Reasons to be cheerful Part 3 (b)

As a whole, this is not a particularly pretty village; in fact, it is three villages run together, Broughton, Primethorpe and Sutton in the Elms. Together, they constitute the largest village in Europe I'm told.

This is the newer part of the village; actually Primethorpe.

In the 80s, a new road bisected Sutton from Broughton and Primethorpe and the original road leading to the turnpike to Coventry was closed (in favour of the new bypass). This left Sutton isolated as a hamlet with a single cul de sac road.

However, all this is leading to this morning when, following a blustery, wet night, the day dawned bright and rainwashed, a bit cold in the wind, but not bad for January.

As Molly the spaniel and I went for our morning walk, I thought how beautiful the 'ordinary' English countryside really is.

Behind the village, the view over to Croft Hill (a granodiorite plug) where the first English Parliament met, is always a treat, and the valley in between, properly known as the Guthlaxton Gap, now dotted with settlements, is typical of the Leicestershire topography, soft and rolling.

The footpath leads past Messenger's Barn to Narborough,m then across the turnpike to Huncote, Cosby and Thurlaston.

The shallow, wide glacial valley behind the village is populated with a number of dairy farms and a couple of livery stables, but in the whole scheme of things, they don't dominate the landscape like arable farms with their fields full of barley, wheat and bright yellow rape. Only the neat hedges divide the countryside into walkable portions.

The bright Winter sun delineates the buildings sharply. this is the back of the Old Rectory and the Thatched Cottage, both just behind our cottage.

This is the field the Baptist Chapel intend to turn into a car park. I might mourn the loss of another field, but first of all, it's only rough grazing land and most of all, it will take much, if not all, of the opportunist parking that makes life difficult for those of us who live close by, especially Mrs R, who goes off the church in Huncote and comes back to find the road blocked and her usual parking space full.

This is not a reason to be cheerful. I did say it was a wet night. I suppose this villager is grateful that he decided to put raised beds in his allotment. At least they aren't flooded.

As we come back into the village, the parked cars are everywhere (Victorian Baptist Chapel on the right behind the graveyard).

More, and yet more cars parked all over the grass verge and footpath.

I can't wait for the new car park.

I just hope the congregation will actually use it!

Reasons to be cheerful, Part 3 (a)

Every time I pass these logs I get a warm feeling (funny thing about logs; they warm you 3 times: i. when you collect the wood; ii. when you cut them and stack them, and iii. when you burn them). This isn't, of course all of them; only about half. I still have plenty to stack.

- I have a similar theory about Bobby's curries... but I think we ought to leave that for another time.

This may not look like much, but if you go back down the blog to 12 October 2008, these are the bulbs I put in where I cleared up around the Stipa Gigantea. Without looking at the diary, I think they're fritillaries, but we'll soon see.

In some of the pots, the bulbs that haven't been eaten by the squirrels are also showing.

Non conformism and bad puns

What is it about Tabloid papers and non-conformist chapels and bad puns?

This one is in the grounds of our hexagonal Victorian Baptist chapel, but others I've seen recently, are: "Fight Truth Decay", "Fancy a new look? Get your faith lifted" and, maybe one of the worst: "Seven days without prayer makes one weak". (Give me strength!)

The only one I liked was on a Salvation Army chapel opposite the Imperial Hotel (a notorious drinking dive - not imperial at all) which said "Thirsting after righteousness".

Personally, I'd like to give a vote for "There's probably no god, so stop worrying and enjoy your life." - Yes, I know it's never going to appear on a wayside pulpit, but I'm not a great one for pulpits. AND... I am so waiting for the court case that Christian Voice is bringing against these notices on the basis that they are UNTRUTHFUL. I intend printing multiple copies of their evidence!

While I'm writing about the Baptist Chapel, I wondered why, when the windows are rather beautiful, those inside can't see them because the blinds are drawn.

But, this morning, they've lifted them just a little. Some sort of revelation, I presume.

Invasion of the moles

As we went for a walk this morning, i noticed a mole hill in one of my neighbour's flower beds - I say flower bed, but he never seems to plant anything in it. Well, of course, one mole-hill doesn't make a problem, but like rats, there's never a single mole!

Down the road, the grass verges are erupting;

along the backs, the moles are undermining the new fences at the Thatched Cottage and the Old Rectory.

Imagine my horror when I saw this: they're marching along the main road into the village. Soon we'll be overrun!

Reasons to be cheerful, Part 3

Those of us old enough to have been young in 1979 when Ian Dury & The Blockheads – released Reasons To Be Cheerful, Part 3 may recall the line, A bit of grin and bear it, a bit of come and share it....

So, although the weather was very cold and the village looked like this -

And Molly hated having cold, wet feet...


Some things were enhanced by the snow. This is the thatched cottage at the end of our garden.


And the rabbits came out (I suppose looking for food) and ran about to keep warm. Black ones really stand out in this sort of weather.

Anyway, now the snow has gone, the birds are on the feeders and in the bushes, and the trees are full of fat buds, so Spring can't be too far around the corner...can it?

Or is it just tonight's full moon making me loony?

Stamford Market, or not...

Friday 2nd January; we decided to go to Stamford to have a look around the market.

Marea really likes Stamford, partly because she was born there, but also because it’s a beautiful town. Development is strictly controlled and all building has to be done in the local limestone – it has over 600 listed buildings. It has been used in the past as setting for a number of period dramas: Middlemarch, Pride and Prejudice, The Da Vinci Code, etc. Anyway, when we got there, there was no market, just a few vegetable stalls down the side street.

We mooched about a bit, had a coffee and then went down to Sheep Market to look at the Golden Fleece, the pub where Marea was born. It’s not that her parents were particularly fond of strong drink, just that her grandfather owned it at the time.

The Golden Fleece, Sheepmarket, Stamford

The Golden Fleece, Sheepmarket, Stamford (with Marea)

The Eleanor Cross

Just opposite is the newly installed ‘Eleanor Cross’. The cross is a symbol of the legendary love story between Eleanor of Castile and her husband Edward I, and relates to the Eleanor Crosses which Edward built to commemorate the queen's final journey back from where she died near Lincoln to her burial in London. Stamford was one of 12 places where the crosses were built at the end of the 13th century, and all that remains of the original Stamford cross is a small stone fragment which can now be viewed in the town's museum. Local people say that this one is nothing like the original and is sited in the wrong place anyway.

According to Marea, no-one does fish and chips like Stamford fish and chips (apparently its all to do with the fat they cook them in), so we had to go and sample them. I have to say the fish was beautiful, though I found the batter a bit greasy. Not entirely a wasted day; we bought some nice veggies and went home to make leek and potato soup for the freezer.

A frosty New Year

New Year’s Day and no let up in the frost. The ground is iron hard and the trees covered with a fine coating. The birds are finding it hard.



I re-filled the bird feeders and scattered a few mealy grubs on the ground, but I’m sure I had more mealy grubs and couldn’t find them.

The lights were on in the calving shed up behind the house as I went to bed at about half past midnight and I could hear the beasts moaning. All was quiet this morning, so it looks like a good result.

As I strolled past the village allotments (for those not familiar with the idea, see http://permaculture.wikia.com/wiki/Allotment_(gardening) “In the United Kingdom, an allotment is a small area of land, let out at a nominal yearly rent by local government or independent allotment associations, for individuals to grow their own food. This could be considered as an example of a community garden system for urban and to some extent rural folk. The allotment system began in the 18th century: for example, a 1732 engraving of Birmingham, England shows the town encircled by allotments, some of which still exist to this day. Following the Enclosure Acts and the Commons Act of 1876 the land available for personal cultivation by the poor was greatly diminished. To fulfil the need for land allotment legislation was included. The law was first fully codified in the Small Holdings and Allotment Act of 1908, it was modified by the Allotments Act of 1922 and subsequent Allotments Acts up until 1950.”),

I got to thinking about the humble Brussels sprout. It seems that you either love or hate the Sprout. In some cases, even people who like cabbage can’t stand sprouts. I think this is because they’ve never eaten sprouts at their best, after the frost has been at them and the centre is pink and sweet.

I don’t have an allotment; I find the idea of having to take my tools etc. down a bit of an effort, probably because my first garden was a third of an acre and filled with all kinds of veg. All I had to do to cultivate or collect was step out of my back door. Mind you, in those days we were poor. We had 2 kids at home, I held down 2 jobs and I used to go out at weekends and push over dead trees in the hedgerows to bring home for fuel.

The village is very proud of its allotments, and unlike some other areas, it looks unlikely that they will be sold off for development, so there will be lots of local families growing and eating fresh veg. If this sort of thing interests you, go to: The National Society of Allotment and Leisure Gardeners http://www.nsalg.org.uk/.

Speaking of development, I saw these along the path as I was walking Molly. I hope they’re only there to mark out the path when the Council workmen come to lay down some quarry waste. I think I need to keep an eye on them.

New year's eve, and the killing goes on

New Year’s Eve and a white hoar frost over all. I had hoped to get a decent photograph of the Kestrel that I saw hovering about 20 feet above the ground yesterday; it then swooped but did not, I think, make a kill and settled in the field to preen itself. Anyway, with the cold, it was not in evidence.

In fact, the mist and hoar frost was caused by a lack of the biting North wind of yesterday, so: no wind = no wind chill. I didn’t feel nearly as cold today.

The fields around are achingly beautiful at this time of year. There is a lonely, sparse feeling about everything. The only sound was the farmer behind in his tractor bringing bedding to the beasts. None of the local blue tits were around and the wrens kept themselves hidden. Lots of sparrows (house and hedge varieties) and the starlings, like death and taxes, are always there.

I came back to the news on the radio that Israel had refused an attempt to set up a truce to enable humanitarian aid into Gaza. This blog is not intended to be political, but I can no longer resist saying; when did murdering innocent people (or even executing without trial guilty people) become internationally acceptable? Was it us in Iraq, or Dresden, or Hiroshima, or did it happen before that? Anyway, isn’t it time we just stopped killing each other? Isn’t it time to say to governments “Just stop fighting each other and who knows what good might happen?” Can anyone who believes in God tell me why, when all good men and women pray constantly for Peace, doesn’t he/she just say “Yes”?

More on the wedding of the century (last century)...

That newspaper article continues...

“RECEPTION

After a reception at the bride’s parents’ home in Market Harborough, the couple left for a honeymoon in Paris.

The bride was educated at Market Harborough Grammar School and is now a beauty consultant for a London cosmetic house.

Mr. Roberts was educated at the Thomas a Becket Grammar School, West Bridgford, Nottingham and is now assistant display manager at Marshall and Snelgrove, Leicester.

Mr. and Mrs. Roberts will live at Brandywine Cottage, Thorpe Langton.”

It all sounds a bit grand, but the truth was that we were quite impoverished and wouldn’t have considered having the reception anywhere we had to pay, either for accommodation or catering. We never actually moved into Brandywine Cottage because, in spite of our (and our friends') efforts in decorating the place, when we returned from Paris, the wallpaper was falling off the wall with the damp and the place was cold as charity.

This is Marea with my sister in her “white broderie anglaise mid-calf length dress, gathered into a pink sash at the waist, and ankle length pantaloons, trimmed with frills. She also wore a white satin poke bonnet and carried a posy of pink flowers...” They both look frozen, but at least we had a warm and comfortable, not to mention silent, drive through the snowy Leicestershire countryside to Market Harborough.

And just to show that we didn’t actually get married in black and white –

And a final, yellowing, newspaper article...

40 years ago today...

MARRIED AT LEICESTER

Miss Marea Lynn Tailby of 14 Barrington Road, Stoneygate, elder daughter of Mr. and Mrs. A. E. Tailby, of 12 Nithsdale Avenue, Market Harborough, and Mr. James Michael John Roberts, eldest son of Mr. and Mrs. E. Roberts, of 207 Mere Road, Leicester, were married at Holy Cross Priory Church, New Walk, Leicester.

The ceremony was conducted by Father Mulvey. The bride, who was given away by her father, wore a full length white Empire line dress in pure silk choffon, with full peasant sleeves gathered into armbands at the elbow.

The armbands were made of velvet and decorated with pink and white flowers. Her hair was decorated with pink and white flowers.

She carried a bouquet of mixed white spring flowers.

The bridesmaid was Miss Julie Roberts (bridegroom's sister), who wore a white broderie anglaise mid-calf length dress, gathered into a pink sash at the waist, and ankle length pantaloons, trimmed with frills.

She also wore a white satin poke bonnet and carried a posy of pink flowers....

Forty years ago today, Marea and I were married, so today is our ruby wedding anniversary, and yes, I have bought her rubies.

Christmas 1968 was cold and bright; snow had fallen and there was a cold wind.

Getting married at Christmas wasn't easy; we had great difficulty getting flowers and a wedding car was almost impossible. I did a deal with Mann Egerton (high end car dealer on London Road, Leicester) to dress their Christmas window, which was to have the original Chitty Chitty Bang Bang in it, in return for a Rolls Royce Silver Shadow and driver to take us from Leicester to the reception at Market Harborough.

I created a huge shocking pink melinex parcel with a gigantic bow from which the car spilled out onto the sales floor. A couple of days before Christmas there was no confirmation that we would get car and driver, so I rang the Managing Director and said I would send him a bill for 20 guineas (£21) for dressing his window. This was enough of a threat, and he confirmed that we would have car and driver for the 27th December. (£21 may not seem a large amount of money, but I was earning about £10.50 a week in those days.)

We left that evening for London, dined at a 'Golden Egg' and took a coach down to Lymne and a D68 to Paris for a 4-day honeymoon. Paris was also frozen, but magical. We stayed just off Montmartre and had the time of our lives.

I'm now going off to get ready for dinner at Stapleford Hall so perhaps I will write more tomorrow.