23 July 2014


Gaza Palestinians 649         Israel 31
(includes 132 children)                      (includes 28 soldiers)
It's not a cricket match nor a meeting of two great baseball teams. We are not talking about rugby or athletics or snooker, we are talking death. The Grim Reaper. The end of life. Even as we speak, Israel is wreaking havoc in the Gaza Strip with its American tanks and state of the art weaponry while Palestinians fire pathetic "rockets" into Israel  that are not much more deadly than grenades on sticks. If these rockets are such a threat, how come more Israelis haven't died? How come the damage to buildings is so superficial?

We are led to believe that the humane Israeli military machine messages Gaza civilians ahead of its missile strikes - warning them to evacuate their homes. Where are they meant to run to? How much time have they got? How do the Israeli generals know the messages have got through? Can Israeli bombings really be so pinpoint accurate that they always hit their targets and leave the people next door free to get on with their lives?

It is such an unequal conflict and personally I shudder when I hear the justifications and tissue thin apologies of Israeli spokesmen. Obviously, the issues surrounding Israel and the Palestinians are complex - like a tangled ball of wool. I would have no idea how it might be sorted out but killing women and children, bombing schools and hospitals, creating terror in the densely packed streets of Gaza is surely not the way. Talking, agreement and compromise are the only way forward. Ultimately, that's how it has always been.

Dumb Dubya Bush and Catholic Convert Blair promoted a war ON terror, but Philadepelphia-educated Benjamin Netanyahu is now conducting a war OF terror on a desperate people whose lives are not underwritten by America with its vast military arsenal and influential Jewish lobbyists. One things's for sure - the death and terror currently being meted out by Israel will not be the end of it all. It's no solution, no solution at all. If you kick a wounded dog it will bite back. If you put a lid on a bottle of soda water and shake it up it is liable to explode.

20 July 2014


Surprisingly, Bob is not a woman's name - it is a man's name! It is not short for "bobbin" which is an item used in textile industries. No - Bob is short for Robert. Over here in England the most famous Bob is an animated children's TV character called Bob the Builder. Here he is! Hello Bob!
But a "bob" may also be a hairstyle:-
Or it could be a "bobsleigh":-
When walking in a cave or coal mine, you may need to bob down:-
And at Halloween you may find yourself bobbing for apples:-
The name "Bob" is favoured by owners of small dogs throughout the English speaking world. It is estimated that there are approximately 2.7 million canine"Bobs" worldwide. And on that happy note I do believe that I have exhausted all of my "Bob" knowledge. I hope that this post has been instructive to any Bobs who happen to have been visiting this humble blog.

18 July 2014


Lydgate Farm in Aldwark - it offers B&B accommodation
Thursday was hot. Weather forecasters on the television were warning we Britons to stay indoors and avoid vigorous exercise so naturally  that inspired me to go on a ten mile walk in Derbyshire. My starting point was the tiny village of Aldwark which is west of Matlock. Once it was on the old stage coach route from Derby to Buxton but now it's a forgotten place and would be very peaceful if not for the sound of nearby limestone workings.

From Aldwark, I headed for Winster and then along Bonsall Lane, taking a cross country footpath south to another small and rather delightful  village called Ible. I had planned to continue strolling  southwards from there into Griffe Grange Valley but there was a bull in one of the fields through which the little used public footpath runs. He advanced in my direction as soon as he saw me approaching and wasn't coming over to exchange pleasantries or even to talk bull. His horns were lethal weapons and he was snorting pure testosterone so naturally I chose to take a detour. This involved me receiving a jolt from an electric fence and squelching through boggy ground. Thank you Bully!

Up to Griffe Grange, through the woods then along to The Limestone Way footpath where farmers were making hay while the sun shone and then west to Longcliffe with yet more limestone works. Then back in an arc to Aldwark - which means "old fortification".

I love to walk in shorts and a T-shirt. Usually I don't even bother with a backpack but on Thursday I took a couple of bottles of water, sunglasses, a hat, a full size map of the Peak District and a banana with me. I forgot my canister of "Adrian" bull repellent - but of course remembered my trusty camera to bring you these passable summery photographs. Please click to enlarge:-
Countryside north of Aldwark
Farm ruin by Stunstead Lane
Farm ruin near Bonsall Lane
Butterfly and thistles near Ible
Making hay on Limestone Way
In Longcliffe. How much longer will our characterful red phone boxes
survive? This one isn't even re-painted any more. Damn those mobile phones!

16 July 2014


On Crosby Beach north of Liverpool there are a hundred iron men. They all look seawards and do not say a word. At Crosby, the beach is wide and when the tide is out it seems more like an estuary than a beach for it is situated at the point where the River Mersey meets the Irish Sea. It was here where the British sculptor Sir Antony Gormley found a home for his visionary art installation - "Another Place". The figures are strategically positioned along two sweeping kilometres of beach. Some are at the low tide mark while others are higher up the beach close to the coastal path which sits atop concrete marine defences. The men were placed here in 2006 and though at first the figures were iron clones - identical to each other - now they are changing. Some are corroding more than others, some stand high above the sand while others are waist deep in it. Some are covered in  barnacles while others have been "dressed" by passers by. It is an amazing artwork to behold and I am so pleased that on Monday morning the weather was kind for my observations. It is possible to place different "meanings" on these iron men, to interpret them but all the while they remain silent, looking seawards - perhaps to "Another Place". Seven more pictures from the hundred I took:-

15 July 2014


Over the hills to Liverpool to see Neil Young and Crazy Horse at The Echo Arena. This was on Sunday and even though I am not fond of these cavernous new indoor arenas, it was a great concert - the first one I have seen in a long while and the first time I had ever seen Neil Young. He is sixty eight years old now and of course famous for his plaintive song writing back in the nineteen seventies. But there's another side to him. He is a consummate lead guitarist and when playing his whole being seems connected to his guitar - at one with the music. Quite rightly, he is not a performer who has ever wanted to rest on his laurels - forever replaying the songs of yesteryear. He has evolved. This was his set list for the night:-
Love and Only Love 
Goin' Home 
Days That Used to Be 
After the Gold Rush 
Love to Burn 
Separate Ways 
Don't Cry No Tears 
Blowin' in the Wind (Bob Dylan cover)
Heart of Gold 
Barstool Blues 
Psychedelic Pill 
Rockin' in the Free World 
Who's Gonna Stand Up and Save the Earth 

Like A Hurricane
I stayed in the Travelodge by Brunswick Dock with a view across the Mersey to the Wirral Peninsula and in the morning I rose early to drive up to Crosby, specially to see Anthony Gormley's "Another Place" - but that's my next post... In the meantime here are more pictures I took at the Neil Young concert. It made me feel "young" again as I recalled the many concerts I would attend in my salad days...

12 July 2014


Out on the moors the other day, I followed a track which was defined by boundary stones. I believe they mark the western extremity of the metropolitan district of Sheffield though who would have sanctioned their placement I have no idea. I came across more than twenty of them in different states of repair - including the one below which was the only stone with letters carved upon it. Such lettering normally indicates ownership of moorland estates. Beyond this stone you can just make out Dale Dike Reservoir - source of The Great Sheffield Flood of 1864 and there's Boot's Folly to the right.
To the north, by a boggy area known as Running Moss, I noticed a gritstone outcrop so I made my way over there crossing several rivulets that cut through the peaty earth that blankets this landscape. The outcrop consists of several time-sculpted stones and as far as I can deduce it is unnamed. It is some distance from the nearest path or track and hard to reach - unless you happen to be a sheep.
I love places like this. To me these stones are better than manmade sculptures. They speak of the bedrock and of the centuries that have shaped them - wind and rain and frost - while empires rose and fell. These voiceless stones endure. Below, flimsy summery clouds try to imitate the solid rock shapes.
Back to the car which I had parked near Moscar House. I drove along Sugworth Road but stopped to take this shot of Boot's Folly - erected in 1927 simply to keep estate workers occupied during a time of economic depression:-
And then along Hoar Stones Road to this monument - built over a roadside spring in 1832 - in memory of a local child who drowned here. It is called the Edgefield Obelisk and it sits here in glorious isolation above Bradfield Dale.

11 July 2014


Joni today - at seventy
One of the best albums I ever owned was "Blue" by Joni Mitchell. In fact I owned it three times over - as a vinyl disc, as a tape cassette and as a CD. And I saw Joni in concert when she was twenty five. She was more than the archetypal singer-songwriter for there was a unique and tender poignancy about her lyrics. She was a poet or maybe a poetess.

One of the tracks on "Blue" is a typically oblique song called "Little Green". Here's how the song begins:-

Joni in 1970
Born with the moon in Cancer
Choose her a name she will answer to
Call her green and the winters cannot fade her
Call her green for the children who've made her
Little green, be a gypsy dancer

He went to California
Hearing that everything's warmer there
So you write him a letter and say "Her eyes are blue"
He sends you a poem and she's lost to you
Little green he's a non-conformer

Just a little green
Like the colour when the spring is born
There'll be crocuses to bring to school tomorrow
Just a little green
Like the nights when the Northern lights perform
There'll be icicles and birthday clothes

And sometimes there'll be sorrow

Only yesterday, thanks to a BBC Radio 4 programme, I discovered that this song was about a child that Joni gave up for adoption when she was nineteen and a destitute art student. She discovered she had become pregnant by her Calgary boyfriend. She said, "...he left me three months pregnant in an attic room with no money and winter coming on and only a fireplace for heat. The spindles of the banister were gap-toothed fuel for last winter's occupants.". That little girl - Kelly Dale Anderson - later to be renamed Kilauren Gibb - remained a secret throughout Joni's years of musical success but it seems that in the late nineties she finally re-established contact with this long lost daughter. And when they met in 1997, both women found their lives enriched as if discovering vital missing jigsaw pieces.

Joni Mitchell is seventy now. She has health issues - some are probably psychosomatic - and she is something of a recluse living in the Los Angeles hills in what has been described as a "Joni Mitchell museum". Always a gifted, original visual artist, she is surrounded by her art work into which she now applies most of her creative energy. Intellectually she lives on the edge, a highly strung chain smoker and combative too. It cannot be easy being Joni's daughter. It cannot be easy being the genius who is Joni Mitchell.