Couple of Swells

Return to Top Withins

We're a couple of swells

We stop at the best hotels

But we prefer the country far away from the city smells

So we'll walk up the Avenue

Yes, we'll walk up the Avenue

And we’ll walk up to Top Withins is what we’ll do…

It’s been a while, but as Covid-19 restrictions are lifted, a picnic on the moors above Haworth is a great place to blow away the cobwebs and drink in the Yorkshire air.

Rolling Away The Metaphorical Stone

And because we can gather in gardens again, Sally’s birthday was resurrected, this time with a sit-down meal beneath a canopy, under fairy lights, wrapped up warm, with nearest and dearest…. And communing in real life is so much better than cyberchatting. Pixels don’t do justice to the breathing souls of human beings. Online meetups are all very well, but my understanding of the art and science of communication is that pauses, interruptions, false starts, ellisions, facial expressions and eyebrow twitches are all essential to comprehension. Software doesn’t allow simultaneous argument or overlap so bring on LIVING people in REAL LIFE…

With all the frills upon it

The screen is certainly good, though, for treats like Judy Garland, Fred Astaire, Ann Miller and Peter Lawford walking down that Avenue with their Easter bonnets, watching out for that fella with his umbrella, shaking the blues away, being drum crazy, loving a piano and stepping out with my baby…. A further significant movie experience during the week building up to Easter included Scorsese’s exquisite film of The Age of Innocence with Daniel Day Lewis, Michelle Pfeiffer, Winona Ryder and Miriam Margolyes

“Ah, good conversation - there's nothing like it, is there? The air of ideas is the only air worth breathing.”

Spring Fighting With Winter

Blossoms are appearing, tulips are opening, daffodils are fluttering as they should. But the nights are still frosty and the weather is unpredictable. But I’ve been feeling the unexpected budding buds of a scintilla of desire to get back to some creative writing. Whether or not I will write creatively again feels a bit immaterial at the moment, given the efforts needed to “get through” the tail end of the pandemic crisis. I hope the world isn’t exactly the same as it was before. I expect to continue hiking through the trees, beside the streams, under the skies and planning…. planning for the next stages of the endemic-Covid world…

It was the Rainbow gave thee birth

Political change for the good of civilisation, skinny Prosecco, home-baked bread, cookies and parmesan biscuits - also good for civilisation!

Watching woods fill up with snow

In the past fortnight there has been “too much weather” – bright blue skies, dull dark skies, gales, rain bursts, floods, mud pools, mud slides and snow. “It must be beautiful this time of year – all that snow!” So, I here offer some images of the woods and meadow near me, blanketed in snow. I have posted before about Robert Frost’s famous poem about stopping by woods on a snowy evening. This year, during Lockdown 3.0, there has been plenty of time to stop and stare (copyright W H Davies) at the lighting effects on the snowy crystals on the bare branches

Photos by Emily

I also love a quiet place

On one walk a miracle occurred: across a pond, above some reeds, a blue streak caught our eyes. We stood still, stared and waited. And there it was – one of my life ambitions fulfilled – a kingfisher in the wild. And, yes, it fished. And flapped. And bobbed its head. And perched. And stood. And streaked down into the pond again and back again to settle on its vantage point. It kingfished. And haunted. The last verb is inspired by Supertramp poet, W H Davies, who I’ve mentioned and quoted before. His poem below about a kingfisher is one I learned in primary school and later used as a teacher with Year 7 classes because it efficiently illustrated the use of archaic vocabulary and syntax, repetition, half rhyme, alliteration, assonance, simile, metaphor, personification, onomatopoeia – and even more sophisticated poetic techniques – all in one lovely-sounding 18-line package.

The Kingfisher

by W H Davies

It was the Rainbow gave thee birth,

And left thee all her lovely hues;

And, as her mother’s name was Tears,

So runs it in my blood to choose

For haunts the lonely pools, and keep

In company with trees that weep.

Go you and, with such glorious hues,

Live with proud peacocks in green parks;

On lawns as smooth as shining glass,

Let every feather show its marks;

Get thee on boughs and clap thy wings

Before the windows of proud kings.

Nay, lovely Bird, thou art not vain;

Thou hast no proud, ambitious mind;

I also love a quiet place

That’s green, away from all mankind;

A lonely pool, and let a tree

Sigh with her bosom over me.

What I do is me: for that I came

On the day I saw the kingfisher I also thought of one of my obsessions – one of the most brilliant poets in the English language: a poet who led a fascinating life and wrought poems like a Christ-loving-pagan blacksmith hammering golden swords whilst wrestling with fiery demons in the tattered and billowing cloud of God’s abundant, undulating duvet…. Yes, he’s a hyperbolic wordsmith, that Gerard Manley Hopkins – what a guy! Any road up, he wrote a sonnet about all things expressing their own selves, being themselves, expressing themselves (What I do is me: for that I came) and although the second half of the sonnet gets profoundly religious, he starts with three ordinary sounds: a bell, a string on a musical instrument and a stone dropped down a well; as well as two startling sights: the flaming glimpse of a dragonfly and the fiery lick of a kingfisher.

Kingfisher, Dragonfly, Stone, String, Bell

As Kingfishers Catch Fire

by Gerard Manley Hopkins

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;

As tumbled over rim in roundy wells

Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell's

Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;

Each mortal thing does one thing and the same….

Each mortal thing does one thing and the same. Snow falls. Kingfishers fish. Poets distil. What I do is me: for that I came…. We are, as people say, human beings not human doings…. So stopping, standing and staring at snow on the bare branches of trees, or watching a kingfisher haunting a lonely pool, or pausing, breathing and resting – that kind of time-wasting is not time wasted. The time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time.

Three Households One Day

Three households….

…. All alike in dignity

In fair Saltaire where we lay our scene

In troubled times break to new jollity

Neath patio heaters, waiting for a vaccine….

Advent gives way to Christmas Eve.... Stocking One to Stocking TwentyFour…. Christmas is Go!

Tier Three Walks

Thankfully, walking in the open air is not yet prohibited so it is still a joy to tramp around the woods and dales and moors and fields of West Yorkshire on the days leading up to Christmas.

A mince pie in the forest, anyone?

I think, on average, I must have walked more miles in 2020 than in any previous year of my life. If I decide on any Resolutions in the New Year, I think it will be to Keep Walking amongst the local trees and alongside the canals and rivers and up and down the hills, mountains and dales of Yorkshire.

White Christmas Eve

A crisp and frosty (and at times blizzardy) walk on Christmas Eve above the town of Oxenhope brought Yorkshire horizons of every type: black pendulous clouds, misty snowscapes, bright blue expanses and boiling pink sunsets – the sky was as mad and varied as 2020 has been.

Al fresco

Although the latest rules allowed us to be inside on Christmas Day, bearing in mind Emily’s work in the NHS, we summoned our inner Carry On Campers with patio heaters and fairy lights to feast outside.

Penultimate post of 2020

My 50th post of the year will be on New Year’s Eve so between now and then I’ll scour my memory banks to see if there’s such a thing as a clear summary of the last year. I know we won’t be doing what we usually do on New Year’s Eve.…

Clear and simple

What’s true now – and it always has been and always will be – is that Connecting with loved ones is the most important human impulse of all…. whether that’s by card, letter, phone, text, a friendly wave, a doorstep chat, friendly small talk in the woods, WhatsApp, Email, Zoom, Skype, Teams – or, if you’re lucky, sitting down with others to share festive food and drink…. only connect.

Harlow Carr Glow

Haworth Moors followed by Stew and Dumplings....

Top Withins

A positive feature of 2020 (and God knows, we need to cherish positive aspects of 2020) is that I’ve walked more often than I’ve ever walked before – mostly locally through Northcliffe, Heaton and Hirst Woods but also along the Leeds-Liverpool canal and up onto the Shipley, Baildon, Ilkley and Haworth moors. I regularly reflect on how lucky I am to live in Saltaire with easy access to city, town and village facilities as well as the Yorkshire countryside. The pictures above will surprise no-one (in Europe or the USA) who knows me well enough to know that Top Withins and the Brontë falls are among my favourite locations. The view from Top Withins can be murky, misty, wild and atmospheric and it can also be inspiring, expansive, bright and uplifting. Sometimes all at once.

Refunds and postponements

West Yorkshire, like most of the rest of the Midlands and North, will be in “Tier 3” after Lockdown 2.0 ends next week. I hope in years to come I will re-read posts like this and wonder what Tier 3 meant and Covid-19 will be a distant memory of a bad couple of years that humanity overcame. Time will tell. (Yes, I know I overuse that phrase but then I like to view life historically….) So, refunds are (once again) coming in for theatre bookings, afternoon teas and travel plans. One thing that survived Lockdown 2.0 was an outdoor experience at the Royal Horticultural Society Garden in Harrogate: the Glow walk at Harlow Carr Gardens.

Glow

Harlow Carr is the most northerly RHS garden, originally part of the Forest of Knaresborough and then the Harlow Carr Botanical Gardens before the RHS absorbed the Northern Horticultural Society and took on the running of Harlow Carr. Glow is a simple idea. Lay a few thousand metres of cable and flood trees with colour….

Shades of Imagination

Highlights include a tunnel of light bulbs, reflections across the Queen Mother lake, newly built bridges, mini-waterfalls, willow sculptures of stags and, of course, the colours glowing in the cold night air: deep shades of blue, red, purple, pink and green embellishing the trunks, branches, bushes and leaves, revealing their natural, twisty (sometimes ancient) glory. It was also the occasion of my first mince pie in 2020…. December is just around the corner.

Return to Live Theatre

Krapp's Last Tape

Earlier this evening I had my first experience of live theatre since March via the one-way system, temperature checks and socially distanced seating at Leeds Playhouse…. It felt appropriate that the first play I saw since lockdown was by Samuel Beckett, the master of tragi-comic nihilism. Krapp's Last Tape takes place on a “late evening in the future” when Krapp reminisces about his earlier life, in particular an audio record he made 30 years ago on the spool of an old tape recorder and in the pages of a tatty ledger…. There but for the grace of God go I…. Niall Buggy played the banana-eating Krapp with a mixture of wistful vulnerability, frustrated rage and a poignant desire to interpret and make sense of his shifting, distorted memories. Was the past exactly what he remembered? Was his 39 year old self a truer version of Krapp than his 69 year old present self? Time to make one last tape.... Terrific performance of a thought-provoking monologue.

Orpheus in the Record Shop

In the second piece, rapper Testament  (a William Blake fan, so he's OK by me!) fused beatboxing, myth and poetry to present a tale of love lost, dreams dreamt and future journeys imagined with help from pianist and composer Taz Modi and nine live musicians from the orchestra of Opera North. The 75-minute tour-de-force showcased Testament's human beatboxing talents with a huge variety of sounds blended into the overwhelming soundscape of the classical instruments gradually introduced by Opera North, including a soaring female singer  The stage space of the Quarry Theatre was used spectacularly with atmospheric lighting but my long-term memories of this piece will probably be less technical than personal. During Testament's monologue he conjured a cast of characters that came in and out of his record shop - there were many identifiable laughs on the joys and pretensions of vinyl, record collectors, music tastes and the precarious existence of trying to run a retail business with love but little economic sense! Of all the characters weaving in and out of the narrative the dominant presence (though painfully absent) was Orpheus's own Eurydice, in this case named Justine. Though the story, whilst funny, was often tear-jerking, there was a depth charge of hope at the end. Music is everywhere. Love is everywhere. And it was a great thrill for me, at Leeds Playhouse, that twice one evening in October 2020, I sat again in a live audience, the anticipation was immense and the house lights dimmed to darkness before launching Krapp's Last Tape and Orpheus in the Record Shop. (Back next week for La Voix Humaine.)

 

Loving Vincent

What is done in love

It is good to love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is well done. (Vincent Van Gogh)

York St Mary’s

The life, letters and artworks of Vincent Van Gogh were the subject of an “Immersive Experience” at York St Mary’s Church not far from the Jorkvik Centre. The exhibition arrived in York on its world tour from Naples and Brussels and will next touch down in Leicester. As well as digital projections, animations, lights, displays and audio components, there was a Virtual Reality experience which gave an impression of walking through the streets of Arles seeing inspirations for paintings: the wheat fields, the meadow, the forest, the village, Vincent’s room and a starry night over the Rhône River.

Seeing the stars

I don't know anything with certainty, but seeing the stars makes me dream. (Vincent Van Gogh)

Life in brief

Van Gogh was born in March 1853 in the Dutch village of Groot-Zundert and worked as an art dealer before taking up painting in his twenties. He produced over 2,000 artworks including around 850 oil paintings. He died in the French village of Auvers-sur-Oise in July 1890, two days after receiving a gunshot wound to the abdomen.

Death may not be the most difficult thing

In the life of the painter, death may perhaps not be the most difficult thing. For myself, I declare I don't know anything about it. But the sight of the stars always makes me dream. Why I say to myself should those spots of light in the firmament be inaccessible to us? (Vincent Van Gogh)

Letter writer and artistic philosopher

An exploration of Van Gogh is enriched by reading the letters he wrote, many to his younger brother, Theo. In the letters he often commented on his own work, his ideas about colour and materials, art in general, his personal situation and his own life.

Life’s treasures

Close friends are truly life's treasures. Sometimes they know us better than we know ourselves. With gentle honesty, they are there to guide and support us, to share our laughter and our tears. Their presence reminds us that we are never really alone. (Vincent Van Gogh)

Nature’s resistance

Nature always begins by resisting the artist, but he who takes it seriously will not be put off by that opposition. (Vincent Van Gogh)

The language of colour

Colour itself speaks its own language, you cannot live without it. (Vincent Van Gogh)

Pure harmony and music

What am I in the eyes of most people — a nonentity, an eccentric, or an unpleasant person — somebody who has no position in society and will never have; in short, the lowest of the low. All right, then — even if that were absolutely true, then I should one day like to show by my work what such an eccentric, such a nobody, has in his heart. That is my ambition, based less on resentment than on love in spite of everything, based more on a feeling of serenity than on passion. Though I am often in the depths of misery, there is still calmness, pure harmony and music inside me. I see paintings or drawings in the poorest cottages, in the dirtiest corners. And my mind is driven towards these things with an irresistible momentum. (Vincent Van Gogh)

Loving Vincent

In 2017, the world’s first fully painted animated feature, Loving Vincent, gave a fictionalised account of a conflicting story about the death of Van Gogh in July 1890. He certainly died of a gunshot wound but why the wound was not treated in a hospital and whether or not it was self-inflicted, or a grotesque accident, are mysteries that are unlikely to ever be solved and which the film explores using words of all the main protagonists. 

Courage

What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything? (Vincent Van Gogh)

Painting dreams

I dream of painting and then I paint my dream. (Vincent Van Gogh)

Around the World at Christmas

Around the World

The world is a big place – and in some ways a small place – and a marvellously diverse place. As I’ve said before, home is where the heart is. By the end of 2020 the UK will have “Brexited” whatever that might mean, deal or no deal, with full sovereignty or, more likely, the illusion of sovereignty. The rich of England will continue to get rich, whoever pulls the invisible purse strings. In the meantime, one pair who I usually spend time with in the Festive season went off to Europe on a train (see central image above – Amy and Maggie on a sledge not a train at that point.)  This past Christmas season, home was Badby, home was Saltaire and home was Around the World in Christmas-themed displays at Chatsworth House….

“I think I might be different, I might not be the same.”

Michael cooked up a feast or two in Badby (and Janet and Alex turned their hands to a gingerbread house.) This year’s Royal Shakespeare Company Christmas show was only tenuously Christmassy, but it had a very witty set, enthusiastic performers and very jolly songs, though one (If I don’t cry) made my eyes moist…. David Walliams’s The Boy in the Dress has been adapted by Mark Ravenhill with songs by Robbie Williams, Guy Chambers and Chris Heath. The main character, Dennis, sings of being Ordinary but by the end he is anything but – he’s extraordinary – and the message, I thought, was all about the intrinsic value of individual differences – an apt reminder in this most divided of eras. 

Sparkle round the globe

The differences between Morocco, China, Japan, India, Portugal, Italy and America were celebrated in exuberant style at Chatsworth House in Derbyshire this year. Some of the differences were artistic and involved traditional (stereotyped?) imagery but some of the displays were harder to spot: Venetian masks, the Russian dolls on the huge Christmas tree in the Painted Hall, and the Nativity scene in the baroque Portuguese-inspired chapel.

“It’s really useful to travel, if you want to see new things.” (Jules Verne in Around the World in Eighty Days)

Quirky nods to fictional traveller Phileas Fogg and historical aviator Amelia Earhart guided you through imaginatively lit rooms containing hidden and not-so-hidden delights, like the Chinese lanterns and paper dragons. Floating candles hovered around the Nativity in the Chapel, warding away Damien Hirst’s Exquisite Pain statue of Saint Bartholomew.

Cherry Blossom

Probably my favourite display was in the Japanese-themed room, partly because it was a potent reminder of Spring in the dark days of Winter.

Hokusai’s Great Wave off Kanagawa

A calligraphy desk, paper fans and more blossoms framed 3d art work reminiscent of Hokusai’s Nineteenth Century woodblock print Kanagawa-oki Nami Ura.

Effortless glory

Staff at Chatsworth apparently unite from the middle of Summer onwards to prepare for the Christmas displays and it certainly impresses with thousands of baubles, wreaths, swags and greenery. I particularly like the charming homemade smaller items that appear when you have time to stop and stare.

Decking the Hall

It’s impossible to walk around grand Christmas decorations without Christmas carols ear-worming into your subconscious and I was amused to read about the two variations of Deck the Halls 

Deck the hall with boughs of holly,

Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!

'Tis the season to be jolly, (Fa….!)

Fill the meadcup, drain the barrel, (Fa….!)

Troll the ancient Christmas carol (Fa….!)

See the flowing bowl before us, (Fa….!)

Strike the harp and join the chorus. (Fa….!)

Follow me in merry measure, (Fa….!)

While I sing of beauty's treasure. (Fa….!)

Fast away the old year passes, (Fa….!)

Hail the new, ye lads and lasses! (Fa….!)

Laughing, quaffing all together, (Fa….!)

Heedless of the wind and weather. (Fa….!)

Censorship of meadcup, barrel, bowl and quaffing

The tune may well go back to medieval times and the original lyrics were in Welsh, with the variation above appearing in 1862, the lyrics being attributed to Scottish musician, Thomas Oliphant. In Chatsworth’s gift shop I learned that the Pennsylvania School Journal attempted to rewrite the lyrics changing all the references to getting drunk:

Deck the hall with boughs of holly,

'Tis the season to be jolly,

Don we now our gay apparel,

Troll the ancient Christmas carol,

See the blazing yule before us,

Strike the harp and join the chorus.

Follow me in merry measure,

While I tell of Christmas treasure.

Fast away the old year passes,

Hail the new, ye lads and lasses!

Sing we joyous all together,

Heedless of the wind and weather.

Soft bosoms

Even the quaffing version of Deck The Halls is a dilution of the Seventeenth Century version which celebrates bosoms and blisses and kisses – and why not? It’s Christmas, after all.

Oh! How soft my fair one’s bosom 

Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!

Oh! How sweet the grove in blossom (Fa….!)

Oh! How blessed are the blisses (Fa….!)

Words of love, and mutual kisses

Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!