I'd noticed that there was a special Victorian Evening surrounding the 6:45pm train journey and it was tempting to be there for that. Maybe lots of the passengers would be dressed accordingly. I decided if I was in the area near the time, I would pop along.

And so, 18 minutes later, we ended up at Lakeside and it's pretty station right on the shores of Lake Windermere, the largest lake in England.

Most people got off the train to wander around the area but I just hung around the station platform as the return trip was due in 15 minutes.

This still gave me plenty of time to take in the scenery and watch what was going on out on the lake.

There was a long line waiting to board the MV Tern for the 35 minute cruise along the lake. Built in 1891, this is the oldest steamer working on the lake and one of at least 16 large passenger steamers and launches taking people on lake cruises. Add to that the hundreds of personal boats of all kinds and you can begin to imagine how busy the lake becomes in summer - which was yesterday, remember. I'm sure they've all gone into dry dock today, what with summer being over an' all.

The 3 steamers, the Swan, the Teal and the Tern, can carry over 1400 passengers so it didn't matter that the line outside the station was long. They'd all get onboard easily enough. While enjoying the fact that few railway stations in the world could be located only a few feet from a lake, the Tern swept majestically into view and in no time was swinging around to dock right next to the small building in the last photo.














I'll add 2 images of the steamer; the first because it shows that the lake is surrounded by a wonderful backdrop of trees and hills and the second is to show off the steamer better as those very trees have made it difficult so see it clearly.














Then, with a few shrill warning blasts from the whistleblower, it was time for the trip back to Haverthwaite station and although I did my best to sit this time, I did have my video camera in my bag and so just had to get some footage - I mean I was onboard a steam train after all.

The whole round trip had taken less than an hour and was well worth the £5.20 adult fair. I have to say I was surprised there was no rate for a senior citizen and they'd been quick to see through my cunning ploy of rolling up my trouser pants and asking for the child fare. Damn this beard. Hey, it's puberty, what can I say !!

I was happy to find that the vehicles on either side of my car had not moved as I was concerned that in doing so, my car might have been damaged. Even getting into those vehicles may have caused damage to mine unless the owners were Kate Moss and Posh Spice - not something I'd have put any money on. Too much clear fresh air for Kate and no Gucci stores on the station platform for Posh. My gleaming Clio was untouched.

Anyway I left on the A590 and headed back a few miles to start on the A592 up the east side of Lake Windermere to the town which bears it's name. Lake. No sorry, Windermere. As the lake is 12 miles long, the road isn't much longer as it pretty much hugs the lakeline. Is there such a word ? Shoreline then. But lakes don't have shores, do they ?

Never mind, the road followed the water. There.

Just a few miles along and through the trees I saw hundreds of parked cars and the occasional glimpse of people frolicking on land and in the lake. I decided to investigate and found myself in Fell Foot Country Park which is owned by the National Trust and so it costs to park there.......£3 for 2 hours actually. The website I'm linking to here isn't great but at least it has 3 or so pretty moving images to look at. The National Trust website for the park is even less impressive and all this is a shame as the place looked lovely to me and a real treat for the eyes.

Well yes and no. As you can see from MY photo, it's a very popular spot and this brings a lot of tourists and day trippers. It's the old catch-22 situation again as the very beauty of the place has meant it is crowded on summer days (sorry, on the summer DAY) and so it's not quite so beautful anymore.

It's what I'd call the Yosemite Effect and if a tree was cut down in Fell Foot, loads of people would hear it fall.

Kind of mixing my metaphors there and after all, I'm not coming from a strong point of view. If I'd not caught sight of the parked cars through the trees, I'd never have stopped and added to the hoards already there.

And there was no doubt everyone was enjoying the park and that has to be a good thing. The money raised from all those £3's (and more if you stayed longer) is hopefully going back into the upkeep of the area and not into some pension fund in The Caymans.........unless that fund belongs to IBM in which case I'm all for it. They need to charge £5 per hour, dammit.

And on that point of fiscal nonsence, I'll close this part of my day out yesterday. If anyone is still interested, in true literary style, Part 2 will be coming along shortly. Book your tickets now and try to stay away from forums and chatrooms or you may accidently find out how it all ends.

Just in case, I've placed Hedwig's younger brother on the post (get it...post.....blog........oh suit yourselves). He'll let me know if anyone comes looking for Part 2 before it's published.

He went over to the dark side, which explains his appearance. Oh and the keen sighted may notice he's not an owl either. His mother wasn't fussy.

Dancing With Memories

Sitting here in my very British living room in my even more British semi detached house, it's sometimes hard to remember there is a big world out there with many different sounds, smells and sights to be experienced and explored.

Photos and videos (amateur and professional) can certainly initiate an interest in some new travel destination but my favourite source of such visual information has to come from movies. As a result, strange to say, my most frequently accessed travel site has to be IMDB which would probably amaze it's creators.

For anyone not familiar with this wonderful site, you enter any movie title in the search box and up comes the movie with every possible bit of information you'd ever want to know about it from who starred in it, to who fixed the sandwiches on set. So why do I use it as a travel site ?

Well down the left hand side are even more options you can pick, like what awards the movie has won, what goofs people have found when watching it and the one that makes it a travel site for me..........the filming locations used in the movie.

As I've said before, I started visiting America in the summer of 1989 and went only to Florida that year. For 3 weeks I toured the state and never left it. It was great and although visiting the KSC was the highlight for a space nut like me, I came away having had enough of theme parks and bumping into Brits on holiday to last me a lifetime. I knew then that I wanted to visit every state and see what was on offer as there had to be much more than what was in Florida.

The following year (1990) I watched a movie that made such an impression on me that it dictated where I would visit in 1991. The movie, Dances With Wolves, starred Kevin Costner but the real stars were the stunning landscapes of South Dakota and Wyoming (thank you IMDB). I had to go there. I had to see buffalo.

So on June 8th 1991 I flew into Chicago and immediately headed west in search of these hairy beasts. I really didn't expect to see any in Illinois and so I wasn't disappointed when none appeared. But armed with my deep understanding of buffalo, based solely on Dances With Wolves, I pointed my rental car towards the Badlands of South Dakota and kept my eyes open.

I got slightly sidetracked by visits to Mount Rushmore and the lesser known, but just as awesome, Crazy Horse Monument. These are worthy sights for any tourist but I was on a quest. I had the cd soundtrack of the movie all ready and dammit I wanted buffalo. After leaving the crowds behind, I found myself in a vast open prairie landscape where I could easily visualise Kevin Costner riding in full military uniform across to visit with the inquisitive Indians.
I decided the moment was near and slid the cd into the player.

As the strains of some of the most beautiful soundtrack music ever written enveloped me, I could hardly believe it when I saw a solitary buffalo up ahead right at the side of the road. I slowed down and as I came up alongside it to get a photo, it moved off at a canter but continued to run alongside the car, almost at touching distance. We came to a sharp bend in the road and as I drove around it, the view opened up before me and like that scene in Jurassic Park when Sam Neil first sees the living breathing dinosaurs, I suddenly saw a huge herd of buffalo a few hundred yards away surrounding a small expanse of water.

It was a moment that will live with me forever. In the vastness of the area, I felt like I was the last person on earth. I hadn't seen another car in over an hour in either direction and so here I was, alone with 'my' buffalo. The scenery, the music, the buffalo. Sitting in my Leeds living room less than a week earlier, I could never have imagined this.

Costner is hardly the most popular actor in the world but most people would have to admit that Dances With Wolves was a great movie on several levels. Maybe it was self indulgent. Maybe it was too long. Maybe his acting left a lot to be desired. But as a magnificent sweeping portrayal of a time in American history that has gone forever, it has few critics. And as for the stunning and emotive soundtrack written by John Barry, rarely has music combined so well with the vision on the screen to make for an overall experience that lives long in the memory.

Yesterday I tuned my cable tv box to Classic FM TV as it is a good channel to have in the background when reading or surfing late at night. Suddenly I heard the familiar opening notes to the Dances With Wolves soundtrack but with a sort of meaty beaty back track not on the CD. I loved it. The images were from the movie of course and I wished I'd had a chance to record it. I was immediately taken back to my very special time that summer in 1991 when another of my travel dreams came true. I didn't want the music to end but all too soon it did. I needed to hear it again and again.

Then I remembered YouTube and how just about anything is on there somewhere. I did a quick search and found the version I'd just heard on Classic FM and I was in heaven....or at least that part of heaven in South Dakota when for a short time you can feel totally alone on this mad planet. Where time seems to stand still and you are but an insignificant speck on the landscape. Where that landscape is almost limitless and only ends where it meets the sky. A sky so blue, it makes your emotions soar and your soul ache.

If you have seen this movie, take another listen to this music. If you have never seen it, I envy you this first listen. I want you to be there. I want you to be where I was that summer 16 years ago. I simply ask you to first imagine the scene before clicking on the link at the end and when you do, please close your eyes the first time as watching the video clip can be distracting.

You are in this car. There isn't another human being around for a hundred miles. You have dreamed of being in this very location for over a year. You turn off the engine, slowly step out of the car and let the sound of silence envelope you. A few yards away a solitary majestic buffalo has returned to eating the grass, safe in the knowledge that you pose no threat to it. Your eyes sweep across the vast empty landscape and suddenly stop on a herd of buffalo grazing near a waterhole not far away from you. As the tranquility takes you to a different level, the music starts......gently adding to the beauty of the experience.

You are now where I was. Enjoy it with me again.

Still Walking Back to Happiness - But Only Just.

Bless me Father for I have sinned. It's been 2 weeks since my last post.

Sorry......still got some Catholic traits deep within me.

Today the sky is blue, the clouds are fluffy white and the sun is.........well I was told never to look at it, so I've no idea. Probably a nice yellow colour with pointy rays coming off it in all directions.

I only mention this as we here in soggy England haven't seen much in the way of this warming orb in recent weeks and I've been pretty much stuck indoors with little to blog about. I was beginning to think it had moved out of orbit and eastern Europe was pinching our bit of sunshine - as if what they normally get wasn't enough. It's bad enough hearing reports of records temps in Greece or wherever when our webbed footed, welly wearing citizens are paddling canoes down their main streets.

Given the record rainfall that has been dumped on our green and not so pleasant land in recent weeks, I think it's ironic that thousands have to stand in line now to get drinking water. Sadly the stuff that's splashing up to their knees or settling nicely in their living rooms isn't fit to drink.........or even allow to touch your bare flesh come to that. Once you see shots of long wriggling wormlike critters floating by alongside the usual assortment of bike wheels, shopping carts, empty coke bottles and condoms, well you just don't want to dip a toe into it never mind get any inside you.

As usual, one man's misery is another man's opportunity and reports are rife of people being overcharged for bottled water and other necessities. String 'em up, I say. Off with their heads, I say. Let them run the railways, I say !!

Anyway this long period of wet and gloomy weather has made it difficult for me to get out there and do my walking. Yes I've got a treadmill for this very reason but it's just not the same. The big issue I have using the treadmill is that, at the first appearance of an ache or pain, it's way too easy to just climb down and be sitting with my feet up watching tv a few seconds later. When this happens out on the road, I'm usually 2 miles from home and have no choice but to 'break through the wall' and carry on. So I prefer to walk outside.

Oh, while on this subject, I've noticed recently that many visitors to my blog have come to it via a google search for the song 'Walking Back To Happiness'. Now one or two such visits I could understand but I am surprised by the numbers I'm getting. Maybe there is a quiz running where you need to know the lyrics to this song ? Maybe Helen Shapiro is making a comeback ? She was so young when the song was a hit that she's probably only in her 20's now !!

The post where I mentioned the song was created 13 months ago. It seems that if you google the name of the song, my blog comes up 60th out of 46,400 search replies. Not too shabby but not high enough to explain the number of hits I've been getting as I don't think many people look beyond the first page of google replies. However if you put in certain lyrics from the song......like "Funny but it's true what loneliness can do", then yours truely pops up at the top out of 738,000 replies. Wooohoooooo. I'm No.1, I'm No.1. Wonder if I'll go platinum ??

So if ANYONE out there comes to this blog this way, can you please add a comment telling me why you were looking for that particular song or it's lyrics ? Thank you. Oh and feel free to stop and read the other posts !

Speaking of shameless plugs, I think it's time to mention my brother's holiday cottage in Wales again. As regular readers will know, I spent a week there recently and can highly recommend it as a wonderful holiday base from which to explore the stunningly beautiful (and mostly dry) mountains and valleys of North and Mid Wales. Their web site is looking good now and is well worth a visit - if only to see some of my photos which I'm pleased to say were used to show what the cottage and surrounding area looks like. As their site links to this blog, I thought it only brotherly to reciprocate.

Well I need to go out and spend some time basking in the warmth of this rare celestial visitor - maybe even take a walk. As everyone tends to be miserable and sad looking when it's wet and overcast, you can imagine the national gloom that has been hovering over the UK recently. I've certainly felt that way. So to be able to get out for a walk today without a fur lined coat, thermal undies and wellies, I really can say that I'll be literally..........walking back to happiness.

And as a bonus, that reference should keep me on top of the google search results !! Shameless.

Speedy Gonzales

I was going to call this post "Another Soapbox Alert" as I'm going to pontificate - but decided it might put people off from the get go.

Today I took a 6 hour 200 mile return journey to a place near Flint in North Wales to serve my penance and attend a Speed Awareness Course in order to avoid getting 3 points on my licence for speeding 7 weeks ago. I mention the 6 hours as it wouldn't normally take me that long to drive 200 miles but today a combination of dreadful weather, it being a Friday with many schools breaking up for the summer and the fact that I had to use some of the busiest motorways in the UK, all meant that a 4 hour drive took me 6 hours and I was stopped for much of that time.

My speeding crime was doing 35mph in a 30mph zone and I was on the course with 4 other hardened criminals who had also been caught a few miles over the limit. In fact you are only offered this course as an alternative to the licence points if you've only gone a few miles over the limit. I have to assume the police think that doing something like 50 in a 30 zone or 100 on a motorway means you are beyond help and therefore would not benefit from a course. I choose to think differently but what do I know ?

It's wasn't bad actually and we discussed the reasons for, and the implications of, speeding. Among other things we talked about bad driving techniques and the road rage that often follows.

Anyway, all that aside, it's time to pull out my soapbox and climb on board.

Both going and coming back, but mostly coming back, the weather was horrendous with heavy rain and the usual lack of visibility that comes with it. That was compounded on the motorways by the spray from speeding vehicles (not speeding in the context of what I've said earlier - just speeding as in.......well speeding along). If ever there was a need for having your dipped headlights on, this was it. And yet what did I see - or barely see, to be more accurate ? Loads of idiots driving along with no lights on at all as if it was a glorious sunny afternoon.

I just don't get it. I'd love to talk to one of these people and ask them what's wrong with them ? I mean, REALLY. Along with driving along in the middle lane of a motorway when the inside lane is free and not indicating when exiting a roundabout, it's my biggest driving peeve. I try not to get stressed but God help me, it's not easy.

I don't mind these people killing themselves.......more power to them. But their stupidity is just as likely, if not more likely, to get others killed instead.

Maybe their argument is that they can see perfectly well in conditions like we were experiencing today so why use lights? After all it was only 5pm on a July afternoon and not really dark at all. This totally misses the main point in using lights during bad weather. You don't do it to SEE but to BE SEEN. Come on people, it's not rocket science.

I'd be trying to change lanes with a steamed up car, windscreen wipers going like Paris Hilton's legs in prison (ok cheap shot) and with low visibility everywhere. Like a good boy I'd check my rear view mirror first and what would I see ? Well about a dozen cars far enough behind me to not really stop me changing lanes. And how come I saw them through the gloom and rain and spray from my own tyres ? Because they had their lights on !! Yeahhhhhh. So I indicate to show my intentions and immediately I hear a horn blast and looking back again I see a car I'd not seen before, flashing his lights at me. Oh they did work then !

I'd not seen it before because it had no lights on and was a dark colour. It just didn't stand out against all the other cars with their lights on.

I know I've laboured the point now but if it's so obvious, why doesn't EVERYONE do it ? Actually one good thing I did learn at the course was that soon all cars will have to have their lights on....ALL THE TIME. God bless the EU for that one. Can't come soon enough for me.

And don't get me started on the others who use their 'side lights' and think that's enough. It's not. My theory is that the bigger the car, the less use these side lights are. The classic example is a Rolls Royce. I've seen bigger and brighter lights on a lightning bug !

So when I pull up along side them or they do the same to me, I can't really indicate with pulsing hands signals that they need to put their lights on. They simply look bemused as they know they already have them on. Yes but they're like using 2 tealight candles to light the Vatican.

Useless.

I'd really love one of those moving advertising signs on my back window so I could let these people know what I think. It might cause road rage but it would help lower my stress levels and let me concentrate on my speed a bit more. Oh yes, my speed. Dang it, I forgot about that.

You know, I'm really not sure going to that course today did me any good at all !!

Oh I Don't Like To Be Beside The Seaside.

Yesterday was a pretty nice day, weatherwise, and I fancied a drive to somewhere new.

I decided to plan where to go over another delicious and cheap carvery meal at The Wellington on Wetherby Road which has rapidly become my eatery of choice and it's hard to resist if I'm passing within 5 miles of it with a rumbling stomach.

So I tucked in to ham and turkey with Yorkshire puddings, new potatoes, peas, carrots and delicious thick gravy with my UK A-Z next to me and tried to decide where to go. I settled on finding somewhere east of Leeds as it's still pretty much a black hole when it comes to my personal travel experiences. I wanted the seaside but with something a bit more than sand and candy floss to keep me photographically entertained for the day.

Grimsby it was then. Never been before and I thought I'd get to see some fishing boats in an idyllic harbour setting. As time was getting on, I skipped any ideas of taking a scenic route, if indeed there was one from Leeds to Grimsby, and opted for the M62/M18/M180 all the way there.

No sooner had I made it onto the M62 than I hit trouble. The overhead signs showed that due to an incident, the motorway was reduced to one working lane up ahead.

This is an exciting photo of us on that one lane.

Actually I was doubly cheesed off as, in merging from three lanes to one, I went past a vehicle that I would have photographed if traffic had been flowing normally. It was some sort of a trike contraption but one unlike anything I'd seen anywhere, even in America.
It looked from behind like a standard 3 wheel vehicle but the bike part, although obviously fixed to this frame, moved independently in some way. Hard to explain but after the traffic merge it was way behind me and I never saw it again.

The debris from the incident, whatever it had been, was being swept up when I passed it and I'm sure the motorway was back to 3 lanes soon afterwards.

I reached Grimsby without any further delays and it was good to have been on new roads to me.
I actually smelled (or smelt) the town before I saw it and I got some idea of what it would be like to live in a house made of fish fingers. Handy for late night snacking but hard on the nose.

I drove around the docks for a while but only saw high walls and closed gates and the occasional teasing view of a mast. I finally stopped at a security gate post and asked where would be the best location from which to photograph the fishing fleet and although he didn't exactly laugh, the guard said there was no fleet anymore. The fishing industry in Grimsby was essentially history and anyway, thanks to Mr. Bin Laden and his cronies, the docks were off limits to the general public. I wasn't sure what was left to keep secure or even why any terrorist would want to blow up a fishing fleet at the best of times, but I drove on into the town............

......and right out the other side. There was nothing remotely interesting about Grimsby. I'd go so far as to say that if I lived there, I'd be trying to leave asap. I'll be kind and leave it at that.

Just 2 miles away and almost joined to it, is the seaside resort of Cleethorpes. I still wanted to see water and walk on sand and so, bitterly disappointed with Grimsby, I drove on to Cleethorpes.

Oh boy. It was everything I hated about UK seaside towns with it's miles of sad old slot machine arcades, unhealthy food outlets and decidedly antique rides spoiling what could've been a lovely promenade next to a wonderful length of clean sandy beach.

Ok I suppose every seaside resort has to have ice cream, fish and chips, candy floss and so on but PLEASE get rid of the arcades.

Most of the ones in Cleethorpes looked like they'd not been painted since the 50's and everything about them reeked of a time long gone - like the customers.


This small Ferris Wheel was the only amusement offering on the beach side of the promenade and further on was the 134 year old pier which does have one claim to fame - it's the shortest pier in the country.

With the decline of such structures, it's changed hands numerous times over the decades and seems to have lost money for whoever owned it.

Another reason for not liking Cleethorpes was that you had to pay 90p ($1.80) to park for an hour anywhere along the promenade and although I understand that the town has to make money wherever it can, I feel there should always be free parking for a Renault Clio at the seaside. It just makes sense and should be a law. Anyway I parked and moved a few times and never paid and displayed. I'm a rebel.

Across the road from a particular line of arcades was this solitary eatery - why we like to slap "USA" or "American" on lots of our eating places just because they sell hotdogs or donuts is beyond me.

I'm not sure what menu items ordained that this place should class itself as a USA Take-A-Way but I'm quite sure that the quantity, if not the quality, would have made a visiting American raise an eyebrow or two.

It wasn't so much a take away as a stay away as the customers were giving the place a wide berth.

Further along the prom and beyond the pier, things got a little better, visually if not gastronomically. The sky was a tad overcast and being mid afternoon on a weekday with many school still in session, there weren't many people out and about. All the more ozone for me then and I took in great lungfulls and enjoyed the views.

The prom was wide, very clean and - empty for the most part. The sand was clean too and very soft underfoot. Like with most beaches on the eastern side of the UK, the tide went out a long way and this, coupled with the cool temperature and a lack of tourists, meant only a few brave souls were frolicking.

Now I enjoy a good frolic as much as the next person but I was happy to just walk on the sand with no wish to dip my digits into the water. The air temp needs to be above 80F and the sea temp not far behind before I dip my delicate bod into it. Actually I think the last time I had a swim in open water in the UK was when the paint on those arcade places was still fresh. I kid you not, it's probably been the best part of 40 years.

A short walk later and it was obvious that the tide was coming in......from Norway or somewhere. You still had to walk half a mile to get your ankles damp

This didn't stop some people rushing out to meet the tide halfway or, in the case of this dad and little girl, playing that old favourite seaside game called "now where did you hide Daddy's car keys, sweetheart" ?

I think that's what was wrong with this trip to Cleethorpes and it wasn't really the town's fault. There were so few kids around that the place had an out of season feel to it. Give it another few weeks and I bet it'll be rocking. Maybe.

As usual, what the place lacked in youths (or yutes...hehe) , it made up for in golden oldies. It's a simple but time honoured recipe : take one seaside resort, add a dash of wooden benches or deckchairs, throw in a few wrinklies and voila........the perfect mix.

There wasn't much worth watching on their home tv so George and Mildred here decided to get out and watch the ships passing towards Hull.

"I've had enough of this show, George"
"I like it, baby. And it's great in widescreen"
"But it's boring. Change the channel"
"It's not a channel, Mildred, it's an estuary"
"Nobody likes a smart ass, George"

I drove to the end of the promenade road and things livened up. There was a cute coastal train to ride, some sort of water park, a shopping plaza and fast food outlets galore. The ice creams, donuts and candy floss at the other end of the prom had given way to original recipe chicken and bigmacs. Similarly unhealthy and similarly nummy. I gave in to temptation and had a 2 piece Colonel Meal which was my first fast food meal in 6 months so I didn't beat myself up about it. I even saved one chicken piece till today.

By now it was 6pm and Cleethorpes was closing down for the day. The coastal train had stopped and if you wanted an ice cream along the prom, tough. I took the hint and left too.

Maybe I'm not a seaside person although it's really the seaside town that I have issues with. I don't 'do' amusement rides. I try not to eat unhealthy (if nummy) food. I detest arcades. So that just leaves the water and the beach. I like both of those and so the next time I decide to feel the hot sand between my toes and have the urge to jump headlong into the warm breaking waves I'll know what to do.

Go to Florida !

A Very Unique Post

As a certified Grumpy Old Man and Victor Meldrew clone, I hated learning today that one of my pet peeves needs to be qualified, toned down or even discarded completely. It's been like losing a family pet, a close friend or even a footy team I've supported for well over 30 years. I'm just not sure I can do it.

It all started this morning when I glanced at my digital watch to make sure I was up and about in time to watch the start of the cricket on tv. Oh don't even THINK about teasing me on that one. I told you I'm in mourning so don't kick me when I'm down. I LIKE watching cricket on tv, ok !! Just let it go and move on.

Anyway the watch display caught my bleary eyes attention as the row of numbers along the top which show the date, read 070707. Putting aside my disappointment that I hadn't been awake to see the time register 0707 several hours ago, I thought about how unusual this sort of date really was. Well I had to constantly stir my porridge for 5 minutes so my mind needed something to focus on.

For a start it's one of those rare dates when we're in sync with our American cousins who yet again decided to be different and put the month first when specifying dates. It's also when I don't have to remember that my watch was bought over there and so do a sort of mental switch around every time I use it to check the date. Thankfully it's not something I need to do very often.

So it's a unique date then. Or is it ? Well with the cinnamon and raisins combining nicely in my porridge, I discussed this question with myself. How many days in history will ever be written down as 070707 ? Well.....only this one of course. Hmmmmm. Ok then, how many days will be written down as tomorrow's date, 080707 (or 070807 for Americans) ? Again only one. So on that basis, EVERY date is unique. Rats.

So why has 070707 taken my eye ? It's not even a palindrome unless you put it in groups of 2 numbers or remove the zeros and that's just cheating. Well it's one of those dates when it's almost a pleasure to write a cheque (or check) or fill in a form as your pen fairly speeds across the paper - 070707. Woooohooooo.

And so that was that. The date today is just a minor amusing series of numbers which combine to be unique in the sense that every date is unique. Ah but once again I'd woken the Kraken that is the word UNIQUE.

Almost numero uno on my list of pet peeves has been the use of the word unique in modern society. For me it was always pretty clear - unique came from the Latin unicus meaning ONE. As so, it cannot be preceded by anything like 'somewhat' or 'very' or 'almost' as these would be superfluous at best and downright bad grammar at worst. So I'd go easily into Meldrew Meltdown Mode anytime I'd hear "quite unique", "very unique" and the most irritating of all......."one of the most unique" Grrrrrrrrrr.

But then I decided to do something I'd never done before. Something unique in fact. I looked the word up in a dictionary. Just to be sure of my facts, you know :

Function: adjective

1 : being the only one : SOLE
2 a : being without a like or equal : UNEQUALED
b : distinctively characteristic : PECULIAR
3 : UNUSUAL

usage Many commentators have objected to the comparison or modification (as by somewhat or very) of unique, often asserting that a thing is either unique or it is not. Objections are based chiefly on the assumption that unique has but a single absolute sense, an assumption contradicted by information readily available in a dictionary. Unique dates back to the 17th century but was little used until the end of the 18th when, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, it was reacquired from French. Around the middle of the 19th century it ceased to be considered foreign and came into considerable popular use. With popular use came a broadening of application beyond the original two meanings (here numbered 1 and 2a). In modern use both comparison and modification are widespread and standard but are confined to the extended senses 2b and 3. When sense 1 or sense 2a is intended, unique is used without qualifying modifiers.

Qualifying modifiers are allowed !! What, what, what !!! My world was turned upside down. My porridge stuck in my throat. (That was more likely due to not using enough milk though).

Oh great. So now when some young whipper snapper VDJ on MTV says that the latest one hit wonder has a 'very unique voice", I have to work out the sense implied before I can rant and rave and fire off an email to The London Times about the lack of basic education shown on tv these days.

We are NOT amused. 070707 will certainly go down in my life as the day I lost something very close to me. I lost something to grumble about. I lost something to get on my soapbox about.

I lost........something quite unique.

I'm Back

Well I've not actually BEEN anywhere but as it's been a while since I posted, I thought it sounded good to give the impression I had been away somewhere. Somewhere exotic maybe. A Nile cruise maybe.

Actually I did think about a Nile cruise today as I got an email holiday alert offering such a trip including air fare and 10 excursions for the remarkable price of £299. Wow. I love last minute offers.

With my mind calling up thoughts of spitting camels, sunkissed pyramids and some ghastly exotic diseases, I went to the site to checkout the small print and sure enough, there it was. "Price is based on 2 people sharing".

Sharing what ? A semi in Neasden ? The same surname ? A bit of tongue now and then ? Dammit. Where is that sister of mine when I need her - the one who moved down south years ago ? We were VERY close !!

Seriously (and I don't have a sister), once again a potential great holiday deal was taken away from me because I'm a sad old single. I'm considering patching up my inflatable 'friend' from 1972 and giving her another spin. Patches and all. I'm just not sure she'd stand up to the latest security screenings at the airport.

But one trip I will be taking is still 13 weeks away. I got my medical insurance sorted and bought my tickets for another winter in Florida. Given the summer weather we've had so far, I can't wait for winter.

The number 13 has raised it's dubious head elsewhere in my life too. Remember my speeding mishap in Wales (see one of the Welsh posts if not) and my lovely and well deserved letter from the North Wales Police thoughtfully inviting me to cough up £60 and they'd give me 3 points on my licence as a freebee ? Well they made me another offer shortly afterwards. If I went on a Speed Awareness Course, cost - £60, they'd not bother with the 3 points.

I was torn. Why ? Well 3 points would hardly be the end of the world and the course was being held back in North Wales. This would involve a round trip of 200 miles and even with the Clio purring along at 45mpg, that would still rack up about £19 in petrol costs.

Well I decided that points on my licence would be shameful, if nothing else, and so I accepted their kind offer. Today I got the letter giving me details of when I'm to attend and it's on Friday 13th July at..........13:00.

And who says the police don't have a sence of humour !!

Urban Nature

I spent the afternoon with a friend who recently moved from my street to her new home near Oakwood here in Leeds.

We went to the wonderful Wellington pub on Wetherby Road for their carvery meal (£3.25 has to be the best deal in the area) and it was just as well that we were happy with soda drinks as, due to yesterdays record breaking rainfall, their cellar had been flooded and no draught alcohol was available.

It was almost the pub with no beer, immortalised in a popular song I remember from my youth.

Afterwards we went back to her place for tea and chat and I was entranced by the bird feeder she had on her main living room window. It was a basic plastic contraption like a large square letter C and it fastened to the glass with suckers so that the bottom of the C was the feeding tray, the back was a see through panel and the top was a 'roof' to protect the food from gentle rain.

With me so far ? Good.

Well with this setup, I was able to sit in the comfort of the living room and watch up close as birds and squirrels came to partake of the food on offer. The presence of the window seemed to give them enough confidence to remain feeding even when I'd get quite close to the window but the birds, being much more skittish, never hung around very long.

There was a little rose bush just in front of the feeder and many birds would rest there before making the short flight across to the feeder tray.

This was a good thing as it was almost impossible to get a decent shot of a bird once it was in the tray as the whole contraption was quite small and the suckers and the plastic frame tended to spoil the view.

This was my first attempt at getting a bird before it moved across to feed. I have to say 'bird' as I've no idea what it's called.

As anyone who has read my posts will know, I'm useless at naming birds, flowers and just about anything in nature but that doesn't stop me liking to photograph them. This fella didn't hang around and was off a second after I took this shot.

The birds would give way at the table to the squirrels and the real fun was in watching how these cunning creatures would make their way to the food.

The feeder was on a window about 5 feet off the ground with no window ledge to use as a staging point. That left 2 options - to jump across from the rose bush or to jump up from the ground. The squirrel in this photo was deciding if the food on offer was worth taking option 1.

The jump across would've been a real act of faith as there was no knowing if the tray would hold their weight. No squirrel was willing to make that leap while I was there and so I was treated to squirrel heads bobbing up and down at the base of the window as they worked out how much effort was needed to leap further up to the feeder. It reminded me of that game at fun fairs where you have to smack the heads of some creatures (moles usually) as they pop up at random from various holes.

The commonest method they settled on was to leap up from the ground and somehow grip onto the upright window frame just across from the feeder and then, stretching across with one front leg, would make a successful, if not very elegant, transition to the feeder.

This provided great amusement as we'd be sitting chatting and suddenly a squirrel would appear noisily on the window frame as if fired from a cannon. Then there would be a great scraping of claws on glass and uPVC as it tried to get a grip on the frame and usually this was followed by a slow slide back down like in a scene from the Road Runner cartoon when the hapless (not so) Wile E. Coyote would splat into a canyon cliff face.

This 2nd squirrel photo shows it still thinking about making the leap across from the rose bush but this time I've moved position to get it head on. I never did get a photo of one hitting the window as it was all over so fast - a blur of fur and flailing claws.

Once the squirrels had eaten their fill, they left and the birds returned. Again I've no idea what this fella was called but he looked cute as he puffed out his little colourful chest. Bless.

It was all very enchanting. I posted some photos of a wire ball shaped bird feeder at my brother's house in Wales some weeks ago but this one was even better as it brought the 'customers' so much closer.

I plan to return and set up the camera on a little desk top tripod I have and connect it to my laptop. Using the remote capture software that came with it, I can take photos using the laptop to operate the shutter and hopefully get better photos of the skittish birds as I'll be much further away from the window.

I don't think I'll ever get any exciting species (Leeds isn't known as a migration staging post for any exotics birds) but I'd settle for a sharp image of a common tit.

Stop sniggering back there.

I Do Like Mondays

Yesterday I popped down to Nottingham to visit with a dear old friend of more than 30 years. As usual we reminisced. Seems to be in the air.

The last few posts have shown me to be in a reflective mood and as today is my birthday, the mood continues. Mind you, given the atrocious weather today, it's not a bad idea to be wallowing in nostalgia. It rained heavily for 18 hours and still may return before tomorrow.

Well it's the first day of Wimbledon, so what can we expect !

I like watching tennis. Ok I like watching most sports even though I don't play any on a regular basis. I've never been a Sporty Spice and having been a glasses wearer since my early teens, I was a bit of a non starter when it came to school contact games. I wouldn't have minded soccer but my school insisted we play Gaelic Football and Hurling and given that both involved plenty of 'contact' and very little 'sport' I hated them both. Hurling can be especially hazardous as it combines a hard ball, a stick/bat called 'a hurl' ' to scoop this ball up and smack it to another team member or towards the goal and 15 opposition players trying their damnest to stop you doing both. Take this quote from the rules of hurling...........

Side to side shouldering is allowed although body-checking or shoulder-charging is illegal. No protective padding is worn by players, and although a plastic protective helmet with faceguard is recommended, this is not mandatory for players over 21.

Protective helmets !! No such mamby pamby safety gear in my day. The only protection we had were our skulls and young, still developing bones, were regularly bashed and generally subjected to all sorts of legal and illegal strikes. Of course we'd all been hardened by the legal and illegal moves made on us by the priests/teachers but that's another story. Your honour.

We also had handball. Now that's not the game most people think of when the name is mentioned and for all I know, it was unique to our school ! We had 3 or 4 handball courts which looked a bit like outdoor roofless squash courts. Like squash you hit the small ball at the serving wall in front of you and assuming it was above a service line on this wall, the ball was in play and could be smacked back to the wall making use of any of the other walls on the way.

The HUGE difference between it and squash was that no racket was involved - you used the palm of your hand to propel the ball and yes, it could really hurt. You could always spot good players who played a lot as they were the ones with hands like baseball mitts/wicket keeper gloves and you tried to avoid shaking hands with them.

But it was a (mostly) non contact sport so was on my short list of games I liked to play.

When I left school, I never saw or even heard of it again. Maybe I made it up. I made up a lot of things at school. I was a kid. It was my job. As Mark Twain said, I never let schooling interfere with my education.

In later life I took up golf. Another game where you hit a small ball. I've never played often enough to get very good at it but I still like it. Most of the time it may be a good walk spoiled (supposedly Mr. Twain again) but if nothing else, I get the walk as a bonus.

But back to today. Do I feel older ? Hell yes. The golf swing causes me to ache the next day. A long walk causes me to ache the next day. Eating an Indian or Chinese meal makes me ache the next day.

I'm going to skip tomorrow and go straight to Wednesday.

I Remember Nostalgia

I've always been interested in the charts...the music charts that is.

At school in the early 60's I'd listen to the new weekly singles chart with all the giddy excitement that a pre-teen could acceptably muster as a Catholic in an all boy's boarding school without needing to go to confession the next day.

Rivalries were common, of course, and we all had our favourite groups or soloists who we would defend to the hilt - even if their current release would've made Stock, Aitken and Waterman blush. The main split was between those who bought Beatles records and those who favoured The Stones.

I didn't like either and it says everything about my lifetime musical tastes that my first bought single was "Mirror, Mirror" by Pinkerton's Assorted Colours. Hey it's not often you get to hear an electric auto harp on a song ! You could keep your Beatles and Stones.

That started me along the exciting, flower powered, substance sniffing, hotel room trashing, rock and roll world of......middle of the road music ! I graduated to heavies like Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Tich, Rolf Harris and Peter Sarstedt with a dangerous dash of locals like Val Doonican and The Bachelors thrown in for good measure. Heady days indeed.

Like every teen in the UK, I'd watch Top Of The Pops and from my viewing point in 60's N. Ireland, the glamour of the show was a million miles away on another planet. Planet London in fact but it might as well have been Planet Mars.

Over the decades we aged together and I watched and listened to fashion fads and musical styles come and go. Through it all, even though I may not have liked much of the music, I felt that by watching the show and keeping an active interest in the weekly charts, I was somehow still 'with it' and 'hip' even though my use of both those phrases clearly showed I wasn't either and that, in fact, I'd long since lost touch with musical reality.

Throughout the 80's and 90's I was able to name most of the songs played on Radio 1 and could even name many of the DJ's. Still I'd check the charts and although the names were becoming more and more bizarre to me, I stuck with it and could hold my own in music related conversations.

My own tastes were still very much down the middle of that same road with artistes like Elton John, ELO, Queen, Moody Blues, Rod Stewart, Celine Dion, Madonna (early years only) and Picketywitch.

Ok, maybe not the last one.

As we moved into the new century, I found it harder and harder to enjoy, or even understand , much of the music in the charts and regressed more and more to the decade I knew most about and 'felt 'comfortable in......the 60's. Thank God for Oldies radio stations and then, with the combination of the internet and mp3 downloads, I was able to collect every single I ever wanted from that decade..........even that one by Pinkerton's Assorted Colours. The circle was complete.

These days I admit I've lost the plot completely, so to speak. It started long before TOTP's came to an historic end but even that event seemed to mirror my capitulation to modern musical tastes. I read the singles and album charts now and again but don't know 99% of the artists. I want my groups to have names starting with 'The'. It also seems to me that there are no solo artistes anymore as evidenced by the proliferation of the abbreviation 'ft' (as with the current number one "Umbrella" by Rihanna ft Jay-Z). What's that all about, as Peter Kay would say ? It's a whole new world and one that mystifies me now.

In conversations with younger people I might say I like the Arctic Monkeys and Kaiser Chiefs even if I'm not too sure if the first are some sort of ice bound simian primates and the other are a little known tribe of lederhosen wearing Germanic Indians. I just cannot admit to being musically backward.

But I am. I'm a musical dinosaur, liking my music over easy and expecting my groups to have a lead singer, a couple of guitarists and a drummer.

And so imagine my surprise when I looked at the current album charts and saw that 7 of the Top 10 were what I'd classify as 'oldies but goldies'. The top 3 were The Travelling Wilburys, Bon Jovi and The Police. No.5 was Genesis, No.6 was Hank Marvin (what's the betting he'll be emailing Cliff, packing his bags in some Perth suburb and jetting back to become the darling of the chat show circuit), No.9 was The Who and closing out the Top 10 wass Paul (Bus Pass) McCartney.

Can you imagine the combined age of that lot !! Cream rises to the top and all that.

For a while I had thoughts of a new lease of musical life. I might have started looking at the charts again on a regular basis. I might have tuned in to MTV or VH1 now and then. Who knows, I might even have moved back to Radio 1 and abandoned Terry, Ken, Steve and Chris for a while.

Had the musical world come round to my way of thinking ?

Had the great British paying public risen up as one and decided to give the oldies another chance ?

Sadly no. The charts simply reflect the fact that today is 17th June. Father's Day. Nuff said.

I'm off to play "Mirror, Mirror", have a good old wallow and be there with Terry in the morning.

Combining Habits

My previous post opened up long forgotten personal memories of childhood and relatives - and for me, the two didn't often provide happy memories.

I was an incredibly shy and introverted kid and all my life, I have never felt comfortable in a group of people.

Part of my problem grew from having very outgoing, extrovert and confident relatives - at least on my mum's side. We didn't spend much time with those on dad's side and even he enjoyed the in-laws more than his own family members.

As I mentioned in that post, mum was one of 12 and that meant 6 aunts and 5 uncles and half were in farming in some way or another. Two of the aunts and 2 of the uncles moved to England either before I was born or not long after. This still left plenty and when I was around them, I felt intimidated by their confidence.

I did have favourites and even though I never saw much of her, I loved my Aunt Louisa. There were 2 good reasons for not seeing her a lot. First she was one of the aunts who lived in England and second, she was a Mother Superior in a closed order convent !! Basically nuns there were not allowed to leave the premises.

Before I left for a life in England myself, the Vatican changed the rules (oh now what a surprise) and the nuns could leave from time time to time if they wanted. Aunt Louisa, or Sister Perpetua, to give her 'religious' name, would visit maybe once or twice a year and was so different from my other aunts that I loved her from the first time I met her.

She was a Whoopi Goldberg meets Julie Andrews sort of nun. Very funny, didn't seem particularly zealous at all and was a hoot to be around. She lit up a room with her presence and personality - although as we always associated with Catholics, her appearance was guaranteed to be a crowd pleaser on so many levels !

One event stands out vividly in my mind and again it's from the days when summers were long and hot and I never wanted them to end. It was hay bailing time and this WAS hard work back then. My uncle had invested a fortune in a new combine harvester which pooped out the classic
boxed bales of hay and not the huge wheel types that we see these days. They may have been smaller but they were still a challenge for a puny teenager to haul up onto a trailer to take back from the field to the farm.

But it was still fun. The craic was great and although I rarely contributed to any of it, I started my lifelong fascination with listening to people. When you are shy, there isn't a lot else to do !!

Mid afternoon, Aunt Louisa hovered out (I always thought when women became nuns, they traded in their shoes for some hover mechanism as it seemed to me that they glided everywhere on a sort of celestial cushion of air) to bring us some lemonade in true 'cotton picking' style. As usual she was taking some friendly banter from her family members for not 'mucking in' and helping with the hay bailing and, with that wicked glint in her eye that I loved to bits, she said she'd help out by driving the harvester.

No one was more surprised than her when her oldest brother and the owner of the harvester said....ok then, up you go !!!

I took this photo. It's slightly faded due to age and, being taken several decades before digital photography came about, has had to be scanned to get it up here.

It's one of my favourite photos as it completely sums her up in my mind. It's a 'caption photo' if ever I saw one and my effort was made in the title of this post.

It makes me smile to see it now as it immediately takes me back to those carefree sunny summer days when I didn't have to be constantly worried about being bullied at school for my shyness, my looks and the fact that I came from a small rural village.

I was out in the fresh air, out in the fields and on this particular occasion, out with a wonderful aunt who made me feel that I WAS special. She listened to me, gave me advice and generally was there for me and I was all the better for knowing her. Her smile and laughter lit up a room and lit up the heart of a small timid boy who needed such a light in his life then.

That light went out suddenly, and much too soon, on 19th October 1980 and I often wonder what part she'd have played in my life if she'd been around longer.

As it is, she probably left an indelible impression on many people in her 'professional' life as you can't become a Mother Superior without doing so. But for me she was always Aunt Louisa and I will never forget what she meant to me.

The phrase about a picture being worth a thousand words has never been so true.

Just Call Me Harry.

Many decades ago, when we all lived in a sepia world, I would often spend my summer holidays on a relatives farm in N. Ireland. I had many relatives on my mother's side alone as she was one of twelve (my grandparents were THAT Catholic) and many of these relatives had farms.

It's strange how, when we look back on the summer holidays of our childhood, they all seem to be filled with long hot days and the occasional slightly damp night. Ahhhh the joys of puberty.

Now when I say holidays, I don't mean I sat around on the grand farmhouse patio, sipping lemonade from a tall glass while the paid help milked the cows or gathered in the crops or worried the sheep.

I was put to work and it wasn't easy, I can tell you. Well I just have.

Never mind some la-di-da big girls blouse prison. They should've sent Paris Hilton to a working farm for 16 hours or how ever long she's going to end up spending away from mommy and daddy and a toilet seat that isn't encrusted with the number two's of LA's not so finest.
That would've sorted her out in no time and given her a much different personal fragrance to boot.

Anyway, down on the farm, one particular day will live with me forever and, in classic style, the scars will also be with me forever. Well one scar at least.

I've no idea what age I was on the day in question, but lets say I was.....12. That would make sense as I'd have been old enough to have been home from boarding school (oooh get him !!) and yet still young enough to have felt I was indestructible. By days end, so did everyone else.

I loved to ride on the tractor. Hell I loved to DRIVE the tractor and on a farm, a 12 year old could do that now and then when uncle was being generous and aunty wasn't looking. On this day we were cutting up the soil in a field and so the tractor was pulling a piece of machinery I called a disc but I think was really called a harrow.

Here is a picture of one I found on t'internet so will probably get sued for pinching it. First offence, gov'ner.

The one we were pulling wasn't hinged in the middle like this one is, but was one long line of razor sharp disks which, when dragged over the soil, would carve it up and so let air get down into it. Actually our harrow had 2 rows of discs, to be sure, to be sure. There endeth my knowledge of the contraption and it's uses.

I said I sometimes worked on the farm. Never said I knew much about it.

Now even the non farmers among you may have noticed that not many tractors are set up for passengers. Well not back in sepia day at least. Farming is mainly a solitary career and as well as being short on cigarette lighters, pine air freshener 'trees' and furry dice, tractors have only one seat. Muggins was happily perched on a cushion fashioned out of a couple of jackets and wedged between the one seat and the huge right side wheel arch....on top of the axle really.

Normally this would have been a fairly secure location as the wheel arch provided good support for my right hand and I could grab some part of the seat with my left hand. Given the noise of a tractor at full revs, few words could be exchanged between uncle and myself which was fine as nothing needed to be said anyway. I was enjoying being out in the fresh air (built in air conditioning came as standard) and was bouncing along in a world of my own.

The next thing I knew, I was being fussed over in the farmhouse by some frantic relatives and feeling that I was having the worst hangover in history - if I'd known what that felt like at 12.

It appears my uncle suddenly sensed he truly was alone and when he looked to his right, I wasn't there. With no real evidence to go on, theories abounded within the family from.................

- the jackets shifted under me and I slid backwards off the tractor.

- I glanced back to look at the birds trailing us and slid backwards off the tractor.

- we hit a slight bump in the field and I slid backwards off the tractor.

- I was depressed by the onset of puberty and flung myself backwards off the tractor.


The one thing in common was..........I'd left the tractor in a backwards direction and this meant I had to have been run over by the twin rows of the harrow. I have no memory of the incident at all and as it was such a long time ago, I have little memory of what happened after it. I do remember lots of raised, slightly stressed voices and a bit of crying - although that was probably coming from me.

My only injury was a cut on the side of my forehead which, being a head wound, bled a lot. I don't know if I got stitches or if I even was taken to a doctors or a hospital - farms, by their nature, aren't close to hospitals or even towns for that matter.

So why do I not remember more details ? Well for years afterwards, the story of my miraculous survival was recalled at every family gathering and believe me, there were plenty of them. Every time it was mentioned, some seemingly small detail was either missed out or exaggerated and after a while, it was being said that "he was blown 10 feet into the air off a speeding tractor don't ye know, and fell under the spinning discs of some hellish agricultural behemoth and then his uncle, in a panic, reversed over the poor lad a few times for good measure. Another pint for me, Shemus".

The one constant in all this was that a blessed miracle had taken place. You can always trust good Catholics to put a positive spin on everything and I was talked about in whispered tones as some sort of early Jose Mourinho (ok an obscure reference, I know). The reason for this miracle was down to my wearing a cloth scapular around my neck and this was always worked into the story.

Oh don't get me going on scapulars. They seem to be the religious equivalent of Nectar Points and like a lot of articles and practices in the Catholic Church, can get you a reduced 'sentence' if and when you end up in Purgatory. Strange.......Paris Hilton just flashed into my mind again.

Go to the site and read about them if you want and find out about the bizarre world I grew up in. My theory is that the scapular got caught on some moving part of the tractor and that is what caused me to be violently pulled backwards off my snug and cozy jacket seat in the first place.

In any case, I've carried the scar ever since - I once tried to leave it on the top of a sightseeing bus in Paris but it found it's way back to me.

It's a sort of lightning bolt scar and it flares up every so often. Not so much miraculous as........magic.

A Snail's Pace

This is a first, I think.

The first time I've created a post based on a single photograph.

I was getting ready for bed about 2am this morning and suddenly realised I'd not left my bin out for collection. Now the wagon tends to drive by any time around 10am and I'm never in a fit state for anything at that time so I try to leave it out the night before.

So dressed only in my flapping dressing gown, I wheeled my bin to the end of the driveway and as I stood back, something caused me to look down and I saw a snail moving along the pavement.

Now this probably happens all the time but I've never actually seen it before.......well not one as large as this one anyway. It was huge and the shell looked almost pretty in the moonlight. Ok remember I WAS tired....not drunk.....but tired.

I went inside and got my camera and was faced with a tricky situation; it was too dark for the auto focus to work and when I set the lens to manual, I couldn't see enough to do it myself either.

So I took a series of photos at different settings and hoped for the best. What this must've looked like to anyone glancing out their bedroom windows will thankfully never be known. I was flashing in more ways than I really wanted to but as it was 2am, I felt sure my antics would go unnoticed by any sleepless neighbours.

Here is the result.............................












Not the most exciting post ever........but then it's been a bit of a slow day ! Sorry.

Wales - Day 7

Thursday, my last full day in Wales and I spent most of it in a castle.

It's like that there......castles everywhere. Castles to spare.

I left Aberangell and headed north on the A470 to Dolgellau. In fact I stayed on the A470 all the way up to the north coast as my destination was Conwy. But I needed personal fuel for the trip and went back to the same cafe in Dolgellau that I'd been to on Monday.

It was one of those occasions when what I wanted to say, didn't come out right. I just meant that when I'd left the cafe on Monday, it never entered my mind that I'd be back in Dolgellau wanting breakfast again given my touring plans. What came out of my mouth was "hello, I ate here on Monday and I never thought I'd be back here again".

Opps. Even though I tried to talk my way out of it, I'm sure the cook was told to add something 'extra' to my breakfast. My egg did seem a bit more runny than last time !!

Afterwards, my drive north took me the other way up the steep Bwlch Oerddwrs pass that I'd been on the previous day and I was pleased to see that my fence post 'flower' was still in place. It's needs it's own webcam so I can keep an eye on it. See to it, someone.

At noon I approached Conwy on the north Welsh coast and once again I found a castle that was not only impressive but was totally visible from the main road.

With no town map to hand, I just drove on over this bridge and as I went past the castle, the road split two ways. One clearly went into the town centre and the other, the one to the left and the one I took, went under a part of the castle walls and immediately became so narrow that vehicles had to take turns to pass through the stone arch.

Even large cars risked losing their wing mirrors but my little Clio was fine.

Once through the arch, I noticed a bowling green on the left which was in the shadows of the castle and there was a small road next to it where several cars were already parked. There were no signs that you had to pay to park on this road and so I found a spot and once settled, I couldn't believe the view out the passenger window.

This was the photo I took from inside the car and I'd have been happy enough to have driven off at that point as I'd no intention of going up into the castle anyway.

I'm not a great one for going into castles as mostly there is not much left to see and we ARE sort of blessed with loads of them in this country so I've seen my fair share.

I set off to walk back up to the split in the road and go into the town. After only a few yards I heard a noise and looked to my right and saw there was a train passing along the side of the castle. How clever of them to build a castle so close to a railway line as this must have been so handy when the royals fancied a trip down south. A nice relaxing start to a Crusades trip maybe. Always good to get to The Holy Land all refreshed and ready for a good scrap.

Seriously though, it was cool to see this mix of old and new. It was a first for me, that's for sure.
The structures added for the railway line weren't totally in balance with the castle walls but only 600 years of weathering can do that.

I walked on up the road back through the arch - having to time it so a car wasn't passing through as there wasn't room for us both.

Just before taking the fork into town , I went down to the harbour. On the way, I passed this building that I initially thought was a pub.

It turned out to be a place for finding out about family crests and coats of armour and all that good stuff. The huge SALE sign kinda spoiled the view in this photo but come on, how often do you see a full suit of armour outside of a museum ? I'll photoshop the SALE sign out later.

There wasn't a great deal to see along the waterfront - apart from great views looking back up at the castle. I walked out over the road bridge that I'd come in on as I wanted to check out a foot bridge that led to the castle.

When I found that it didn't lead into the castle and that the 'jobs worth' toll collector wouldn't even left me stand on it to take a photo without crossing his palm with silver, I left him to it.

I got back to the fork and headed down the narrow road to town. Even without the wall and the castle, Conwy was a neat little place with clean streets and not too much in the way of tourist tat. As with every town I'd been to in Wales, there were no obvious fast food outlets at all and they were the better for it.

I did sucomb to an ice cream, however, as the sun was out and it was getting quite warm - and I'd walked a fair distance already. I picked soft scoop which the purists would moan about but which I always prefer over other types. They did have rum and raisin flavour and I WAS tempted but stuck to my original choice and walked around the streets happy with my decision.

As seems the way with most castle towns, Conway had steep streets going off in all directions and with it being a walled town, every so often a street would have an arch crossing it - although not many as narrow as this one.

Again only one vehicle could pass through it at a time and this was the perfect urban speed control solution.

Who needs those awful 'sleeping policemen' or speed cameras when all you need is a narrow archway. Brilliant.

Ice cream devoured and wanting a change of scenery, I went back up to the castle and had a look at the displays and information brochures inside the entrance complex. I suddenly decided to pay and go inside the castle as it looked quite complete as opposed to an outer shell with little or nothing still remaining inside.

There are plenty of web sites with better photographs of Conwy Castle than I was able to get but I'll include a few here - I took about 50 as, after all, I WAS there and it was incredibly picturesque.

It was built by Edward 1, King of England, between 1283 and 1287 and as work only went on during March to October each year ( labourers were a lazy bunch and had a good union even back then ), that was amazingly fast by any standards. It has 8 towers and the 4 which look back into Wales, so to speak, have extra towers added to the top of the already tall ones as you can see in this photo. I don't know the reason for this design feature - maybe the lookouts needed more height when keeping a watchful eye out for tourists....sorry, fearsome warriors........approaching from the land side.

All were accessible and I climbed every one even though there were over 100 winding steps to their open tops. The views were spectacular and it was fun to see heads and bodies popping up on the tops of ajacient towers.

I think most people, and there weren't many of them this day, were satisfied with getting to the top of just one tower as after all, they were pretty much all the same. Muggins, on the other hand, spurred on by having actually handed over pension money and feeling the need to photograph everything from every possible angle, went up the lot. If it was above ground level, I was up it.

I did make myself useful by taking photos of other tourists. When I see couples taking photos of each other or trying to set up their tiny digital cameras without a tripod to get them both in the picture, I always offer to take the photo for them.

I have much more success doing this when I actually have my own camera gear with me as then they don't think I'm an opportunist thief who would more likely run off with their camera than take a photo of them with it.

If only they knew that age and health prevent me from running anywhere these days. I guess I could cunningly stroll away with their precious camera but I'm sure even a couple with crutches and a walker could catch me within a few seconds.

Not that I would do so anyway. But hypothetically speaking..................

Located on the coast, the castle was a haven for birds, mostly seagulls. They were everywhere

but not in numbers sufficient to be a concern. I never had to worry about being dumped on from a great height when I WAS at a great height.

This much smaller bird was posing on a part of the ruins near me so I snapped it.

No idea, so don't ask. Not an albatross or a bald eagle but I'm out of ideas after that.

When I'd had my fill of the 4 taller towers on the landward (is there such a word ??) end of the castle, I moved along the battlements to look at the views over the town. This is the view of that same street I walked along earlier and you can see the narrow arch which forms part of the town wall.

You'll have to enlarge it of course.

By now I almost had the place to myself - and as I was up on one of the most complete medieval castles in the country, I was thrilled to not have to share it with anyone else.

I'd paid good money after all and wasn't used to sharing.

But I was aware that a certain wi-fi router was due to be delivered to my brother's house today and I needed to be back if it had arrived.

For once I blessed the invention of the cell phone and just for the hell of it, and to test out the bypass stitches once again, I climbed up to the top of a tower and did an ET. I have to admit that I was more than slightly thrilled to be told the router was not being delivered until the next day ( so much for all the promises, pain of death and so on ) and so I was free to stay longer and drive back at my leisure. Well we had a table booked at The Brigands Inn for 7:45 but it was only 2pm by this time.

I took one last shot from the far end of the battlements looking down on the A470, on the left, that I'd come in on.

The foot path or bridge to the right of the A470 is the one I'd wanted to go along earlier but was told it didn't lead into the castle.

Looking down on it, I'm puzzled where it DOES lead to in that case. I think I was told a porky.

After well over an hour I'd had enough and left the castle. I went back through the narrow road arch to get back to the car and was delighted to see that several games of bowls were taking place on the green between my car and the castle.

Crown green bowls or just bowls is another of the activities I used to associate with pre death experiences. Past life images flashing before your eyes, tax man knocking at the door, doctor telling you everything will be fine........... and playing bowls. All classic signs that you're on the way out.

But since buying a place in Florida and, ok getting on in years myself, I've had a rethink about such games. I love the bocce games we play in Florida and now quite fancy having a go at this more popular grass variant sometime.

I can't imagine many more scenic locations for playing bowls.

I drove around Conwy to see more of the town and the walls and then as time was getting on, I decided to go back to Aberangell.

Rather than head back down the A470 again, I checked the map and took the B5106 to Betws-y-coed as it ran parallel to the A470 so wouldn't take any longer but looked like it would give better views of the River Conwy.

It was a delightful little road and did offer wonderful views across the fields to the river.

I stopped at one point as there was a small pull off area and took this photo to remind me of the scene.

Then I drove on to Betws-y-coed and when I reached the junction with the A5 and saw a sign for the Swallow Falls, I took a slight detour as I'd heard they were well worth a visit.

I've since read that they are, quote "spectacular, among the 5 most visited tourist sites in Wales". Well that's an almost criminal statement and does Wales a great disservice. I wouldn't even class it among the 5 best tourist sites in that part of the junction with the A5.

I slid a pound coin into a slot, went through the turnstile and walked a few paces to see these Swallow Falls. There are 2 viewing areas and the lower one is apt to get you covered in a light spray from the falls. Neither show anything worth paying £1 for, in my opinion. Yes I took photos, many photos. Hey I'd paid £1 and wanted some memory of the occasion.........even if it was just to remind me that not all guide books and online sites are truthful.

I won't bore anyone with any of the photos I took as, really, they aren't worth your time. I've seen better, much better......even in mid Wales.

So I got back to Aberangell in time to change and shower ( or shower and change............ ) and head off with bro and sis-in-law for a lovely meal to thank them for putting up with me for the previous week.

My time in mid Wales had been a complete revelation. I'd been several times before but never to tour like this. Either it's been cold, wet and miserable or I'd not been in the right mood or all of those - but I never had particularly good thoughts about the country. That's all changed forever and thanks to whatever fading memory cells I still have, plus over 600 photos and about 30 mins of video (and this blog), I hope I can 'revisit' it often without leaving the house.

Of course it's only a 3 hour drive to Aberangell, so I might just go back before long and I strongly encourage YOU to get there too.

Just beware of police speed traps near Corris. And lots of sheep poop, and cow pats, and bird droppings, and.......................