Daffodils

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These are from our garden. The reason why they are not still in the garden? We had to have a tree cut down and they were likely to be squashed underneath its limbs. And so they are now in a vase in the kitchen.

In fact we have had a lot of work done over the last couple of months so plants have been squished a bit. We also need rain to bring the perennials that are still dormant underground into leaf and flower. Hopefully we will have some more significant rain in the next couple of weeks.

I particularly love the tulip flowers. I go for dark rich colours….. If we ever get the garden done I will post some photos.

A handsome dog

A friend was doing some work on our garden today and he bought his dog with him. This is him sitting in the Land rover. He enjoyed coming out and seeing us working along the alleyway.

He has such a nice friendly nature, he put his paw up and wanted his chest rubbing. Then he let me scratch him behind his ears. I loved him pushing his head into my hand. He even licked my nose.

I know he’s a collie dog and he should be herding sheep probably. But it was just nice to meet a friendly animal. He only barked when the Land rover left, because he didn’t want to go!

Sore throat

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Over the last couple of months I’ve had a sore throat every few days. I don’t know why. I think it’s to do with the weather. We have warm weather, then cold. I feel fed up because I have things I want and need to do but I don’t feel up to it. Even my ears are aching. I guess I’m moaning about something that is very minor and trivial in comparison with serious illnesses.

I will take some tablets and get some throat lozenges…. If I’m quiet here (pun intended) you know why.

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Talking

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The world is full of words

Talk is cheap

Grey green gold gossip

Muddy, murky muttering

Sharp staccato shouting.

Pink pretty pouting purring,

Cracked cramped cackles.

Light lilting, laughing lullabies…

Singing or sonorous sound scapes

Violent verbosity

Quiet qualities of queen’s English.

Extravagant evangelising.

Whispered wailing.

Yes words are cheap and cheerful or cheerless.

 

Candle light

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The candle flickered and guttered as the front door opened. Jim entered the room with a flurry of snow. The cold air made a hole in the warmth.

‘You OK’ he asked? ‘Yes just about’ , said Sarah. ‘I kept the wood stove burning all day, but the power went out half an hour ago so I lit a candle ‘.

The weather had been mad since the 20’s. Global temperatures had continued to increase, but this winter had been wild. Snow had fallen for three months now. Sometimes they managed to get out to the shops, but they had to walk down the hill over the fields because the lane was full up with snow. It was one of those deep lanes which had been worn away over the centuries. The land around it was about 6 foot higher. In this snow it was impossible to get along because of the drifts.

‘So how many tablets have you got left?’ asked Jim. ‘Five’ she said. ‘I will have to get down to the village soon’ he thought for a second. ‘What about the weather?’

‘I heard the report before the power went off – bad for two days, then it might break?’

Jim looked at his wife, pale and thin. She was shivering with cold. ‘I’ll fetch you a blanket’ .

Later as they lay on a mattress infront of the wood burner, he looked at the ceiling and watched the last glimmers of the candle. He listened to her uneven breathing, a harsh rattle sometimes breaking into the rhythm of sleeping breath. ‘ Oh lord ‘ he thought, ‘let the snow stop, let me get her medicine, let things get better’ .

Three weeks later as the snow turned to rain, and the land flooded, the local police came looking for them. Inside the living room they found their bodies..

A note was on the table under a burnt down candle. ‘I can’t live without her’ was the simple message he had left.

Berryhill fields

I’ve just visited Berryhill fields in the centre of Stoke-on-Trent. It’s one of the green lungs of our City, a country park between Fenton, Longton, Bentilee, Sandford Hill and Bucknall.

I took some lovely photos of the view, including the TV mast that dominates the skyline. The white blossom along the pathway up from Arbourfield drive is floating like a pure white cloud alongside the path.

I’m worried that this green lung of the city could disappear. The local Conservative and Independant council wants to build 1300 houses on the site, this despite there being a covenant on the land to prevent this. In fact there have been protests over its use in the past. I know we need new housing but why destroy the environment. Yes there are industrial patches around the site. Why not build on brownfield sites in the city instead?

In a world where pollution and environmental degradation are on the increase we should preserve what we have left of our green spaces.

 

I was up there with Labour councellors and candidates. We were filming and taking photos of the parkland to raise the issue with the voters in the upcoming local elections

Minton Tiles

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I had the pleasure of being invited to a behind the scenes visit to our city archive today. I had been asked if I wanted to go along by a friend who is doing an art project about the pottery manufacturer.

We went up to the third floor of the city library and were shown round the back of the reception desk into the staff only section. There the city archivist showed us some of the fading pages in the ledgers. They were images of pots that various pot banks made in the history of Stoke-on-Trent.

There were pattern books for tableware and tiles  ledgers with the cost of making the ware and details of workers. The old pottery firms did not collect a lot of details and a lot was thrown out when they closed down. But once we had been in the air conditioned archives we were allowed to sit and (very carefully) look at selected pattern books including prints of tiles to surround hearths, doorways and floors. Some were mundane but others were breathtaking. Art nouveau and art deco masterpieces.

I’m very pleased I was invited.

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Weeping willow

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When I was a child I would sit next to your trunk

Hiding from view being your green screen.

Your roots must run deep down in the ground,

Water running through the earth,

Turning your leaves green before other trees.

Skeleton twigs surround you

Dark evergreen screens you

But only you swirl and wave in the breeze.

Dancing a ballet of soft leaves,

Your dress curves and waves in folds.

Once fully grown with green

Your leaves will make my hiding den again.