Tag Archives: sculpture

Sunday Night Again

Yes, it’s Sunday night again and I’m looking at another week incarcerated in a windowless office with a thousand items of eBay stock and the scent of ancient sweat drifting off a pile of used foreign banknotes. Years ago I was present when a dealer opened a shoebox crammed with used notes from a distant land . The experience of lifting the lid and taking a breath was very much like being coshed with a sweaty football sock crammed with mature cheese. I have been dubious about used foreign notes ever since.

Sometimes they bring back pleasant memories of exotic foreign trips, but mostly they just remind me of that shoebox. That makes me sound like a man who made exotic foreign trips. Actually I only made a couple, and they were for business so they tended to be big on work and light on tourism.

And with thoughts of missed opportunities, I will now turn back to plans for the week.

Tomorrow I am rising at 6.30 to get to the hospital in time to get a parking space and, with luck, a short wait for a blood test. I haven’t been since before Christmas so I’m hoping I hit target as I like it when you get two or three months between tests.

For the rest of the week I have a visit from a tree surgeon, who is going to trim a tree, a visit to charity shops to drop off some books and other clutter, and a trip to the doctor to review medication. Not the most inspiring of weeks. I really ought to add the Power Point to that, because days have a terrible habit of melting away if you don’t plan properly.

I know that the most productive periods of my life have been the ones where I’ve planned them properly, but I’m lazy and tend to let things slide.

I will add “planning” to the list. It’s time to shake off the winter and get to work.

Sculpture at Scarborough

The pictures are ones I recently found on a camera card I’d mislaid. It’s a sculpture from the seafront at Scarborough, and it’s surprisingly difficult to photograph, as there are always people in the way, looking at it or the information board.

Sculpture at Scarborough

The Iron Men

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Julia took this picture by photographing the information board at the beach – I hope we will be forgiven for using it, as we are, to be fair, publicising the sculptures.

Just in case you don’t recognise the statues, they are part of Another Place by Antony Gormley.

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The summary, in case you don’t want to read the links is that the bloke who did the Angel of the North also did 100 identical cast iron statues which are now spread over the beach at Crosby, near Liverpool in an area 3,000 metres by 1,000 metres. It spreads them out quite a bit and means you can’t get groups of them in one shot. For me it dispels the impact, but, to be fair, I’m not an artist and know nothing of these things.

I do like the barnacles and other growth, which Julia caught well in the second photo, but was too lazy to walk down the beach to take my own shot.

If you decide to visit, ignore the postcode listed on one of the review sites – L23 6SX. It takes you to a free car park with no facilities and though it’s one end of the installation I’m not sure it’s the better end, unless you like a lot of walking along a treacherous beach. There are various suggestions on how to stay safe, which suggest on not walking too far out.

We saw brown signs in Cosby, ignored them in favour of the satnav then, after finding the first car park, returned to them. I think the correct postcode is L23 8SY.

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The second car park had catering vans, a lifeboat station and some excellent toilets, though they were 40p I’m of an age where toilets are a good thing to have, but 40p is eight shillings, which is a lot of money. There were also lots of starlings about, sheltering in the lee of the parked cars, as you can see from the photos. Starlings seemed to be everywhere we went on the coast from Cosby to Barrow-in-Furness.

Starlings at Cosby

Juvenile Starling

The Tyre Change

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I will catch up with the main events later, but as I promised the story of the tyre change, here it is.

As I said, I noticed one of the tyres was teetering on illegality. What I didn’t tell you (because WordPress is teeming with burglars who look out for such information, is that we were away for a few days).

If we’d been at home I would merely have left the car parked for two days and taken it 400 yards to the garage.

Antony Gormley – Another Place

However, we were 150 miles from home, which left me with the choice of changing it in the car park or driving to Lancaster to get it changed. The simplest way seemed to be to change it myself, rather than ringing round and then finding a tyre depot in a strange town.

Imagine, if you will, two elderly figures, bent, limping, rotund and arthritic, but, in their minds, perpetually nineteen. I’ve changed numerous tyres in my life and I had my trusty sidekick with me. What could possibly go wrong.

So, we unpacked the boot, lifted out the spare, the jack and the tyre iron and walked round to the front of the car.

Job one – loosen the bolts. You have to do this before jacking the car up or the wheel will merely rotate as you try to get the bolts out. This was where the trouble started – they were on so tight I couldn’t shift them. This happens when you have them put on at a garage that uses power tools and an idiot to tighten them.

Normally you can shift them by standing on the wrench and pushing hard. This didn’t work. I’m heavy enough to shift them but you need to bounce a bit and my ankles have no bounce these days.

Starlings at Cosby Beach

Fortunately a passing member of staff came to the rescue. I reckon he was about 12 stone (168 pounds in American weight, 76 kilos to the rest of the world) and even then he had to actually stand on the tyre iron with both feet and bounce to get them to move.

That wasn’t even the difficult bit.

The next two stages weren’t too bad either. I positioned the jack correctly, even though I had to lie down and wriggle a bit. The jack worked well, the car rose, the bolts unscrewed and the wheel came off.

So simple.

I bet you’re wondering what the problem was aren’t you. I mean, all I needed to do was bolt a wheel back on and wind the jack down. Yeah.

With Fords, for instance, you have four bolts sticking out of the hub at this point, stick the wheel back on and put the nuts on. Done. With Volkswagens, though, you have five bolts in your hand and the hub has five holes in it. You have to position the wheel and get the bolts through to the holes.

Pier – St Annes

It’s not easy and I’ve never thought of it as a good way of doing things.

I tried, I tried again. I cursed, I swore and I cursed again. Julia told me off for my language, grabbed the wheel to help and dropped it on my hand. It was surprisingly heavy and very effective at straightening out bent arthritic fingers. I wouldn’t want to do it gain, as it’s quite painful.

I was about to do this when it happened again. I will point no fingers. Even if I wanted to I wouldn’t be able to, on account of the pain of the forcible straightening.

Pier – Southport

Eventually we got it on, and all five bolts tightened. Then I lowered the car and tried to get up. By this time we were covered in black dust from brakes and a variety of debris from the car park.

And I was stuck.

I tried getting up using my walking stick and couldn’t. I tried using the car door handle. The door came open. I tried using help from Julia but she isn’t quite big enough to manage.

Fortunately the driver from a nearby campervan came to the rescue. He was a few years younger than us (who isn’t these days?) and well built, which was handy. With his help, I was soon back on my feet. Meanwhile someone else tightened the bolts for me. He was in his 70s, I estimate, and therefore the only participant in the action who was older than me.

The two tubby oldsters will now fade away, thankful for the help of their Good Samaritans, and ponder on the revelation that they are no longer the nineteen-year-olds they used to be.

Stone Wall – Lake District

Lessons from this – check tyres more regularly, buy a long-handled tyre iron for more leverage, put some cheap gloves in the car. And lose some weight.

The photos are some we took this week. It’s a longish post so I thought I’d break it up a bit.

Gateway – Roa Island

Harlow Carr Gardens – The Visit

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The approach to Harlow Carr was interesting as the satnav told us to take a different route to that indicated by the brown signs. It was an interesting, and narrow route. I will follow the signs next time and suspect I will have a less strenuous drive.

There is a lot of building going on in the area, and there is a large set of roadworks at the entrance to the gardens. Despite this we didn’t have to queue for long and were soon in the car park, dodging doddery pedestrians and trying to find a space.

I think I’ve already mentioned that most of the pensionable population of Yorkshire was out in the garden. Many of them were playing slow-motion Russian Roulette in the car park whilst others formed an orderly queue at Bettys.

That still left a surprising number to fill the garden paths. Fortunately, although the unkindness of the passing years has rendered me less mobile, it has made it easier for me to formate with pensioners. I was even able to hold a few up as I paused for photography.

Harlow Carr – I ran out of ideas

Harlow Carr another view

Harlow Carr Heather bed

Harlow Carr Sculpture worm

Harlow Carr View

There are some compensations to getting old.

We only saw about quarter of the gardens. There was a big bed of heathers as we walked in. It was good winter colour, one of the things I was looking for, but not something likely to be making an appearence in our garden.

There are some great vistas in the garden which, again, aren’t likely to be repeated at our house. You need distance for vistas and that isn’t something you can buy at the garden centre.

We looked at the alpine house because Julia is looking at a cactus/succulent/alpine project this year. I suspect the Mencap version will be slightly less polished than the RHS version.

Harlow Carr Alpine House

I had taken a few photos by this time, including a wicker worm and a moving sycamore sculpture.

I won’t take you through the rest of the day in such detail – just give a quick list. Spring flowers, rhubarb, dogwood, kitchen garden, scones, toilets, mosaic display, sulphur springs, foliage beds, garden centre, bookshop, afternoon tea at Bettys.

We missed the lake, the library, the arboretum, the education garden and probably some other things we don’t know about.

To be honest, my search for new winter ideas didn’t meet with much success – I already knew you could plant bulbs and shrubs and leave large areas of bare soil.

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Dogwood Fedge – Harlow Carr

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It was a very enjoyable day despite this and I’m looking forwards to the spring visit, though I might try taking a flask and sandwiches next time. That way I can save money and take up an entire bench whilst pensioners tut their way past looking for somewhere to sit.

I’m a member. I can go as many times as I like without it costing more. I’m feeling quite smug.

Memories

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Sherwood Forest – carving

Sherwood Forest – Robin Hood and Little John

Owl carving – Sherwood Forest

When I picked up my old camera last week there were nearly 1,400 photos on it. Each one is a memory, even if the memory is “…and that’s one I took in case the first photo wasn’t any good…”.

The first photos I’ve taken off are from Sherwood Forest – I presume three of the sculptures are still there despite the remodelling of the visitor centre, though I suppose the Robin and Little John statue will have gone as part of the demolition of the old one

Old Oaks of Sherwood Forest

Oak leaves of Sherwood Forest

Sherwood ForestO

The last photo of this set is an outlaw in the car park – I’m afraid that there probably won’t be any outlaws in the new car park. Well, there are no trees, for one thing. This is progress.

Robin Hood lurking in the Forest

I’m quite enjoying a stroll through the old photographs, though some are a bit painful when you think about the passing of time.

Even More Guest Photos…

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It’s late again, and we’ve just been to a barbecue to celebrate Julia’s sister’s 50th birthday. It’s amazing how things change over the years. I won’t labour the point but when I first met the family there were none of the grey-haired, balding, wrinkly brothers-in-law that were in evidence today (and I include myself in that number). Nor were the alluring siren-like and sophisticated sisters-in-law anywhere – they were mere giggly girls in those days.

So, as a quick fix – more Malta guest photos in the style of those from yesterday

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More Blood…

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Blood test again, and I went down for 8.20 this time, to avoid the queue.

It started going wrong when I was prevented from entering the car park by a man shouting at the machine in a haughty and peremptory manner (which immediately made me assume he was a doctor).

“I’m at the car park in front of Maternity and the barrier won’t lift!” he said.

They raised it for him. When I pulled up at the barrier I found that he’d neglected to take the ticket from the slot, which would have raised the barrier. It worked for me.

By the time I’d parked, he was walking into Maternity with an expensive leather bag over one shoulder. If he has such trouble extracting a ticket from a slot I can’t imagine he’s much of a gynaecologist.

As I walked across to the blood-letting department it started to rain – small, sharp, freezing droplets.

It got worse when I entered the waiting area and took a ticket. I was 11th in the queue. Not only that, but after doing ten people the service seemed to stop. even the people behind me noticed it, and they weren’t next in the queue or in a hurry to get out and have breakfast with their wife before going to work.

I had “the trainee” again. She’s making progress because, after two multiple failures she nailed it first time. They now use a piece of arm which hurts more than usual, but if it works I suppose it’s better than multiple stab wounds.

As I walked back to the car it rained. This time the drops were bigger and less icy. They were still cold though. The roof of the shelter over the ticket machine, I noticed, is just the right size to channel drips of cold water onto your head as you feed your money into the machine. For an extra £20 in materials they could probably have built a shelter that kept people dry as they paid.

It occurs to me that the NHS is missing a trick. Charles Saatchi once owned a frozen sculpture made from the blood of the artist Marc Quinn. Despite it nearly defrosting in a builder-related incident, he managed to resell it for £1.5 million.

Clearly, as the NHS has plenty of blood going spare, there’s an opening here for an enterprising artist, an Arts Council Grant and one of those marketing companies that knocks out limited editions via the colour supplement on Sundays.

You can do 150 heart valve operations for the cost of one frozen blood sculpture. Or 1,500 cataract operations

I’m not saying that it’s the solution to NHS funding problems but it might help.

Bowie, Bears and Staxtonbury

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There’s been an outbreak of bears in Yorkshire.

We were coming back from a day out on the coast last year when we first spotted them. It was twilight at the time and too dark for photos. This year we were better prepared and managed to take some photographs. There is another group about 200 yards away, but that would involve parking by the side of a fast bit of road, obstructing traffic and putting my life at risk for a picture of a teddy bear made from straw bales.

They are advertising Straxtonbury. Follow the link for more information and a video including pictures of last year’s bears.

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They are at Staxton, in case you want a look. Or pretty close to Staxton, I’m a bit hazy on the geography.

More Pictures from Dearne Valley

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I couldn’t get all the pictures into one post, so here are some more from our day at Dearne Valley.

The first selection is gulls. Black Headed, Lesser Black Backed and Common Gulls. I don’t know who named them but they have brown heads, grey backs and aren’t that common.

Black Headed Gulls

Lesser Black Backed Gull

Common Gull

The next selection shows Snipe and Gadwall. There are 5 Snipe in the picture with Lapwings but I didn’t see them as I took the picture. That’s good camouflage.

Gadwall

Snipe

Lapwing and Snipe

Finally, the play area and sculpture. I suspect it is left over from when the council ran it. If you have children to entertain I imagine this would be a good place to bring them. On a Wednesday in term time there were no children, just grumpy old men and married couples. Or, in our case, a grumpy old man who was part of a married couple.

Dragonfly

Heron sculpture

Frog

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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 .

Coco Pops by the side of the pond. Really?

Don’t feed the Pigeons!

If you are too stupid to read no sign is going to make a difference

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.

Sculptures at Arnot Hill

Duck – Arnot Hill Park

Heron and Duck – Arnold

Hedgehog – Arnold

Fox – Arnot Hill

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Life after the Care Farm

Tag Archives: sculpture

Sunday Night Again

The Iron Men

The Tyre Change

Harlow Carr Gardens – The Visit

Memories

Even More Guest Photos…

More Blood…

Bowie, Bears and Staxtonbury

More Pictures from Dearne Valley

Raindrops and Carvings