Possibly the least interesting blog ever

Tags

Coronavirus, Covid-19, Glastonbury, Minor Injury Unit, Street, Vaccine, West Mendip Hospital

Going out just once a fortnight for my Click and Collect shopping and any other essential bits and pieces, there hasn’t been much to blog about since Christmas. How I long for restrictions to be lifted and to visit a garden or some such!

But I did have an extra outing yesterday, late afternoon Friday. I went for my first Covid-19 vaccination at the local Minor Injury Unit, the West Mendip Hospital, a few minutes’ drive away in north Glastonbury. My doctors’ surgery had called me three days previously and gave me not only this appointment, but that for my second jab, 12 weeks forward – to the very minute. (Then on Thursday I received a letter from the NHS inviting me to book an appointed online, to be ignored if I was already fixed up.)

I thought people might object to my taking photos, but not at all. The atmosphere was great, the many volunteers all very cheerful, and the one professional I met, a nurse from a surgery in Street, likewise.

First Philip

told me where to park, a task taken up a few yards on by Rob.

Then this lady, whose name I didn’t get, directed my reversing into the very nearest spot to the hospital entrance.

She told me I could go straight in. (Twelve days earlier a neighbour had had to park a long way away and was told to wait in the car until she was collected, and that they were running 15 minutes behind.)

I had arrived early deliberately because I had unrelated business with the normal hospital reception. This lady told me to explain that to the specially set-up desk.

I did so, had my hands sanitised, carried out my task, and returning to that special desk took this photo.

I was given a form and directed along this corridor This cheery gentleman is not blocking but welcoming me!

He made sure I turned right, and that I went along a corridor, where there was a row of about ten socially distanced chairs. My neighbour had had to sit on the nearest, and gradually move up, a chair at a time, each chair being sanitised after each movement. (The organiser in me would have done that bit differently, but in my case only the first (= furthest away) was occupied, and I sat on the second.)

I had just started reading the form,

when Nurse Emma came up to me and invited me into her cubicle.

She went through the form with me, and left the cubicle for a few seconds.

I’m kicking myself for not taking a photo of her actually drawing the vaccine from the vial when she came back, but I was too engrossed in asking her how much liquid she was going to put into me. The answer was 0.3 millilitres. ‘Is that all?’ I said, thinking of Tony Hancock in a reverse situation.

Having done the necessary (another photo-op missed) she gave me a very detailed leaflet, from which I later learned that I had been given COVID-19 mRNA Vaccine BNT 162b2. I left a box of chocolates with her, and she directed me to a waiting area, where I restored my left arm’s clothing, and took this photo. All were (unsurprisingly) intrigued as to why I would want such a thing, but they gave their permission.

15 minutes later I was on my way out.

This lot at the entrance insisted (well, it was the man on the right again) that for completeness’ sake I should record them as I left in both directions,

and that was that.

Today the top of my arm is quite sore but not at all red, and that tells me that the antibodies are getting on with their work nicely. In 11 weeks and 6 days’ time, to the minute, I shall, all being well, be back there again.

Grantown-on-Spey 2

Tags

Anagach Woods, bird cherry, bog cotton, Caledonian forest, Clan Chattan, Clan Grant, Clarsach, Cromdale brooch, Curling, Decimalisation, dipper, Grant Arms Hotel, Grantown-on-Spey, Grantown-on-Spey-Museum, grey wagtail, James Grant, James Grant of Grant, mallard, pied wagtail, Ramsay MacDonald, River Spey, Spotted flycatcher, Springwatch, Strathspey, Treecreeper, wild lupin

Friday 31st May. On offer this morning was a walk in the local woods, led by Simon, one of the experts on hand in the hotel. With three other residents, I availed myself of it. We started at the local golf course,

where we saw nothing of interest, though Simon did his best to convince us that this was a rare Scottish wild cat.

The Anagach Woods were established in 1766 by James Grant of Grant (more later), but they look very natural, and provide excellent habitat for local fauna.

Treecreeper

And flora.

Bog cotton/cottongrass

As we walked through the woods, for much of the time to the right was acidic boggy land with stunted trees that could be 200 years old.

To our left, classic Caledonian forest, (the BBC’s ‘Springwatch’ is currently coming from just a few miles away) allowing lots of light through to nourish berry-bearing plants, good food for native species.

I was frequently a little behind my companions, as I was the only one taking photos.

Particularly if they involved reflections

The lichen is called Old Man’s Beard

We emerged from forest into more open land, and I learned that this native tree was called bird cherry.

We reached the River Spey, and went on to a bridge. (Of which, annoyingly, I did not think to take a photo when we later went down to the path on the right hand side.)

You don’t often get the chance to see a mallard’s orange feet so clearly.

On the far side of the bridge I was able to see this bird, identified for me as a spotted flycatcher.

I said that I couldn’t see any spots, even when it obligingly turned round for me.

But spotted flycatcher it was, I was assured.

From the bridge I was also able to wonder at these wild lupins, through which we were to wander minutes later. We also saw a very newly fledged grey wagtail.

Once down there, along the bank we watched a fledged pied wagtail being fed. Its parent was too quick for me.

Further along was a dipper, again it was thought, newly fledged, not least because it was showing a marked reluctance to dip.

And then there were two, sibling fledglings. Believe it or not.

As we started to walk back, completing a loop, it started to spit. I was able to notice and admire these patriotic finials.

By the time we were back at the hotel, via the Post Office in my case, it was pouring.

And still was in the afternoon, so instead of pursuing my rural intentions, I did that standby of wet afternoons, the local museum.

Which was small and perfectly formed. I learned that the Clan Grant had been around for a few centuries when Sir James Grant of Grant, he of the Anagach Woods, and known as ‘the good Sir James’, decided, in the mid-eighteenth century, to create a town on the River Spey. It didn’t become quite the boom town he had hoped, because it was too distant from anywhere, but it throve nevertheless, especially once it had become such a sought after place for holidays and leisure a hundred years later.

I learned about the superclan (that’s my word) Chattan, and its motto ‘Touch not the cat bot [without] a glove’, meaning that they were fierce fighters. This was a confederation of clans and large families with origins at least as far back as the fourteenth century. The wild cats engraved on this large 1600s brooch, the Cromdale brooch, suggest it may have a connection to the Clan Chattan.

Sir James’s plan of Grantown-on-Spey, showing the Anagach Woods, and The Square, in fact a thin oblong, where the Grant Arms Hotel is located.

The former town clock mechanism

Alone in the museum, for 15 minutes I got quite emotional as I took up the invitation, below, to try the clàrsach, which was perfectly in tune, picking out tunes and even singing with it. (In the evening, I spent some time researching the cost of and how to play the instrument, I had been so moved by the experience, but have reluctantly come to the conclusion that I am unlikely to be any more successful with this instrument than I have been with any requiring the co-ordination of more than two fingers!)

Tearing myself away – I felt I could have stayed there for hours – I perused the rest of the museum, which featured various professions and achievements of the town’s residents, including the inventor of the flush toilet. (No pictures!)

Endorsement of he hotel by Prime Minster Ramsay MacDonald in 1934, from its wording apparently solicited.

I was fascinated by these next two images when I came to see them on screen. The light was flickering a little on the display of the curling stone, but my eyes did not see the complete darkness the camera did as it took the photos on burst.

Finally, the 1970s are clearly history to some, though I can remember the day we converted to decimal coins as if it were yesterday. Ironically, I was working in H M Treasury in Whitehall at the time. The lady on the sandwich kiosk was having a terrible time with the new coinage, and the queue was very long indeed!

Namibia/Botswana/Zambia 10

Tags

African fish-eagle, Ayre's hawk eagle, Black-crowned night-heron, buffalo, Bushbuck, Darter, Egyptian goose, elephant, Great white egret, Grey go-away-bird, hippo, jacana, Little bee-eater, Little egret, Mahangu Safari Lodge, Malachite kingfisher, Namibia, Okavango River, Squacco heron, waterbuck, White-backed Night-heron, White-fronted Bee-eater

Friday 1st March, late afternoon cruise on the Okavango River, upstream from Mahangu Lodge. For the most part we hugged the opposite bank, which I think formed part of the national park.

As we move off, we look over to the lodge and its double-decker boat. We’re on the single decker one.

Waterbuck

Disappearing bushbuck

Malachite kingfisher, with prey

Great white egret

This very large elephant seemed extremely angry as he ripped up the grass. Anthropomorphism on my part, no doubt.

Little egret

Egyptian geese

African jacana

What a difference in light when I swing my camera to the opposite bank.

Squacco heron

Darter

White-fronted bee-eater

On the other bank, two go-away-birds

Ayre’s Hawk-eagle

Little bee-eater and White-fronted bee-eater

Little bee-eater

African jacana

Staring out at us, a juvenile Black-crowned night-heron

Buffalo

Bushbuck

African Fish-eagle

Malachite kingfisher

People were very excited to see this, an ‘uncommon resident’, a White-backed Night-heron.

The light was falling, and the boat hastened us back to the lodge. My camera had difficulty with the light level as I pointed it at these hippos, …

… and at my colleagues as they relaxed after a fascinating couple of hours. Time to look at photos rather than take them.

Namibia/Botswana/Zambia 8

Tags

Anchieta's dwarf python, black mamba, Black-croned Night-heron, Kaisosi River lodge, Namibia, Pied kingfisger, Red bishop, red-billed hornbill, Rundu, Striped mongoose, termite mound, weaver bird's nest

Thursday, 28th February. Before sunrise, all the others went off, after a coffee, for a bird-watching walk around the grounds of the Lodge. Being rather birded out, I allowed myself a few more minutes in bed, though still had had my breakfast pretty early, well before the others got back to have theirs. I filled in time by wandering round the grounds on my own in non-birdwatching mode, and then visiting the ‘Reptile Walk’ of the lodge, which had sadly seen better days.

The bar, where we had had our lunch on the two days we were there.

Trees often grow through termite mounds, apparently because of the greater fertility of the soil, and possibly their greater water content

I didn’t go looking for birds, but sometimes you just can’t avoid them. Red-billed hornbill, in still poor, early morning light.

Anchieta’s dwarf python. Quite big. actually

Black mamba. Not very big, but I’m glad there’s glass between me and it.

Later, as I went to join the vehicles to leave, this family of striped mongooses, very much at home in the grounds of the lodge, were taking advantage of the hose water.

We covered a lot of ground this day, 430 km/267 miles. It was pretty hot (35 degrees C max) , and thunderstorms threatened, never amounting to much though.

Weaver birds’ nests.

Even a refuelling stop is the opportunity for birdwatching.

Ooh, and here we are at a sewage works.

Fortunately, the problem with Jakes’s vehicle (a tyre I think) arose in a town, Tsumeb. Jakes explains it, Neil listens, and the mechanic mops his brow.

Namibia is rich in minerals.

Our lunch was taken at a Roy’s Rest Camp, whose proprietors have a wacky sense of humour!

Looks fairly normal to begin with, just a little run-down. (It gets good reviews though).

Just two examples among many of eccentricity.

The dining area seems normal, until you start noticing little curios. No pictures because I was eating…

… and then keen to get back to chat with this man. A Scot, who had lived in Australia for the last 40 years (though you’d think he’d never left Renfrewshire from his accent) who is travelling the world with just a 150 cc bike, (there in front of our right-hand vehicle), a mobile phone, and virtually no plans. Is nearly at the end of his years-long odyssey. Amazing fellow. I got this photo, with his permission, but didn’t like to ask his name.

Once we got going again, there was little time to stop for wildlife photographs, and I snatched such pictures of Namibian rural life as I could through the windows of the vehicle.

When we were nearly at our next destination, near Rundu, a dust storm arose as we went through the town. “Windows closed please!”

Shortly afterwards, we arrived at Kaisosi River Lodge on the Okavango River, with Angola on the other side.

Four rooms in this building. Mine was downstairs, in the nearer half, the river beyond.

From the riverside, No 3.

Just so peaceful after a long day’s journeying.

View from the ‘French’ window.

View from the verandah by the dining room.

But the dining room was not – yet – for us. After settling in, we went out to visit ….. a sewage works.

Homeward bound in the shower with firewood.

Black-crowned Night-herons

Red bishop. The first we had seen, but we were to see more.

Embroidery on my pillowcase. Pied kingfisher.

Tennis in Bath

Tags

Anne Keovathong, Bath University, Clare Balding, Fed Cup, Georgia, Great Britain, Harriet Dart, Jo Konta, Katie Boultar, Katie Swan, Serbia, Slovenia, Tennis

When the Fed Cup, the women’s equivalent of the Davis Cup, comes to the UK for the first time in 26 years, and it takes place at the Bath University Sports Training Village, just a (theoretical, but we won’t dwell on that) hour’s drive away from me, well I have to go for at least one day, don’t I? I did so yesterday, 6th February, for the first day.

Having allowed an enormous amount to time to get there, I arrived at my seat on the Centre Court, my re-usable travel cup filled with coffee, just as the first singles players, from Georgia and Serbia, were warming up. There followed in the ‘morning’ session, which finished at 3.30 pm, another singles match and a doubles between the two countries.

Many others seem to have had travel problems. The stands gradually became more occupied, but they were not entirely full at this session.

This young woman lost.

This young woman from Georgia had attitude – but she also lost, …

… to this one from Serbia, in two sets.

For the doubles, the first Georgian singles loser – right – was joined by a much more powerful player, who took a nasty fall in the second game.

Her ankle was strapped up, and the pair went on to win in two sets, taking the overall score to 2-1 in Serbia’s favour.

The ‘afternoon’ session started at 4.30 pm. I took a few photos on my way back to the courts.

This is how it works. No, I haven’t fully understood it either. Suffice it to say that what I was watching was Group 1, Europe/Africa, Zone B, Group B, and the results of this round robin, which will be finally determined on Saturday, (GB play Hungary and Greece meanwhile) will help settle country placings for the 2020 Fed Cup.

A gaggle of ball boys watches events on Number 1 Court. (The ball girls on the whole were more on the ball than the boys.)

Many more camera operators in this session, because it was between Great Britain and Slovenia.

Katie Boulter arrives, followed by coach Anne Keovathong

The coin toss

A familiar face passes in front of me after first set

Many, including myself, responded to the organisers’ request to dress in red. The stands were full for the afternoon session.

I wish I’d taken more close-ups.

A big hug from the GB coach after Katie wins in two sets.

Post-match interview with Clare Balding.

Next up was Johanna Konta for her singles.

My goodness she had us worried in the first set. So many times she looked as if she was going to lose it. My heart was thumping, and I had to make myself take long slow breaths. I didn’t know I cared so much!

Phew! She pulled through, and the second set came more easily to her.

The doubles match was played by young Katie Swan and Harriet Dart. They raced away to 5-0 in the first set, but were held to 6-2.

And in the second set they again raced off, this time to a 4-0 lead.

But the Slovenians again managed to hold them to 6-2. So overall Great Britain won 3-0.

I rushed off, not staying for the media interview. It was 10.10 pm. And I was home in 55 minutes. Some people go for all four days. I don’t think my heart could cope with the stress, especially if Jo Konta were to do that again!

PS, 4 days later. Great Britain went on to come top out of all eight of the countries in this group, and a play-off in April will determine whether they are promoted to the next tier.

Moving freely in Europe and in London

Tags

Brexit, Covent Garden, Last of the Summer Wine, London Transport Museum, Ode to Joy, Olive Simpson, Parliament, Regent III, Routemaster, Sarah Connolly, Simon Wallfisch, Trolley bus, women poster artist

Less than a month after the last time, I was in London again two days ago. The purpose this time was to join (mainly professional) singers and instrumentalists to sing and play – over and over again – the European Union anthem, the Ode to Joy by Beethoven, outside Parliament, to protest the need for musicians to have freedom of movement within the EU.  On my way to a meet up point in Smith Square, I went past the media village that has been camped there for weeks.  This is only part of it, and it has recently been fenced off to the public, which now means that protesters can not easily be seen behind presenters.  We were going to do our best and loudest.

Difficult to estimate our numbers, but I reckon we were some 200 or so. Here’s a part of us.

In the middle is Simon Wallfisch, singing lustily in his fine baritone, and at the same time playing his cello, its case on his back.

Surrounded by professionals. (Photo Helen, Olive’s sister)

I’m behind the singer, Dame Sarah Connolly, the originator of this protest. (Photo Chris Mercer)

With my singer friend, Olive Simpson, thanks to whom I knew about this event. She has just brought out a book, ‘Molly’s Musings’.  Wit and whimsy. (Photo Helen, Olive’s sister)

Father Christmas has his opinion.

Apparently we were covered in German TV news bulletins, Reuters also took a story, and we could be seen on Sky News.  I watched the BBC 1 o’clock news on catch up when I got home, and certainly we could be seen and heard, very faintly, if you knew to look and listen for us.  (The banner ‘Musicians depend on freedom of movement’ was far too far away to be read though.)

But I didn’t go straight home. There were several hours before my coach back to Somerset was due to leave.  So I walked along the Embankment, and up Savoy Street to Covent Garden, and the London Transport Museum. This is housed in the old Covent Garden flower market. It would be more accurately, but cumbersomely, named the Transport in London Museum, not least because it starts in 1800.

I tried very hard not to take photos, especially as I didn’t have my camera with me, and my tablet, on which I had taken the earlier photos, was in the Museum’s cloakroom. But I didn’t succeed. I had my tiny phone on me and took lots of pictures. Fortunately the quality of the results was such that my selection here was easy to make!

A replica.  The originals will not have stayed this shiny for long, and maybe never were, given the quality of today’s paints!

Wonderful ironwork

Inside this Metropolitan Railway carriage was just like the mainline carriages I remember from childhood. Indeed the whole visit was an exercise in nostalgia.

I remember these ticket machines!

But my memory does not go quite as far back as this bus and tram! The former was used in the First World War for troops.

I do remember the trolley man putting the pole back on the catenary though.

There was a temporary exhibition of works by women poster artists.  Women were welcome to put forward their art from the outset.  I could have spent a very long time indeed in this part of the Museum, so was delighted to find that there was one copy left of the accompanying book when I asked at the end. 

Fans of ‘Last of the Summer Wine’ will understand that I was delighted to find there had been an artist called Dora Batty.

People get nostalgic about the Routemaster (left) , but I get nostalgic about the model of London double-decker red bus before that, the Regent III (centre). We used to catch the 120 as the first stage of a trip to my grandmother’s in Staines.

A final look at the lovely ironwork, before meeting Mary in the café for a cuppa, family catch-up, and lots and lots of political talk, (as by now the  Commons Brexit Withdrawal Vote had been withdrawn.)

I would hope to return to this museum in the future. I could easily have spent the double the time I did there.

The Mid-Somerset Show, 2018

Tags

dog show, dry stone walling, Mid-Somerset Show, Somerset Rural Life Museum, wicker

It would not normally have occurred to me to visit the Mid-Somerset Show, but as a volunteer at the Somerset Rural Life Museum, I had been invited to help on their stand for a couple of hours.  So I arrived some 50 minutes early to take ‘a quick mooch around’ beforehand.  Ha! Quick? – it was vast!

As I arrived, there seemed to be an awful lot of dogs around.  I soon understood why.I moved on after a few minutes. The Somerset willow/wicker industry is still thriving, (and indeed we display a wicker coffin in the museum).  There was dry stone walling, and timbercraft. I particularly liked the bench which could be moved around like a wheelbarrow. (A wheelbench? Or a benchbarrow?)

I had seen that there was to be a cider pressing at 10.30, so I made my way to the marquee where it was to take place.  I saw no pressing, perhaps because judging was still taking place, but was delighted to discover the Rural Life Museum’s stall nearby, as I could now stop worrying that I would never find it.

There were things to entertain children, and  dozens, if not hundreds, of stalls selling things to consume, to wear, and to play with, and offering services, commercial, voluntary and public, (no photos of any of these).  There were horses, and ponies, sheep, young (and older) shepherds dispensing advice, sheep judgings, sheep products, small goats (and large), alpacas, pigs, and a judge getting down to things.  Cattle big and small,

This animal was so huge, I thought it to be a bull, but another photo has shown me that it is a cow

I had wandered about the huge showground so much that I was a little concerned that I’d never find the cider and Somerset heritage marquee again. I was just about on time. One of the children’s activities we offered was stick weaving, which I had never heard of. Custom was slow to begin with, but it picked up, and it was useful that there were two of us to chat with both children and grown-ups.  A few had visited the Museum before it  closed in 2014 for refurbishment, and some had already visited after it had reopened last year.  Some children had already visited in the last few months with their schools, and were keen, and primary school teachers took an interest, as did grandparents.

I had intended to leave the showground when my two-hour stint was up, but I was conscious that there was a lot more to see, and also I hoped to find a leather belt to buy from a craft stall (which I did in due course).  As I emerged from the heritage tent it was very sunny and warm – not forecast – and teeming with people.  I saw more horses, bees and bee products, bantams,

It’s true there was something of a breeze, but I suspect this beastie had its feathers permanently ruffled.

golden goose eggs (?) and other kinds, and Egg Sheeran.  Just when I thought there couldn’t be any more kinds of animals (and was pleased not to have seen cats in cages) I came across a few rabbits. Human exhibits changed every hour. This is the Barnacle Buoys, who often sing in support of the RNLI. (Apologies for the words clipped at the beginning and end.  The latter is ‘ago’, and is sung one tone up followed by one tone down – for those concerned.)

The essence of a country show is its produce and homecraft competitions.

Upcycled denim competition

Fewer people made it to the far end of the marquee

More child’s play. Well away from the main dog classes was a ring where some kind of obedience test was happening.  I didn’t stay long enough to understand what it was all about, but this apparently obedient dog is here being persuaded by the ring master – in vain and for the third time – to retrieve a ball and take it back to its owner.  

Its owner is in the blue shorts

Beginning to get hungry, and not keen on any of the fast food on offer, I made my way back to the car park at 2 pm.

The dog classes were continuing.

Some dogs were more co-operative …

… than others.

All had been amazingly well-behaved.

I was so pleased that the SRLM had appealed to its volunteers for help, and intend to go again another year.

USA 2018 (15), Horses, waterfowl, and people

Tags

Balboa Park, dressage, Griffith Park, Hilda Gurney, horses, Keenridge, Lake Balboa, Los Angeles, Marmalade restaurant, pepper tree, Thousand Oaks, waterfowl

USA 2018 (15), Horses, waterfowl, and people.  From Bozeman, I flew via Denver to Burbank, Los Angeles. And true to form, the second of these flights was about an hour late arriving. I’m not sure we were ever given a reason this time, but it meant my niece,  Karina, had to hang around for me.  There wasn’t much of the day left, and there are no photos of that day.

Karina was having car worries, but she had worked out a plan to minimise disruption the following day, Friday 23rd February, which she had kindly taken off work. In any case, as I told her, I wasn’t there to do stuff, but just to be with her in her normal life – though, as she replied, sitting around in a car dealer’s was hardly typical!  However, that was not for long.  Having deposited the car, she took me off (thanks to a courtesy shuttle) for brunch at ‘Marmalade’ in Thousand Oaks. She had warned me late in January that they had been experiencing temperatures in the eighties Fahrenheit (upwards of 26ºC) in her part of Los Angeles county. This had not lasted though, and my t-shirts were unnecessary.  While it was sunny, there was a definite chill in the air, and locals found it cold.

Karina practices dressage to what seems to me (a total non-expert) a very high amateur level. We visited the Keenridge stables, where she has a few lessons from a former Olympian, Hilda Gurney (bronze medal US team dressage 1976). The aura of this woman was palpable.

Pepper tree

From here we went to spend time (and Karina effort) with her own horse, Klassie, at the equestrian centre where he is stabled.

I saw quite a lot of the devastation caused by the recent wildfires and mudslides in southern California.  I didn’t think it decent to take photos, but I seem inadvertently to have captured here some of the damage caused by wildfires which had happened very near Karina’s stables – causing evacuation – a few months prior to the ones which made the headlines in, mainly, Ventura and Santa Barbara.

Karina is not short – Klassie is tall!

Towards the end of the day, because Karina knows I like walking, we were joined by a friend of hers, Sara, who took us into and up Griffith Park, Los Angeles.

Looking back

Karina and Sara graciously agreed to my taking this photo of them against the background of downtown LA

On the way back down

The following day, Sunday, Karina had another car problem, but this could be sorted at a tire/tyre place within walking distance of her home, after she had paid an early visit to her own stables for a lesson there.

Meanwhile, the lovely Patches looked after me.

Looking at the time available for the rest of the day, before an evening meet-up, we decided to visit a local park, which Karina had never got around to seeing herself.  I was pleased to give her a reason to do so. It looked as if it might take us no time at all to walk around the lake, but Karina did not know just how long I can linger when looking at wildlife!  (This time I had no wildlife expert or bird book to identify the birds we were seeing, so I have been hesitant in my labelling.  One problem is that there can be American versions of Eurasian birds which look almost identical, c.f. ravens and magpies. Corrections and additions would be gratefully received.)

Like the Eurasian grey heron

These three caused much amusement. Is the second goose (gander) in courtship mode, with his tail feathers up? Is the little white bird a chaperone? In love with the first goose?

The threesome stayed together for all the time we were aware of them

Even when the geese eyed up the ?American bittern, [Later: I think it might be a juvenile Black-crowned night heron]

the little white bird was close by

“Do not feed the ducks”

OK, coots are not ducks but…

Grackle, I think

I couldn’t see what these birds were, about the size of starlings, but they were making a heck of a racket as we walked by the tree

I’d love to know what the ducks on the right with the green streak are

Cormorants/anhingas/shag?

I’m pretty sure these are Egyptian Geese

A further visit to Klassie ended the afternoon, and I was delighted to see this coyote hanging around, on a hillside just outside the premises, as the sun began to set. The evening was spent very pleasurably at the restaurant of an Irish pub, (I had fish and chips!) with three of Karina’s horsey friends.  The talk was very little of horses and much of my Yellowstone trip, which I was delighted to recount.

I thought the photo of the coyote at the stables might be the last picture in this whole USA 2018 series – but I was to be mistaken.  The flight home was very visually exciting.

Andalucia 8

Tags

Acebuche, Andalucia, Andalusia, Andujar, Charente, Doñana, Durer, granite, Great piece of turf, Guadalquivir, Jandula, Naturetrek, Sierra Morena

From El Rocio to Andújar and beyond, Wednesday to Friday. Taking a rest after our last morning drive at El Rocío, we set off at midday for the three-hour drive, broadly following but sadly not aware of the Guadalquivír river, to our second hotel, the Hotel los Piños, 14 kilometres above Andújar, in the eastern  Sierra Morena.  But first we went backwards a little into the National Park, to have a picnic lunch at a lovely visitor centre, El Acebuche (the ‘wild olive tree’ already noted in El Rocío).  The temperature was rising (from about 25°C in Seville to about 30°C at the end of the week), but as long as one was in the shade, the dry heat was very welcome.  The visitor centre was informative:

National, Natural, Parks etc in Andalucia. Doñana is the orange patch to the west, on the Atlantic, and the Sierra Morena the central and smallest green patch at the north.  The very tip at the south, on the Straits of Gibraltar, is Tarifa, near where our migration-geek Naturetrek guides, Simon and Niki live. Gibraltar itself is the little southward-pointing spur just to the east.

El Rocío is where the dark and light green parts meet up with the yellow, and Acebuche is nearly at the coast to the south south-west of the town.

“Travelling without frontiers”

An unusual sundial.  It works both sides, depending on where the sun is.

The scenery changed as we drove: Our all-day outing the following day showed the dry landscape of the Sierra scattered with boulders (Pictures also snatched from moving vehicle).

Taken from a picnic spot as we had lunch, overlooking the…

reservoir of the Jándula, a tributary of the Guadalquivír

Arty-farty picture taken that day. (Ever since becoming aware of Dürer’s wonderful painting, ‘Great piece of turf (1503)’ I have been very sensible of the beauty of clumps of grass, etc.)

Sitting around looking for wildlife, no 23

Returning to barracks in the late afternoon, a view of distant mountains, not nearly as pretty, sadly, as when we had seen it in the cool mists of the morning

Another a-f picture. I loved the sun coming through the seed-heads.

The following morning, Friday, we got up very early indeed, before breakfast, in quest of our ‘prey’.  It was SOOOO COLD!  But beautiful.  We were very glad to get back to a good breakfast.

Clockwise round the table: Simon (guide-naturalist), Trish, David, Hugh, Stephen, Niki (guide-naturalist, and here waitress), Judy, Penny, Sharon, Margaret (hidden), Jason, and Henry.

Again we took a picnic lunch (Simon and Niki, our Naturetrek guides, did us proud each time!) and our stopping place made me nostalgic for my previous life in France. Where we ate so reminded me of lazy picnics on the banks of the Charente river – though perhaps there were no mountains in the French setting.

Sitting around looking for wildlife, no 34.

Interested in geology, I had been fascinated in these two days to see many extraordinary granite formations as we drove along, but I was able to get a photo of none of them.  This, right by our picnic spot, is a poor representative.  We ended the day where we had watched the dawn arrive hours earlier.  The final three posts will be about the wildlife we saw during those five days in the National and Natural Parks…

 

Somerset Rural Life Museum

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Glastonbury Abbey, Glastonbury Tor, Harriet Mead, Hitler, James Lynch, Mapstone, Mussolini, Somerset Rural Life Museum, South West Heritage Trust

I live just a five-minute walk from the Somerset Rural Life Museum, which has been closed for refurbishment for the last three years.  Its unofficial official reopening was yesterday, and a friend, Liz, and I went to it.  What a fantastic job they’ve done! The Museum comprises a farmhouse, the Abbey Barn (that’s Glastonbury Abbey) and a small amount of land.  Until Henry VIII’s 16th century Dissolution of all the abbeys, all the land round here belonged to the Abbey. Since then it has passed through many hands, and in 1917 George Mapstone took over the tenancy.  Mr and Mrs H R Mapstone bought the farm in 1940.  Mrs Mapstone sold most of the land for housing (including where I live) in 1974, but gave the farmhouse and the Abbey Barn to Somerset County Council which used it for the museum. (For the history of the landholding – and much more about Glastonbury – see here.)

The unofficial official opening took place on the north side of the Barn.  Because it was an unofficial official opening there was no ribbon to be cut (the official official opening will be by the Duke of Gloucester in a week or so’s time), so instead the last surviving Mapstone daughter and the Chairman of the Trustees of the museum together unveiled the flag of Somerset.Given the numbers present, we were invited not all to go in via the front door (of the farmhouse), so Liz and I made straight for the courtyard,

(Glastonbury Tor in the background)

where there was music,but most importantly the horse, Captain, made entirely of scrap metal. Liz’s partner, Ray, had been in charge of the machinery which had lifted him into place, and had apparently come home that day raving about the sculpture.  Liz and Ray know a thing or two professionally about horses, and Liz was exclaiming how completely anatomically correct this creation was.  Moreover, she had learned that the sculptor, Harriet Mead, had made no preliminary drawing, but had just started welding pieces of scrap metal together.  (Her work has been featured on the BBC’s ‘Countryfile’.)

 

There is no risk that the sculpture will be pushed over.  It is installed on a solid plinth buried in a large hole in the ground.

We moved into the Abbey Barn, the south side of which completes the courtyard.  It has a splendid new packed earth – I think it’s that – floor (the hardness of which, incidentally will make it much more satisfying for any concerts held there from now on).From there, we went into the farmyard galleries, which, although still housed in the courtyard buildings, have been utterly transformed. Here is just a small selection of the photos I took, (sadly on my phone – I hadn’t thought to take my camera).It was time for a coffee, bought from the café which was undoubtedly having its busiest ever day – entry to the museum was free today –  in a kitchen which was totally new to the staff!

I’d love to know what was being indicated!

 

We talked to the artist, James Lynch, of this amazing landscape, painted in egg tempera on plaster, for a while. Then it was time to go, as we had met and stopped to chat with many interesting people that Liz knew, and as we went we reflected on some of the many quotations appearing around the place.

(I used to sing this at my school in London. I had no idea it was a Somerset folksong!)

With a backward look at the farmhouse, and its porch, the proper entrance to the Museum, I decided to return today, Sunday, to finish looking around.

 

Which I did, with camera this time, around lunchtime.  The time of day, the threatening showers, (the dark and cloudy morning had not turned out to be sunshiny) and of course the fact that it was not longer the opening day, meant than attendance was much thinner on the ground, though I imagine that the staff and volunteers would be pleased enough to see this many people in due course.

I looked around the farmhouse this time, though there remain two more rooms to be fitted out, and was able to admire how well a modern extension to the museum has been blended with the old house.The rooms house many exhibits which have been in storage for so long.

 

The farmhouse kitchen

1940s fairground targets with the faces of Hitler and Mussolini on them

A variety of drinking mugs

 

 

And a very modern exhibit – a waste bin from a recent ‘Glastonbury’ Festival (held in fact at Pilton 7 miles to the east)

 

I went out into the yard again, where Captain was still being admired, and I even saw a woman stroking his nose.  I wonder will that part of his anatomy become shiny in due course?

The black shed is a grain store

The orchard, with its varieties of apples and its sheep, is once more accessible to the public, and has acquired a coconut shy – which I refrained from playing on.

Shepherd’s hut 

Unlike many museums, this one does not oblige you to leave via the shop, but I did so.  It is good to know that just five minutes away I may buy gifts of Somerset produce and manufacture.

 

Congratulations to the South West Heritage Trust for this magnificent restoration, come to fruition so soon after they reopened the beautiful Museum of Somerset at Taunton.