Last week – half term in London – I was on Granny Duty. And my daughter and granddaughter were over from Spain too. So one day, we went to Mudchute Farm. This is a community-based city farm that’s home to sheep and cows and ducks and geese and hens and all the usual suspects. But towards the end of the day, squirrels came centre-stage. They’re not part of the farm. But they’ve learnt that it’s a great place to hang out. All that free food. And some of it from visitors. William at one point dropped his apple core – accidentally of course: we’re not litter-louts. Before he could do anything about it, a cheeky squirrel had scuttled out and grabbed it: and retreated to a goat pen so she could eat it in peace.
This week, for the Lens-Artist Challenge, Johnbo bids us to seek out signs. My header photo was taken several years ago, but seems even more prescient now that it was then.
Let’s stay with the somewhat political, some more serious than others. Do click on each image to see it full size and read the explanatory caption.
Warning notices, some more serious than others. There’s even one from the Lockdown era. Remember that?
And a miscellany to finish off with: a tribute on our local buses after the death of Queen Elizabeth II; a light-hearted invitation to a coffee shop in Liverpool and a less than inviting hotel name in Mahabalipuram, Tamil Nadu, India.
It’s mid October. Autumn should be well-advanced. But it isn’t. It’s hardly started. To give us a taste of what we should be enjoying just now, I’ve dipped into the archives, and have planned a walk round Fountains Abbey and Studley Royal, so you can enjoy with me the autumn colours of leaves still clinging on to the trees, leaves that have fallen, equally tawny fungi, and stags poised to battle it out to be King of a Harem, and father of the next generation of red deer .
Huby’s Tower glimpsed through the treesThe Water Gardens from Rustic Bridge.Surprise ViewGazing back towards the Abbey from Surprise ViewThe High Ride, Studley RoyalFungi in Studley RoyalA flooded area in Studley RoyalRed deer.
Any Brit could finish this off for you, no trouble. But just in case you aren’t a Brit, and can’t, here are the words of this music hall song, now over a hundred years old.
And last Monday, the seaside was where we went, for a suitably British day out. To Saltburn-by-the-Sea in fact: ex-smuggling centre, and a popular Victorian resort which still has a charmingly olde-worlde air.
There’s the sea itself. People-and-dog-watching…
… beach huts …
… the all-important pier …
… which it’s obligatory to walk to the end of, to look at the sea again …
… the equally obligatory fish-and-chip lunch, preferably overlooking the sea …
… the boats in the small harbour …
… and the header mops up the final necessary sights: two surf-board enthusiasts, and even one seagull.
Spotted the other day in Swinton Park near Masham, through the spectral swirling leaves of an autumn afternoon, three woodland wraiths. Well, that’s what I thought they were, anyway.
Once upon a time, the River Thames flowed gently through the city, slow and wide, or wider, according to the weather. At various points in the 19th century and particularly when Joseph Bazalgette was master-minding the critical job of master-minding a sewer network , the Thames was edged with a series of embankments. This had the effect of making the river narrower, deeper, and therefore faster flowing.
By the middle of the twentieth century, this was becoming a problem. A few times a year, high tides were presenting a danger of flooding to London. Something had to be done. That ‘something’ turned into the Thames Barrier at Woolwich.
In 1972, the Thames Barrier Act and Flood Protection Act was passed by The Greater London Council, and in 1972, work commenced.
'The gates, each of which are 19 metres high and weigh 3300 tonnes, divide the river into six navigable spans, four of 61metres (200 feet), and two of approximately 30 metres (100 feet). The barrier was designed to be solid, durable (serving London until at least 2030), failure proof and bomb proof. It has so far survived 12 collisions with ships without sustaining any serious damage.'
www.cityoflondon.gov.uk
The barrier was originally designed to protect London from a very large flood (1 in 100 years) up to 2030. By October 2021, it had been closed 200 times – it’s 208 times now. And the barrier has been modernised and improved to take it beyond its original shelf-life.
Much of the science behind it is beyond me. But it’s a beautiful thing in its own right, and I can appreciate that: even if I don’t understand the engineering. This short video may help.
Without the Barrier, all this is at risk.
For Debbie’s Six Word Saturday. And if you haven’t visited this post and voted … please do.
Blogging pal Peter of Peter’s Pondering told me that after he’d read my last post, he’d enjoyed ten minutes with YouTube watching 400 Roses performing . I’ve missed a trick. I should have shown you myself. Here you are:
When I showed you all the fun to be had at Masham Sheep Fair in Monday’s post, I included a couple of shots of dancers. Dancers who really didn’t give of their best in black and white. These are the 400 Roses.
They’re a group of women dancers from West Yorkshire. They’re folk dancers. But it’s not as simple as that. They combine Morris dancing with – yes – belly dancing, with a nod perhaps to steampunk. Their gloriously extravagant red, black and white costumes feature – among other things – red and white roses to celebrate their Yorkshire and Lancashire origins . Those of you who are not from these parts may not know that the red rose is the symbol for Lancashire, the white rose, that of Yorkshire. The Red Roses are accompanied by their energetically engaging band t’Thorns. Come and have a look.
And a close-up of the skirts of their dresses, every one different.
I couldn’t resist two black and white portraits though: one of a dancer, one of a bandsman.
And even one of the cheerful bags that accompanied them to where they were dancing.
Thank you, 400 Roses. We’ll come and watch you now whenever we can. I think you enjoyed yourselves as much as we your audience did.
From Pyrenees to Pennines 
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