New Year ... 2010 .. Wow I'm that old!

I wish you all a safe and prosperous New Year!


Not that some poor souls will get the chance because of other folk's greed and stupid political, ethnic, nationalistic or religious ideas. It puzzles me why anyone prefers death, starvation, sickness and turmoil over quiet sufficiency. Still thats Folks Freddy Boy ...

Wow! What a lovely present!

I'm double gob-smacked with delight! What a splendid Chrissy gift from my partner-in-crime. Fanttastically great!

Happy Birthday JC! Well sort of ...

Happy holiday to you all! Here, in the back of colonial beyond, we will be having a peaceful and quiet time free of all the usual trappings we associate with Chrisymas. No children, party balloons, turkey, fruit pudding with brandy sauce, silly paper hats or excess booze. "Oh, how Humbug" I here you cry. No my dears, it's chrisymas every day as far as we're concerned. Just think, not a day goes by that we haven't got plates full of good food, water in abundance, so much so that we can have flushing loos, plus a roof, bed and neighbours that don't tote guns. The roads aren't lined with beggars and we can go into town without fear of being robbed or hijacked. Who, for Christ's sake, needs Christmas when we have so much?

It's The Tapes I Tell You ...

It is all very well wander about pointing a video camera hither and yon but the end result is crossed-eyes and a suppressed urge to scream! Eight out of seventeen HDV tapes have been edited, tweaked and rendered and I am now virtually senseless and totally disenchanted with the whole experience. That's what you get Freddy boy if you don't stay at home locked in a cultural cupboard!

Back to the editor ...

Scorching Sun to Wet N Cold ...

Yesterday was so hot it'd sear a side of beef but today it's cold and damp. That's weather for you. All this talk of Global Warming and, oo er, climate change makes me think that we've lost sight of reality. I can assure any of you that climate IS unstable and after 65 year of experience, north and south hemisphere, I'll bet my last brass farthing that it's going to change and change again. Oh dear what a naught man I am! A non-believer of The Gospel according to St Scientist. So, today I'll put on a jumper and tomorrow I may be under a Banyan in me nothins trying to put up with a furnace atmosphere.

Woof Woof - Its the Boys again ...

A few pics of my favorite football team.

And their coach, Mr Flint

These are the star players of Cottage United, that formidable team of  gatherers that not stray ball is safe!

I just love 'em!

I'm Turning Japanese. I Really Think So ...

Here were are at the Oak, Asakusa (Tokyo). Two old farts gadding about ...

Ooo, Er Ain't The Sunshine Great ...

After a mad, dashing-about on Monday, my car is tested, taxed and waxed. I must have walk miles to and from offices and garage but it was all done in glorious sunshine.

Most of the "house" has been unpacked; what a load of rubbish we hold dear to our bosoms; do we really want the nick-knack from long gone Uncle Fed? Not that I ever had an Uncle Fred. Questions upon questions and all about "things" we didn't even know we had let-alone that we looked at regularly. What silly sentimental duffers we all are ...

Now it's down to video editing. I can't remember the name of some of the places; the places I remember but the names? I suppose it's a case of adopting  a "roses and names" philosophy ...

So the music plays and we dance on. Why? It's a mystery to me!

Horsetrailyer - Kulture Free Zone At Last

Well possums, here we are in Horsetrailyer again. Sun a-shining and all the convicts are safe in their cells. What a difference. One minute we were in London, the next it was Tokyo and then Sydney. I dropped by Travelscene to check on return fares just to keep a bit of perspective.

So, now my car is unregistered and, because of the rules I have to return the number plates and go though all the hoops again - same car but thats colonials Freddy Boy.

We have been blown away by the reception our convict friends have given us - that really makes us feel very privilege. Lots to unpack and re-do which is good for old farts like us; you can get too bogged down with "things" being just-so and unable to cope with change. "Oh, er, its' seven minutes past eleven! I have to have my tea; one and a half sugars and a splash of milk; Earl Grey mind; with two digestives - the ones in the white jar Uncle Bert gave me for my 21st ..." Time for walkies ....

Now its time for a little rest while I process all the video footage and book another trip.

Chrysanthemum Me!

A little ride on the Yamanote people moving iron horse brought us to Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden. This is, more or less, in the centre of Tokyo and is one of the largest gardens. It was the first day of the chrysanthemum show. I never saw such huge displays of huge flowers. Some sort of sculptured intomulti-bloom thingies; one plant and hundreds of flowers in a sort of wire corset. One display was of hundreds of perfect huge individual blooms. Stunning as you would expect just because its Japan.

The weather seems far from what we expect of autumn - sunny and 24 deg C.

About 5 hours of walking and God knows how many steps leaves us completely knackered!

Tokyo means a 7pm Bedtime!

Twelve hours of flying makes my arms somewhat tired which means I fell asleep at 7 pm!

JAL once again proved that its the worlds best airline and systems were all functioning well from London hotel to Tokyo hotel so hurrah for the little people who keep the whole going - still puzzles me that the self appointed "execs" think its them what make things go. Don't get me onto my soap box about the workers versus the suits else you'll think I'm a socialist ...

A quick wander around Asakusa, a vist to Mr Doughnut and the super market and that's us totally stuffed for the day - hence the 7pm beddy-byes.

Nighty-night campers ....

Halloween ... Shefield Style

We walked to town yesterday and were surprised to see a full-blown fair in the centre. Rides and stalls of all descriptions, food and masses of people. Families, groups of friends and loads of uni students most of which were dressed up for Halloween. It was good to see the people take over the city centre and having a good time. It's call "Fright Night" and touted as Sheffield's Halloween Party. We reckon Sheffield council are doing the right thing to let this sort of event happen; it lifts peoples spirits and give us all a break from the doom-and-gloom that seems to dominate life these days. Best of all, it seems to be a real family affair.

Strike, Strike , Strike ....

What isn't working today? Buses, Post, and fire services (the folks who put fire out, duh ..) Well it is coming up to Christmas. It's all cleaning and packing ready for Transportation. Not that I'm too happy about that but it's inevitable at this point in time. Ho hum ...

Sheffield has been a good place to hang my hat; convenient for transport and all other aspects of day-to-day doings. I wouldn't want to settle here for good; too big, hectic and noisy. Yes, we old fogies like a bit of peace and quiet plus absence of over iPoded kiddies. Poor souls don't seem to exist outside the virtual techno-world. What? Actually speak to other denizens of the forest? You have to be joking! That would require social skills which are just not cool ...

What's next ...

Misty, Moisty, Morning Peaks

The 272 took us to Fox House where we started a 10 km waddle over the peaks. It was cool and very atmospheric; just the sort of thing you'd expect in a scene from Wuthering Heights. Disappointingly there was no Heathcliff to greet us at the National Trust cafe at the Longshaw Estate.

A liberal application of tea and excellent cakes recharged our energy for further waddling. Onward and upward!

The study 272 took us home after a great afternoon out. A notice in the bus informed us that there would be no drivers' strike this week!

But, Is It Art?

One of the pieces in the Irish show was many sheets (A4) with internet site translations of an original piece of prose in English through several languages and back into English. Like This:

These are the instructions to change the battery in your mobile telephone. Read them carefully before you start.

Queste sono le istruzioni per cambiare la batteria in vostro telefono mobile. Colto loro prima di voi inizi con attenzione.

Celles-ci sont les instructions pour changer la batterie dans vos téléphone mobile. Cueilli les avant vous débuts avec attention.

Ezek az utasítások változtatni az akkumulátor, meg mobiltelefonja. Előtt összegyűjtött ön csak a figyelmet.

Diese Anweisungen änderten die Batterie Ihr bewegliches Telefon. Gesammelt vor Ihrem nur zur Aufmerksamkeit.

Тези инструкции промяна на батерията вашия мобилен телефон. Събират преди тяхното само на вниманието.

Cambio de estas instrucciones de la batería su teléfono móvil. Recogido antes de su solamente tention.

Promena ovih uputstava baterija svoje pokretne telefon. okupili su se pre nego što mu samo pažnju.

د دغو احکامو د موبايل ټليفون د تليفون له لارې لېږد وړ دي. و غونډوي هغه په وړاندې كېږي يوازې د توجه کيږي.

Den mobiltelefon, løst. Samlet er mot de måste uppmärksammas.

The cell phone, has been solved. Total is against the Attention.

I ask this: Do the several sheets of A4 pinned to a wall constitute a piece of "Art"?

Ah, That Was Great For Me ...

Two excellent weeks walking in Venice; plus the odd boat trip just to save the legs. Excellent! I am never disappointed by the churches and buildings in this unique city. Even the mass of tourists is made up for by the absence of cars. So many cruise ships; there can be six a day each with 3000 plus lemmings packed into them. BUT! Ignore all that and it's a great place.

The Biennale was, as expected, a load of old and new rubbish. Best was the Italian show. The Iranian show was one of the best. The Australian was not that interesting and the Brit show was just crap. We had great time visiting all but three of the shows through out the city; a nice moan and loads of coffee! What was noticeable was the lack of placards explaining the meaning of works in totally undecipherable language - a great improvement. Mind you, reading the handouts was still like wading through verbal treacle.

The trip back to Sheffield couldn't have gone any better; all connections worked perfectly and the various staff were excellent. It took: a boat, a plane, three buses and a total of 13 hours! There we are, another great experience which wouldn't be possible without the hum-drum, daily grind of ordinary folk. So much for celebrity; what useless swankers they are ...

If you want to rent an apartment in Venice try: www.casanpietro.it we have never been disappointed.

Venice - Fantastic!

Here we are at the apartment in Venice. Snug little place out of the way. Weather is perfect and, despite the crowds in town, it is as lovely as ever - timeless but modern!

Some Biennale art seen so far is frankly crap and the write-up sheer tosh. It's what you expect but, fingers crossed, there will be something worth looking at somewhere in the exhibition.

Hey Ho ... Four Hour Wait ... That's Travel.

There is nothing more boring than sitting in a regional airport waiting for a flight. Now four hours seems to pass reasonably fast so long as you are a sleep; I'm not and the cafe not that good. Marmaduke reads her book so that's no problem. Maybe I should turn into a football fan and sink 8 prints of Wife Beater so I can make a complete fool of myself on the plane. No, that wouldn't get me a gold star. Most annoying is the repetitive taped instructions about security. Rap by the paragraph! A new art form ...

Wow! Its Cousin Harry!

A day out in the country; lovely, sunny weather. Time to visit Tatershall Castle - last time I was actually 'young'. St Michael's next door is also worth a visit; in we went, looked and left. Lunch under a willow - a English late-summer day; perfect. Until ... the earth moved for us.

Nearby RAF Conningsby is where the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight is based. So, when our quite picnic was blasted by the sound of kerro burning, we were delighted to see a Eurofighter (Typhoon) going into a a full-burn hammer head in the azure, Lincolnshire sky. A quick dash to the car park where we watched a mouth-opening display of aerobatics that would have put the average air display to shame. Brilliant times 1000!

We jumped into the car and

drove - carefully but at speed - to the airfield where kindred loonies stood, binoculars deployed and waiting for the aircraft to return. It did and taxied passed the admiring group; they waved and, you guessed it, the pilot, who was clearly visible grinning his teeth off, waved back. Hey, he's family so it's natural to be chuffed! I wondered if this was history (certainly my boyhood) repeating it's self. Afterall we were in Lincolnshire.

600 Plus Churches

Lincolnshire seems to be littered with Satanic Mills. We've been to most of those in Lincolnshire which are looked after by the Churches Conservation Trust and more as we passed them on our travels.

It makes me realise how much we, today, have forgotten all the personal effort and suffering that brought about what we now regard as our 'right'. One place has a human history that dates back to pre-Roman settlement and, there in that one building and it's surroundings, you can still see the various developments of the habitation. That is in a small village; not a 'historic' town. Just ordinary folk doing their 'thing'; nothing has really changed ... we only think it has.

More to come ...

Oh, Oh, Oh Noah, Didn't It ....

Yes it's, you guessed, raining! Again! So it'll have to be brollies, wellies and raincoats to the strains of, "Singing in the rain. What at glorious feeling, I'm soaked to the skin. ...." (Whilst tap dancing around a street light and splashing about in the garbage clogged drains.)

Oh! The pleasure of a vivid imagination ....

Probability or Just Plain Spooky

Out on the crags on Sunday; blustery but sunny. A liitle part of Stanage was all activity. A film crew had set up, with the rangers help, ready film an advertisement for some supermarket. The actor involved was Richard Hammond with a bevy of climbers and a stand-in to enable the "shots". I took the opportunity to "shoot" some of the action. Give the number of people involved it also provided ample opportunity to "chat".

Everything seem to be going well until the location manager asked me to stop filmimg and go away. Give that the location was on Public land (owened by the Park who, as you'll appreciate, are themselves owned by and managed for the "public" - a point they, the Park Authorities sometime forget. I, using my well known charm, informed the fellow that he had no authority and suggested we talk the situation over with the Park odfficers who were inattendance. I think it came as a bit of a shock when he realised that the officers were friends of mine. Things were "sorted", as the Brits say. The problem was that the Artistic Director was worried that I was a reporter from the local rag or TV. She, Margaret, and I chatted about steeling other "artist" ideas and both agreed that we had both been unnecessarily concerned. All's well that ends well ...

Richard Hammond spent most of the day waiting to "act" - very boring. He and I had an interesting chat. I liked the man; to me he seems a genuine, unassuming fellow, both interesting to talk to and in no way a posturing TV personality. I liked him even more when I he told me that he flew helos!

There I was standing looking out over the valley when I heard, "Malcolm is that relly you?" My God it was Ken Robinson! Last time I saw him was several years ago in Australia. No only that we worked for the same Circus Department and I had retired 12 years ago. He left after a quick natter and I turn to talk to the still photographer of the crew.

It was then that I heard the stunt double say he was a caver. "Do you know Tony Waltham?", I asked.

"Yes. He's a goodmate of mine. Why?"

I explained that Tony had been one of my tutors at uni and I that had been trying to contact him for old-times-sake. We exchanged emails.

I resumed looking out over the valley; Hammond was laying on a rock snoozing more or less at my feet. I noticed two people sitting on rocks next to the sleeping talent; they were munching on sandwiches oblivious to their surroundings. It was then I realised who they were. CC and Frank! They have a home in Perth and CC is a Prof. at the university in Sheffield; we met some years ago, when we exchanged emails, as you do, but, as often the case, never got together - until now. A third coincidence seems a bit spooky to me.

The filming finished and having missed the bus back to Sheffield, I walked down to my friends cottage. What a day!

Are Sheep Really Closet Goths?

Into the Tardis; which looks remarkable like a 272 bus to me, and we're transported to another astral dimension. The Hill Farm. Dogs literally straining on their leads and shepherds crook at the slope, we strode forth across the fells (that's moors to Yorkshire Folk) in search of this years 7 month old lambs. The flock of about 100 little fluffy devils was munching it's way on verdant grass oblivious of the delight in store; a visit to the ear piercing studio.

Let me explain. The lambs have be separated from their mum - arr, poor things - a few days ago. The boys having been promoted to the ranks of castrati - ouch! - some time earlier. Now it was time to separate the sexes. Not that they would start breeding like rabbits, what with them being sheep and some of them being foresaid castrati - my knees are weak even thinking about it. No, it's the difference between a career in the Chop and Roast Leg business and a lifetime of pleasure as a mummy of Randy The Ram's offspring. Incidently, the maternal career also ends in at bottom end of the Chop and Roat Leg department.

You can imagine that it's a bit tedious for a farmer to have to up-end individuals to see who's who, which is what and what's missing. The solution is simple; ear tag. Two blue for a girl and one green for a boy.

The dogs did a wonderful job gathering the flock and we drove the woolies across the field into the farm yard. Into the pens and let the ear peirceing begin!

The boys and girls ended up both separated into different fields and proudly boasting of their new decorations; "Barr, I'm a New Age Goth. Yeh, their plastic and all the rage at the slaughter house."

We enlighten beings gathered ourselves back to the cottage. Kettle on. Tea served. Toasting a job well done. "By gum, the weather were grand and them dogs got into them woolies like they were born to it. Mecks yer glad to be alive and no mistake!" What's fo dinner? Why, roast lamb with mint sauce. What else?

Lord N Lady Dusting

We were 272'd to the Peaks again and met up with our friends; our sacks filled with a swag of goodies for a lunch to be had on the terraced roof of North Lees Hall no less. Plans were twarted by the weather; rain in torrents. Donning our dust coats and aprons we set about "doing" for the in-comming guests. Dusting here, polishing there - have you every brushed a spiral staircase? No? Well it's an experience well worth the effort - not! All dusted and done we set up court in one of the kitchens for the repast. Excellent!

The hall is "famous" for Bronte associations and thus several films. To me it's a great example of "tatty kitsch"; a place for would be's to holiday and cheap at up to 1000 GB clams a week. Snot on the bankcard pseuo-history. And ... a great example of a hole-in-the-cheque-book project. You can hire one of two appartments for a holiday from the Vivat Trust.

The location is stunning and probably my favourite area in the UK; should be because I've been coming here for over 40 years.

Lunch over, we walked to our friends cottage and spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in a sunlit garden, chatting, drinking Rosie and playing with the three sheepdogs. "E, it were reet gradely and no mistake Mr Heathcliff!"

City of Lights and All That

After a week of high temperatures in Paris we are back in rainy Sheffield. We were shell, should that be travel, shocked after a seamless journey from Bastille to our flat; metro, flight (Bmibaby) and two buses. Leaving at 5.30 am and sitting down to a cupper at 1 pm; all a bit disorienting!

How was Paris? Hot, busy and expensive! Worst of all I managed to cop a heavy head cold. No not Swine Fue, although the Brits seem to be all a-panic about it and are dishing out Tammi Flu like lollies.

We had stayed at the hotel in Bastille before - the Baudelaire Bastille. This time the room was on the four floor and there is no lift; who needs to go to the gym? Clean, inexpensive and well located - just what we like. Feeding ourselves from the local Monoprix supermarket keeps the body parts moving as well as defeating the rip-off merchants in the resturants. We had the delight of the most expensive cups of tea with lemon - 12 euros - at some snotty place somewhere along our wanderings.

All very entertaining; lots seen and enjoyed.

A day trip to Riems by train was excellent. The cathedral is magnificant.

When I've collected my wits I'll tell you more ...

Wheeling in The Summer

To add a little "excitement" to the summer holidays the Sheffield Council gave permission for a Ferris Wheel to be constructed in the centre of town. Some love it. It's looks a bit odd in all honesty. No doubt it will bring some cash into the tills which is the whole point of the venture. Me? You can take it down ASAP 'cos it just looks crap!

Dogs, Dales and Drizzle

Visiting Hathersage again; always a pleasure even in the rain.


My friend is training two of his sheep dogs in the finer arts associated with their trade. I am always gob-smacked how fast they are as well as excited as a child looking at a ice cream van. This one is Lee (or maybe Lea).





One works while the other looks on with such intensity of interest and concentration.
This is the older brother, Joe.



The sheep? They just end up totally knackered!


On to Stoney Middleton village for some well dressing.










St Martin's at Stoney M is an octagonal church; sort of like an oritorio.


The sad thing about this village and most villages now, is the number of cars parked along the roads. The old cottages front onto the footpaths so that there is nowhere else for the occupants to put their vehicles. Maybe one day someone will come up with the sensible idea of having parking areas adjacent to the village; it works in Venice for example. I can dream can't I?

Finishing the day out at - had to, it's sort of compulsory - a cafe for tea and farmhouse soup with baps. This time it was at Eyam cheerfully known as "The Plague Village".

We went home on the 272 as per; another great day in the dales.

Cambridge? Not For Me ...

Taking the bus from Comberton took us on a trip down knowlege college lane to Cambridge. The town isn't to my liking; it feels over tourist infested with loads of scruffy urbanites and an excess of bikes just to add to the overall mess. You immediately get an impression of the great divide between the Ivory Towered and the just-making-ends-meet masses. Cosmopolitan sounds better ...

The college buildings are without doubt splendid and well worth a visit; like succulent pieces of fruit decorating a badly cooked and messy flan. We but scratched the surface ...

The most impressive chapel is at King's. Sort of over the top look-at-me-I'm-the-greatest architecture and decoration. The fan vaulting has to be seen to be believed.



The gardens at Clare college are delightful especially in the hot sunshine of a summer day.






St John's college seems to have the complete range of architectural types and the most modern, to me, are ugly looking like something you would expect to be a block of council flats.

Pembroke college looked the friendliest and lease self-obcessed (if buildings and gardens can be such). The several courts with various building styles and gardens gave the place a pleasant welcoming atmosphere.

St Benet's church is interesting if only because it's said to be one of the oldest such buildings in Cambridge and still in use today.


Great St Mary's church next to the market square is well looked after though plain inside.








Particularly entertaining were the straw boatered touts drumming up business for the college and punt tours. Punting on the Cam sure ain't as romantic as a gondola trip in Venice especially when some wags think it's a jolly jape to squirt passing punters with river water - they were having so much fun being so naughty just like dear Sabastian and friends ... As a counterpoint to this high brow jollity we were charmed by a few drunks in the town one of which was, so far as impressions can tell, under the delusion that he was a tatooed tarzan swinging from lamp post to lamp post while passing women looked on in awe at his masculinity and physical prowess.

High education and enlightenment levened by a dose of the benal; an interesting day as you will no doubt admit. Don't think we'll visit again ...

Battling On To Stamford - Wrong Stamford Folks

Stamford is that place where, some say, the Saxons, who were mercenaries under the command of Hengist, defeated the Picts and Scots. King Vortigen, a warlod really, gave Hengist land in Lincolnshire for this service. That was in the 5th-century; not to be confused with the Battle of Stamford Bridge which was miles away to the north and 500 years later . Not that any of that changes the fact that Stamford is a lovely town with plenty of activity; the Arts Centre is the hub.

Wandering around the town is a pleasure and the churches we visited: All Saints', St John's, St Mary's and St Martin's, were actually open - maybe Stamfordians are less prone to stealing the church goodies to fund their habit. St Michael's on the High Street had been disused since 1962 and is now transformed into shops and offices; it still looks like a splendid church with architecture that shows the modern buildings for what they are - dull!

Saxon Southwell with Norman Trimmings

We packed our bags and made our pilgrimage way to Southwell Minster which began life as a Saxon minster and is one of the better examples of the Norman massive building style. The village is worth a visit and the minster is simple magnificent. The round arches and massive columns create an aw inspiring space. Add to this a torrential downpour, thunder and dim daylight and you are transported. All at once sinister and sacred; uplifting and littleling. Quite brilliant!

Tea and cakes at one of the cafes round off a satisfying trip into deepest Nottinghamshire.

Millstone for Lunch

It was just too sunny and pleasant not to get out into the hills for few hours. So I packed a few sandwiches and we got on the 272 to Castleton. Off at Surprise View we wandered down to Lawrencefield quarry just for old time sake.

Last time I was here was over 40 years ago and we were benighted whilst doing a nice pegging crack. Can't use pegs these days it may damage the quarry cracks - don't ask about the logic it's quite beyond me. Seems that the fact that it's a quarry, an industrial site, and not a "natural" crag has been lost in the mists of middle class environmentalism.

Wandering on to Millstone edge brought back more ancient memories. Home made anoraks, climbing sacks, knitted socks, Army surplus trousers cut off at the knees, pitons made by school kids in metal work classes, hexagonal nuts drilled out and threaded onto nylon slings - now the amount of equipment is staggering. It costs a fortune to fully kit out a reasonably capable rock climber but it's essential if you want to climb the "new" routes. Still all the posh equipment doesn't mean you'll actually appreciate the environment you're in.

We sat and ate our picnic while looking out over the Hope valley. Two old farts enjoying sitting in what seems to be one of the best parts of England. Onward and upward ...

A steady stroll brought us back to Surprise View and the 272 took us back home suitably refreshed by a few of hours contentment.

Food, Music and Sunshine Plus Alabaster Wobbly Bits

What a weekend! Two festivals in two days!

The Sharrow community turned out for their ding on Saturday which proved to be an entertaining and inclusive event. Loads of this and that with lots of the other pending until night fall. We sampled the food and enjoyed looking at the people in various ethnic dress while wondering why many of the white indigenous folk either looked like beach white whales or hookers touting for trade.

We mixed and mingled while eating the odd samosa, Ital, lamb pattie and drinking espresso coffee. One old, articulate brown person said he blamed all the "troubles" on the TV, American pop culture, poor parenting by people who hadn't grown up themselves and over educated civil servants who could call meetings, write policy documents but had no idea of how to actually do things. "They think they're in some bloody TV show," he said in a Yorkshire-Pakistani English.

I talked to a group of community workers who said that most of the problems which involved young people was attributed to "boredom" and lack of "self esteem". Where have I heard that before? Er ... oh yes, it's the usual knowledge-college social studies doctrine; very PC or New Labour if you're a UKite. Maybe it's too hard for a "young person" to open the local paper and see all the opportunities to do things. Then there are literally dozens of courses - free if you are out of work. Nah, it's just not cooool and the crew will dis you. Much better to be a prat in a hoodie. Talking to a brace of cops provided a view in keeping with the old fellow I previously mentioned. Maybe we need a compromise - an iron fist in a kid glove. Let's move to Sunday ...

A typical English summer day found us walking in the Sheffield botanic gardens, music gentle on the breeze. Both kinds of music ... Country and Western cum Dylanic folk. Not too intrusive on the setting. Mums, dads, kids and dogs sitting on the grass while munching on their picnics. There was even a mobile bar - no drunks evident. We sat under a tree enjoying a Danish and espresso listening to the local talent.

Fast Train to Mercia

For a few coppers we were transported in style to Derby. From whence we caught the Stagecoach to Repton. Now you'll probably ask, "Why?"


Repton was the capital of Mercia. Mercia? Yes, Mercia and later the Viking capital of, you guessed it, Viking held territory in the midlands of what is now England.

Our interest in Repton is St Wystan's church which is of Anglo-Saxon origin. The crypt is said to be the mausoleum of King Ethelbald who was murdered in 757. We crept into the crypt and were suitably disappointed to find it stiff-less. Not that you'd expect to find a 8th century stiff moldering in the crypt. I mean, it's not Italy where it's common to come across add bits and pieces in glass cases and jars.

We were also serenaded by power tools, hammering and other sundry industrial noises - the builders were "in" restoring the church. Interestingly, the various "new" wooden screens and paneling looked mechanical and life-less probably due to the use of said power tools. Since there were no little cafes in the village we re-mounted the Stagecoach and returned to Derby.

Derby is not one of our favourite cities. However, Derby cathedral is well worth a visit. We were lucky enough to be serenaded by a young organist which made the experience delightful.

There are several other notable churches but, as per usual, they were locked due to the high likelihood of resident drunks and druggies pinching whatever isn't nail down. Sad but part of life ...


The markets are interesting but unfortunately one is part of a Westfield complex. The Victorian covered market looks like a small railway station - as you might expect since it's Victorian and the whole structure is cast iron. The fish market is, thankfully, outside!

Hay Meadows - Not Many Left To Enjoy

Another trip on the 272 to Hathersage and we dragged our aged bones up to the Hay Meadows on Ridgeway Side. What so interesting about these meadows? First the mixture of plant life is vast compared to "modern" pastures. Second the reason they still exist in this particular place, is probably mainly the result of about 30 years of dedicated stewardship. One man, who is a estate warden (not to be confused with a "Ranger") working for the Peak National Park Authority, typifies such dedication. Sad to say that there are so few such individuals who have that wide level of hands-on experience in todays world where "Authorities" are awash with middle-class theorists and Knowledge-College environmentalist and managers who are dedicated to their careers, company policies, goverment targets and politically correct performance aims. Oops, that's not very PC old chap!

Sadder is the state of the atmosphere in the Hope Valley. The day was hot and an inversion kept the crap down so that a blue haze dominated the view. Why so much crap? Mainly from car exhaust. Rave about industry and power stations all you like; it's cars that are the problem. The sheer numbers of them - they've got to go ... What's wrong with public transport and walking. Er, you have to mix with the common folk and can't show off how posh you are ... waiting for a bus is sooo common ... you don't see pop-stars, TV personalities and top sportsmen standing at the bus stop; it just isn't what the A-List do ...


The most spectacular of the flowers? The native ochids.

Well, Well and There Was More Cake ...

A beautifully sunny day and the best of English countryside - what more could a soul want?

We spent the day in Youlgrave looking at the well dressings and ... drinking Rosie and eating cake. The sun shone, the gardens were filled with flowers and rampant greenery and the birds sang. We sat in a picture-postcard setting; relaxed and well suppied with munchies. The location? Greystone Cottage. The reason they were providing such delights? Raising aid to both the Youlgrave-Bangbutt Village and The Tearfund Water Project.

What better way is there of helping the poor, than slothfully sitting in the English sunshine and gorging on Victoria sponge, chocolate cake and scones with strawberries and cream, all washed down with a pot or two of English tea? None I can think of ...

Well Filled with Cake

Well dressing was underway at Tideswell so we had to sample the tea, cakes and mouth watering icecream on sale. The well dressing themselves are really well done so that's good enough reason to visit the village.












On to Litton village. Complete with brass band the whole of the village was out to celebrate the blessing of water. We sampled the tea and cakes and then went to the pub for a pint of the most English of summer drinks - a shandy. A lovely sunny day, good company and a bust of local culture ... excellent!

Not So Exciting as Tehran

Off we go on the Iron Horse to sleepy Sleaford for a couple of days. This is a typical market own in Lincolnshire so, as you may expect, it's full of historic buildings. The Roman's had a garrison here a few generations ago which sort of give you some idea of the depth of that history.

St Deny's is the parish curch and it's a gem!

The current curate (Jeremy Cullimore) is a delight to talk to and has a personal history which shows that some clerics are a bit more than God Bothering wind bags. Anyone who has been a soldier in the Boznian War somehow has a bit more than theoretical idea about the importance spirituality in a person's life. Back to the kirk ...

It dates from round 1080 so you can guess it's well worth a visit even by the most hardened heathen.

The old Bass Maltings is a huge series of buildings; now disused. This really impressive industrial structure is the subject of heated debate - someone wants to "develope" the site. I gather Cousin Charles of the Ears has waded into the fight which could bring some interest to the debate.

No Consolation to Fred

The village of Skelton-cum-Newby (no I'm not making it up) is where the second Martian church was built. The church of Christ the Consoler was build as an extravagant memorial to Frederick Vyner who had been murdered in Greece. A really beautiful church if a bit OTT. Sadly not used for it's intended purpose these days.

We found it full of primary school kids doing projects on 'Patterns and Sets' - the principal said the church was a great teaching resource. Let's hope Fred thinks the same!


The only reason these sort of places are kept in good condition is the work of the Churches Conservation Trust. Some may think it's all a waste of money - it's called culture.

Fountains Abbey - Extraordinary

Fountains Abbey is just down the road from Ripon so off we jogged in the fine rain ... by car you'll appreciate at our time of life ...

An amazing place and the size of the site has to be walked to appreciate how big the abbey was before Uncle Henry decided to have a spak-attack. The majesty of the place must have been mind blowing and it's all gone because an over sexed fat man couldn't get a divorce ...

Next to the abbey is St Mary's church - no longer used as such. I thought: Italian, pseuo-Ravenna, pre-reformation, Roman Catholic and definitely over done by someone with too much lucre to spare - but that means it's stunning inside. The Martians - joke - who built it even have a pseuo-Elizabethan tomb. You would wouldn't you when you're one of the Landed Hipocracy - sorry that should be Aristocracy (a simple mistake anyone could make ...) Oh yes, this is one of a pair of such Martian churches, but more of that another time.

The Studley Royal Water Gardens are worth a look even in the rain. The cafe even does a nice soup d'jour, toasted teacake and Yorkshire tea - what more could you want? On the humourous side: John Aislabie inherited the Studley Royal estate in 1693. He was chucked out of parliament in 1720 for the same sort of things our current MPs are up to - nothing really changes ...

Ripping Time in Ripon

After a 90 min drive up the M something we got to Ripon just as the rain started.

First stop was the cathedral which is really beautifully restored and used frequently for God bothering.

The cathedral is a 5 min walk from the village square where we dropped into a the Wakeman's House Cafe which is your typical English tea and scones cafe. Great apple pie! The owner was really chatty so we spent too long talking about Oztrailier and pointing out that she'd probably be better off staying in The Old Country 'cos there are just as many thugs, drunks, unemployed, lousy schools etc etc as anywhere else in the "West". Funny how people fall for the beach n sun sales pitch ... that's folks Freddy boy ...

On to the camp site: Woodhouse Farm. Very nice and quiet the only sounds being birds and sheep. The Birds commence their concert at 4 in the morning!! Well that's what you go camping for - plus the enevitable rain ...

What poor souls we are - camping. Sooo down maket! It was really a great hardship to suffer noodle and black bean sauce stir fry followed by fresh coffee and cake while watching the sunset and listening to the birds. Brilliant!

Life and Art

Saw the end of year show of the Hallam Uni Contemporary Fine Art BAs. I'm sure they tried but honestly ... Some of the pieces were shown in basement studios which even the administration staff found it hard to tell us where they were and how to get to them - lifts were out so that made things even more confusing.

Talking to some of the students was a disheartening. Not one had anything good to say about the course or the lecturers. The students even went to the extreme of mounting a protest complete with placards so they must have been more than a bit annoyed with the way they were treated. One student said that during the three years there had been no attempt at teaching techniques - discovery is all! She said that she had organized life drawing classes because it was too hard for the faculty staff! Makes my blood boil to think the snotty lectures can't get over their importance to actually teach and mentor their students - no wonder students find solace in booze and drugs - wouldn't you if there isn't anyone to inspire and learn from? I suppose it's just a question of paying bums on seats and academic ego satisfaction. Moving along ...

The life class at the Millenium on Friday was good. Nothing drawn of value but the chance to practice "looking" dicipline was enough.

Chesterfield - 12 mins by Train

Catching the London train we sped to Chesterfield for a day of exploration.



The parish church of Our Lady and All Saints is world famours because of the twisted spire. The present building is the third on the site and there is evidence that a Saxon church existed before these.



The church is beautiful inside; well kept and very much alive with activity. The glass is relatively "new" but very impressive. There is only one small remnant of the pre-Reformation glass and the plaster on the walls was later removed due to poor condition - any paintings and decoration were lost in the process.



The spire's wooden structure is twisted due to drying out - it looks weired but we are told its quite safe.



Filled with amazement we went on to the markets. More amazement! They were big and you could find just about anything. The markets here have been on the site since medieval times. More to the point the stalls had so much by way of usable "found objects" I have no excuse for not making more of my strange sculptures.


The remaining Tudor buildings look good and the Royal Oak pub in the shambles has been serving booze since the 12th century. The beer? Fantastic! Flavour, head and temperature - none of your freezing cold, tasteless "lager" you'd get in places like Oztrailier. As a bonus, Roger the publican, was a great host. We'll definitely be visiting again.

Back to the station ... 12 mins and we're back in Sheffied.

Moor Sunshine and Tired Feet

Saturday brought another of those English spring-summer days. Clear milky blue sky, cooling wind and the feel of 20 degrees of perfection. The 272 took us to Fox House Inn where we set out for a few hours of walking.

Passing by Longshaw Lodge we went over the moor to White Edge Lodge and, after ignoring some very large horned beasts which sat chewing what we assumed was their last victim, we strode down to the Grouse Inn for a quick half of amber.

Suitably refreshed, we went through the woods to Grindleford Station and on to Grindleford to pick up the Derwent Valley Heritage Way footpath which took us to Hathersage.

Time for a Rosey before catching the 272 back to Sheffield.

Fantastic weather. Beautiful views. Sun bronzed and knackered. What else would a sane person need? A hot soak and large glass of red!

Steel Works No - Appartments Yes

A brillo day; all sun and gentle breeze. We packed our snap and set out to wander what was the Steel Heart of Sheffield. "The Furnace Trail" is part of the Sheffield Industrial Museums Trust project and comes with a well illustrated booklet just about right for school kids. Unfortunately the floods in 2007 have set the project back a bit so some of the historically important buildings and material were still under wraps. Still it's work a wander along the 3 km trail.

The fact that so much industry was only 10 mins walk from the very centre of town is the first thing you notice. No wonder we had all the dreadful smog problems in what was only a few years ago.

The museum was closed (Friday) but that didn't stop memories of our experiences when we worked for industrial firms in Lincoln in the early 60s (Leys Castings and Gwynnes Pumps). Cobbled streets, gaunt stone and brick walled, massive buildings. Each building having all kinds of rusting pipes pocking out of them as though they couldn't contain their industrial entrails. Blackened chimney stacks piercing todays milky blue sky. No smoke. No steam. No People. No noise. Only the odd traffic and birds. Eeyrie - dead and buried industry.

Where there were filthy back-to-back workers hovels and works you now see swish blocks of flats (appartments) which seem to be mainly occupied by uni students. Manufacturing mills and works are now either delapidated and dangerous mausoleums to industry or they have been redeveloped into modern mass housing projects. Boxs housing the decendents of the masses who worked in dreadful condition in the same place. The irony is almost palpable - not that the occupants give any thought to it.

Walking these streets in the sunshine was cause for us to reflect on our early working experiences. Thank God for progress!