Monthly Archives: February 2017

Raindrops and Carvings

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Owing to the disorganised nature of my blogging I’m now going to write about Thursday, even though it’s Sunday night. In fact it will be Monday morning by the time I press the button.

It was raining on Thursday  and Julia was busy all day with various tasks. That’s what happens when you are a pillar of society, people keep asking you to do things.  Nobody needed me for anything, so, with no supervision from my better half, I had a whole day in which to loaf.

First call was to some friends with a jewellers shop.  After dragging Julia round Lincolnshire on Valentine’s Day I thought a visit to a specialist in vintage jewellery who gives discounts for cash could be a good idea, particularly as I’d bought the flowers a week early because they were cheaper.

(I may have been put on this earth to be Julia’s soulmate, but I’m not convinced that I was put here to line the pockets of florists at peak times for sales of red roses.)

Red Crested Pochard – Arnot Hill
Pochard – Arnot Hill
Greylag Goose – Arnold

After that it was off to do some shopping and then, despite the rain, I felt the need for ducks. As you can see from the photographs, the waterproof plumage of waterfowl works well in the rain.

Despite many notices about not feeding the pigeons people keep doing it. They also keep throwing handfuls of food into the pond and around its margins. I don’t mind the pigeons (though I do wish people would read the notices) but I do mind the idea of attracting rats and fouling the water with decayed foodstuffs. At least nobody feeds bread, though I’m not sure what genius decided to dump a box of breakfast cereal .

If you are too stupid to read no sign is going to make a difference
Don’t feed the Pigeons!
Coco Pops by the side of the pond. Really?

Last time I visited they had cut down a tree on the island. Today I was amazed to see that it had been carved into a variety of figures, including a duck, a fox, a hedgehog and a heron. They are all good, though the Heron is particularly appropriate as it stands just yards from the place where we often see the real Heron.

It’s also appropriate as Arnold is derived from the old name Ernehale (Place of the Heron). Sometimes this is rendered as Place of the Eagle. but I’ve only ever seen Erne used as an archaic term for Heron.

If you follow the link you will also see a reference to the Hawksley and Davison mill that used the duck pond as its millpond.

Fox – Arnot Hill
Heron and Duck – Arnold
Hedgehog – Arnold
Duck – Arnot Hill Park
Sculptures at Arnot Hill

An Unusual Bridge and an Unusual Word

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I’m afraid this is another post about Crowland, but I hope you will bear with me. It will be worth it if you are a pontist, or possibly a gephyrophile.

Pontist is used to denote someone who is very interested in bridges. Gephyrophile, though translated from the Greek, and therefore a very respectable scientific word, is not, in my opinion, as easy on the tongue. It is also a term used to describe people who have a compulsion to cross bridges. This is not quite the same as merely liking them.  The other thing against it as a word is that it sounds rather to close to a term you might use for someone who likes people called Geoffrey.

Modern Brass Plaque on Trinity Bridge
Trinity Bridge, Crowland, Lincolnshire

My preference would be for pontophile, which is easier to say and spell, and is a word people are likely to use. In fact at least one other person has suggested it on the net. I know it’s a mix of  Latin and Greek, but that has not stopped us using the word television, and if it does irritate a few classical purists so much the better. After enduring (or resisting) both Latin and Greek at school I see this as a continuation of my youthful rebellion.

As a result of a mistyped search I can also tell you that a ponyphile is not someone you would like to have in the family and that pantophiles like everything.

Anyway, if you follow this link you will see, about an inch to the left of Bridge Hardware, a three-pointed shape. This, as the shop name implies, is a bridge. Due to it’s three points it is known as Trinity Bridge. It was built to cross two streams that joined at this point. The earliest mention of it is in 716, and it was rebuilt in stone between 1360 and 1390. The figure on the bridge is believed to be either Christ with a globe or King Ethelbald with an orb (possibly removed from the West Front of the Abbey) or sometimes, more frivolously, as Cromwell with a bun.

Trinity Bridge – Crowland, Lincolnshire
Statue on Trinity Bridge
The wear of centuries

 

 

 

Banty Feather Poke

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I always struggle with titles, so this one, chalked on the board in the RSPB shop at Carsington Water, seemed like a gift.

The story is that an 85-year-old customer asked them if they’d ever heard of one. His grandfather had learned the term as a boy and had passed it on to him when he was doing a school project. They worked out that the grandfather was born in the 1870s.

For comparison, my Dad is 88 and his grandfathers were born in 1871 and 1874 so we are about in the right area.

A banty feather poke is a Long-tailed Tit’s nest, and was in use in the Matlock area in the 1870s – 80s. The customer told them this because he didn’t want the name to die out.

Well, I’m doing my bit to keep it going.

They’d done some internet research and found that a poke is a pocket. Sounds fair enough, though I also think of it as a drawstring bag or purse. Either are quite good at describing this sort of nest, as you can see if you follow the link.

The feather is obvious, there are between 1,500 and 2,000 feathers in each nest. Makes you wonder why they bother, but they’ve being doing it for a long time and I suppose it makes evolutionary sense somewhere along the line.

Banty, could be something to do with bantams, but if you check up on a Derbyshire dialect website banty-legged means bow-legged. Not that it helps. I’ll have to check the legs next time I see one.

Finally, if you check this website for old names for Long-tailed Tits, you will find an extensive list including bumbarrel (the only one I’ve heard before) and Feather Poke.

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Lomg Tailed Tit at Rufford Abbey

 

 

Good Day at Blacktoft Sands

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I was tempted by the alliteration of “Bad Day at Blacktoft Sands” as I like alliteration and it sounds like a black and white cowboy film, which I also like. However, we had a good day, so that plan was doomed from the start.

It shows how things have changed over the years if I say that we saw a Marsh Harrier and a Little Egret, but didn’t see anything special. Marsh Harriers were down to a single breeding pair in 1971 but there are up to 380 pairs now and seem quite common if you go to the right place. Little Egrets have had a population explosion since the 1980s – from being a rarity we now have a population of around 700 breeding pairs and 4,500 overwintering. Give them a few more years and we’ll be complaining about them crowding other birds out.

The Marsh Harrier expansion is down to preserving habitat, changing habits and stopping people persecuting them, though they still have problems. The Little Egret, I’m afraid to say, might be due to global warming though a general expansion of range and protection of habitat may be helping.

The first notable birds we say were Tree Sparrows. They have declined by 96% since 1970, and we only seem to see them on the bird feeders at Nature Reserves!

Pochard
Female Marsh Harrier – Blacktoft Sands
Little Grebe (Dabchick)
Tree Sparrows at Blacktoft Sands
Widgeon

We did see a group of Pochard, which was nice because numbers have been decreasing, plus a couple of Little Grebes, Widgeon, Teal, Greylag Geese and a few other things. I won’t list them all because lists aren’t that interesting, except to the people making the list.

As usual, the distance was too far for the camera, but fortunately some of the birds helped out by coming close. Buildings, being bigger and slower than birds, were more obliging, so I took a few shots of the buildings.

It’s a very watery place. The Ouse runs to the north of the reserve (connecting Goole docks to the sea). The Trent runs down the east side and where the two rivers meet they form the Humber, which is an estuary rather than a river. I didn’t know that until last week, I always thought it was a short river.

The white building is part of Associated British Ports and overlooks a wharf whilst the lighthouse at Whitgift is still in service and is a waymark for Goole docks.

Associated British Port building
Whitgift Lighthouse

 

To end the day we went to the Dolphin at Sutton on Sea for haddock and chips. I had a syrup sponge and custard. Julia had a banana fritter. Well, it was Valentine’s Day, and I thought she deserved a treat.

The Faces of Crowland Abbey

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While we were in the Fens on Wednesday, as you already know from previous posts, I took a few pictures of Crowland Abbey on the way past. A photogenic ruin, stone faces and a graveyard – hard to resist.

The Abbey was founded in memory of St Guthlac early in the 8th century but destroyed by Vikings in 866, an earthquake (1118) and three fires (1091, 1143 and 1170). It wasn’t all bad though, the isolated Fen location kept it safe during the civil disorder of the Middle Ages and allowed it to accumulate considerable wealth.

St Guthlac is depicted in this photograph – he’s holding the whip he used to drive the demons off the island (which is what Crowland was before the drainage of the Fens).  That’s not a blemish in the archway by the way, it’s a Jackdaw flying by.

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St Guthlac -right side, second tier, statue on left

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This is a cropped and enhanced piece from the picture above it, showing a close-up of St Guthlac, now protected from birds by netting.

The West Front, with its fine selection of statues was completed between the 12th and 14th centuries. Given time I could probably identify most if not all of them. I could also date statues and heads from the fashions they are wearing. That, however, is a project for the future. I need to know more about church architecture before I start on fashion of the Middle Ages.

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Triviata

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Yes, was surprised it was a real word too. I was looking for a title that denoted an accumulation of trivia and thought this was about right so checked it up to make sure if it was already taken, and yes it was. Shakespeare introduced 1,700 new words into English, but these days it’s not quite so easy.

There is also a Trivipedia, but no trivicumulation. I’m going to think about that…

I think it can be defined, in my sense, to denote a jumble of trivial news of the sort that makes up conversations between spouses or posts on blogs about normal life. Well, you may discuss world politics or philosophy with your spouse, but we tend to discuss children, what we did during the day, and housework. Or, more precisely, why I have done no housework.

So, his morning, after a day on the road yesterday, I drifted into consciousness just before 7.00 am, looked at the day outside and went back to bed for a while. Feeling energised I then sorted out books for charity, selected clothes for the Salvation Army (they seem to have been shrinking lately) and took a faulty kettle back to TESCO. It hadn’t been expensive but even cheap kettles are supposed to keep the water on the inside.

It’s surprising how long it takes to return a faulty kettle to TESCO. First you have to find someone to accept it, and at our branch that means going and standing at a shabby, anonymous counter at the back of the shop as everyone ignores you. Then, after finally intercepting a passing manager, you have to wait and see if they can find a replacement on the shelves or in the warehouse. They couldn’t. So I accepted a refund on my debit card.

Lunch was soup (Pea and Mint from TESCO) with fresh bread. Yes, I know I should make my own but I wanted something quick.

Blogging next – reading posts and adding bits to some posts I’m mulling over. I still have another post on Crowland Abbey to polish  (you have to ration these things out ) and a few others to develop.

Finally, gardening. I’ve been putting it off until the warmer weather came, and the warmer weather has come. As I have plenty of time this year, it really is time to get on top of the job. It’s also time to add some permaculture design and  wildlife to the garden.

I’m alternating TV, computer and cookery now. Julia is out at a meeting and when she returns she will be expecting meatballs. I’m still looking for a meatball recipe so “relaxed” and “well prepared” are words that don’t currently apply to me.

It will be different tomorrow – the Sweet Potato and Chickpea Curry is already done.

Meanwhile, I’d better focus and stop browsing. I’ve just been reading this. It’s cookery, but not as we know it.

Readers of a nervous disposition may be better not clicking the link.

 

 

The Narrow Cells

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Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree’s shade,
         Where heaves the turf in many a mould’ring heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
         The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
Elegy in a Country Churchyard – Thomas Gray

I was at Crowland Abbey earlier last week (as you may have noticed) and took a few shots of gravestones with interesting names. We didn’t have a lot of time so I didn’t do a lot of searching, just took a few pictures of stones with names I thought I could look up in the census results.

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The first one was a stone that was laid flat at the end of the south aisle (the one with no roof) to form a pavement. It seems a poor way to treat a memorial but I suppose if you believe that only the skull and thighbones are needed for resurrection the grave marker is irrelevant.

It looks like it’s the stone of Sarah, wife of William Hewson. William is listed in the 1861 Census for Crowland, a widowed 71 year old farmer and cattle dealer. If only the moss had grown more. Unfortunately I can’t narrow it down more than that, or find any mention of Sarah.

A few yards further on, just outside the walls, is a stone to  William Blood and his wife Mary Ann. William was a farmer, who ended up with 143 acres. and eventually left property valued at “under £100” in 1877. Mary went to live with her daughter and Robert, the eldest son, became a general dealer, married two women called Mary (one after the other) and died in 1914.

Conspiracy theorists might deplore the state collecting all this information, but it does make family history easier (unless people marry identically named wives).

A few yards away is a stone to Drusilla, wife of Augustus Blood, who died in 1876. She had a difficult, and short, life. In the 1841 census she is months old and the daughter of an Ironmonger but in 1851 she is living with her grandmother and mother (both widows). By 1861 she is living with an an aunt and uncle and listed as a dressmaker. Finally, in the 1871 census she has a daughter and is married to Augustus Blood, an unemployed butcher.

By 1881 Augustu was working as a butcher in Oundle, Northamptonshire. He had 4 daughters between the ages of 5 and 10 (no wonder poor Drusilla died young). His brother Henry was working with him (though he also has a housekeeper). In 1891 he is living in Whittlesey, Cambs, with a new wife Ann, and three young children between 4 and 8, all born in Oundle. Ann died in 1901 and left effects worth £42 8s 9d to Eleanor Frost, spinster.

By 1911 (the last census to be released) Augustus was living near  Salford, Lancashire and working as a Chapel Keeper. At the age of 68 he was living with his 44 year old wife (having remarried in 1904), two stepchildren and his brother Henry, who was a self-employed confectionary hawker. He died in 1915 and left £32  4s 9d.

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It’s amazing what stories you can find in a churchyard.

Wrecks of Ornamented Stones

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We gaze on wrecks of ornamented stones

John Clare, Crowland Abbey

I’ve run out of ideas for titles, so I’m drawing on the poetry of local “peasant poet” John Clare.

This is  Crowland Abbey. It’s now the parish church of the town of Crowland in south Lincolnshire but it used to be an important religious community with large property interests. This came at a price, including a Viking raid, riots and law suits (often featuring the Abbots of Spalding and Peterborough) before Henry VIII finally dissolved it in 1539. This wasn’t something unique to Henry, as other countries had also seized monastic assets, including Sweden, Denmark and Switzerland.

Looking towards the football fields
Detail from gravestone – Crowland
THe sun goes down…
Ruined aisle – Crowland
Weather cock with Jackdaws

Having already been used as the parish church for years, parts of the building were set aside as a church, whilst the rest was demolished and reused. Sorry I can’t be more precise, but as I can’t tell a nave from a narthex I’m obviously going to have to brush up on church architecture.

The quatrefoil shows scenes from the life of St Guthlac. He was a soldier and a member of the Mercian nobility who retired to the monastery of Repton at the age of 24. Two years later, in 699, he gave up this life to live at Crowland as a hermit.  He wore skins and lived on bread and water, passed his time praying and battling demons and, eventually, died in 714.

Eventually a cult of St Guthlac developed and the abbey was built. A cynic would say that the two things were linked, as saints were big business in those days. If they could attract more people, they could attract more donations.

THe quatrefoij
Story of St Guthlac
A modern version
St Guthlac -left side, second tier, statue on left

What is now the church was originally the north aisle. The other bits have gradually decayed, probably having suffered from Parliamentary bombardment in the siege of 1643. Oliver Cromwell is often blamed, but he wasn’t actually in command that day and as a I do feel that he gets blamed for more destruction than he actually accomplished. As it was 1720 before the nave roof actually fell in, it’s likely that time did as much damage as cannon balls. Let’s face it, the Victorians did more damage to churches than Cromwell ever did.

Despite all this, it’s still an imposing building, and much more dramatic with the ruins than it would be if it was just a neat and tidy church.

 

 

 

Simple Pleasures

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Sitting here on a gloomy grey day I idly wondered if winter  in England could get any worse. At that point an advert for the RSPCA came on TV. Pictures of neglected dogs don’t half bring the mood down.

At least it’s stopped raining, and every day that passes is a day nearer spring. I like spring.

However, it isn’t spring so I’ll have to make the most of what I have.

The best bit of the day, best bit of the week in fact, was being able to go back to bed after dropping Julia off at work. Any of you who are around a foot taller than your partner will know what I mean. Normally you find the duvet wrestled away from you by a small, compact and determined person who insists on sleeping half way down the bed. When you are on your own you can cover your shoulders and tuck the duvet right up to your ears.

It’s a simple pleasure. but the best ones often are, aren’t they?

Same goes for he Welsh Rabbit I made when we got home. It’s only cheese, milk and mustard on toast but there’s nothing better once you get the curtains closed and the fire on. We even had The Persuaders on TV to add to the atmosphere of cheesiness.

It’s one of the 50 new recipes for 2017. I know it doesn’t seem much of a recipe, but after years of making simple cheese on toast I thought I ought to make the effort to do something a bit better. Somehow it seems a lot nicer than ordinary cheese on toast.

I’m trying a new Cottage Pie recipe tonight, inspired by Jackie’s Post House Pie on Derrick J Knight’s blog. I happened to have leftover veg from the hot beef stew and pork with oven-baked vegetables I’d cooked this week, so it seemed too good to miss.

Winter and comfort food could have been made for each other.

We just ate the pie, with peas and kalettes. I’m definitely getting my five a day. With the leftover veg, it’s a very tasty pie, though the presence of chillies does introduce an element of chance into the eating process.

No pictures. When there’s a choice between eating and photography…