Category: Blogging Challenge

The Twelve Days of Christmas

I think most English speaking people have come across the Christmas song in which the singer is offered by the beloved a whole series of different gifts over the twelve days of the festival, beginning with a single partridge in a pear tree. Here’s a list of those gifts:

On the first day of Christmas my true love sent to me .... (and so on, through to the last day of all)

A partridge in a pear tree
Two turtle doves
Three French hens
Four calling birds
Five gold rings
Six geese a-laying
Seven swans a-swimming
Eight maids a-milking
Nine ladies dancing
Ten lords a-leaping
Eleven pipers piping
Twelve drummers drumming

My Monochrome Madness Challenge to you is to illustrate this song, just choosing three or four of those gifts. I’m not going to be harsh. For instance. If you choose swans a-swimming , you really don’t have to have seven. One will do. If you’ve got ten or more French hens, who cares? Because I set the challenge, and in case I hear any more un-Christmas-y mutterings from those to whom I’ve already disclosed my theme, I’m going to illustrate all twelve to prove it can be done. And taking liberties is entirely acceptable. In fact, it’s to be encouraged. Here goes.

On the first day of Christmas my true love sent to me – a partridge in a pear tree. ‘Ooops. The partridge seems to have flown off. He’ll be back in a minute. Bound to be.’
On the second day of Christmas my true love sent to me – two turtle doves.’We’re not turtle doves, just common-or- garden pigeons. But we’re related. We’re fine. Choose me! Choose me!.’
On the third day of Christmas my true love sent to me – three French hens. ‘I don’t know whether we have French blood. Probably not. Does it matter?’
On the fourth day of Christmas my true love sent to me – four calling birds. ‘Just me at the moment. The others’ll be along soon.’
On the fifth day of Christmas my true love sent to me – five gold rings. ‘There’s just that one on top, mate. But there’s bound to be a few more if you take your time and look.’
On the sixth day of Christmas my true love sent to me – six geese a-laying. ‘They’re on their way to do just that, sir.’
On the seventh day of Christmas my true love sent to me – seven swans a-swimming. The others are over there – on the other side of the pond.
On the eighth day of Christmas my true love sent to me – eight maids a-milking. ‘Yep, that little maid was only born the other day. She’s milking her mum alright! Seven more calves due in the next few days. Just gotta be patient.’
On the ninth day of Christmas my true love sent to me – nine ladies dancing. ‘Just nine you want? Yes, we can do that for you, sir.’
On the tenth day of Christmas my true love sent to me – ten lords a-leaping. ‘We might find it difficult to supply the full set of ten sir. Most lords aren’t as young as they once were. But look at these two. Can’t fault their leaping.’
On the eleventh day of Christmas my true love sent to me – eleven pipers piping. ‘If you think your young lady can take the noise, we can certainly do you the full eleven pipers.’
On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love sent to me – twelve drummers drumming. ‘Easy. We’ve got at least eleven more on call just like this fellah. Would that suit you?’

There! Now just pick three or four of those days and show us what you can do.

Leanne and Elke have already beaten me to it ….

The Space Between….

That’s the title of Stupidity Hole‘s intriguing challenge as guest presenter of Monochrome Madness.

I started off with the obvious. The restricted spaces in narrow lanes, alleyways and thoroughfares.

Then I remembered the time when my grandson leapt into the space between the strokes of the letter O in a street installation.

Or there’s the curious tree near us where the space between the two parts of its malformed trunk form an ad hoc picture frame.

And lastly, a negative image. The tree occupies the space between an apparently endless expanse of – well- fresh air.

Thanks, Stupidity Hole for providing a provocative challenge to engage the mind on an excessively windy winter morning.

Tick-Tock

This week, it’s my turn to host Leanne’s Monochrome Madness. I decided on Clocks and Timepieces. Easy, I thought. Well, up to a point. There are plenty of clocks in towns, in stations, on churches and on public buildings. But too often they’re bit samey-samey. So I’m starting with one that we came upon by chance on our last day in Alsace, in Munster’s Catholic Church. It’s a modern Horloge de la Création, installed at the behest of André Voegele from Strasbourg, who has made it his ambition to install unusual timepieces. This one is interesting alright. It tells the time: hour by hour, minute by minute. But it also counts the years down, month by month; the days of the week; and the phases of the moon. It’s topped by a splendid cockerel, whom I chopped off a bit in my header photo. So here he is. I’m sure he’s a reliable alarm clock. Cocks usually are.

As to the rest. I have an indifferent photo of a clock that hasn’t functioned since 2007 – the Swiss Glockenspiel Clock in London; a clock outside St. Pancras Station; one from a station waiting room in Keighley; an intriguing one spotted outside an apartment block in Barcelona; the centrepiece of Thirsk’s Market Square; and a clock which is not a clock, but helps to govern the workings of the one high up outside Masham’s Parish Church. Now. Can you tell which is which?

And finally. A clock which is a shadow of its former self. This alarm clock sat in a hedge on a country road which I often passed during Daily Exercise in Lockdown. It stayed there for months after Normal Sevice had been resumed. It was always 8 o’clock. Then one day it disappeared. Life has not been the same since. I offer it to Becky for NovemberShadows.

The lonely alarm clock of Musterfield. Tells the correct time twice daily, but the alarm never rings.

Rummaging Through My Archives

This week, for the Lens-Artists Challenge, Anne has proposed a Scavenger hunt. What fun! Here’s what I’ve come up with, starting with my featured photo exhibiting the soft coats of of those baby ducklings.

Onwards.

Circular. A window at the end of an exhibition space in  Lluís Domènech i Montaner House-Museum, Canet de Mar.

Glass. All kinds of glass here. The plate glass of the shop window itself, and the glass and the bottle within. Each of them reflecting the Barcelona street where the shop is situated.

Shoelaces – usefully stringing up some discarded trainers in a residential district near Park Güell in Barcelona.

Waves. We’ll leave Spain for England, but just fish out our cameras as the ferry leaves Rotterdam, causing a variety of waves as it glides throuh the water.

Shadow. Some discovered in the Valley Gardens in Harrogate.

Wheels. Some old charmers noticed this year at Masham Steam Rally.

Rectangular: lots of rectangles here, from bricks to planks to the battered doors themselves – afarm door near Staveley, North Yorkshire.

Jewellery: my British readers will understand that I entirely approve of the sentiments displayed in this pair of earrings.

And that’s me done for today. An extra post for the week – just for fun.

Found at the Fair!

Now I’ve always hated funfairs, even as a child. Too noisy! Too crowded! Too scary! But I’ve always loved markets – local markets I mean, full (ideally)of stalls selling freshly picked lettuce and spinach, earth-covered newly-pulled potatoes or carrots. Local cheeses. Local fish. Local anything really.

But … I haven’t got time this week to curate photos from dozens of irresistible markets in France, in Spain, in Germany for this week’s Lens-Artists Challenge, Found at the Fair or Market, hosted by Anne-Christine. Most of my Spanish family is coming over for a fortnight. Hooray! So I’ll use this opportunity to present just one photo, taken when they were with us last year, and we visited Beamish and its properly old fashioned fairground. It can serve for Leanne’s Monochrome Madness too.

I’m off duty now. No posts (apart from Indian Friday, which I’ve scheduled). No comments. No visits to all the blogs I enjoy reading. My daughter will usually be working remotely: so we’ll be i/c the children, now 4 years old and 20 months. So … a different kind of duty, even more pleasurable than the world of blogging.