Stand by me

2020 (top two) and times gone by (bottom three)

Baby Harriet Rose
And so, in the middle of a gradually-relaxing Pandemic Lockdown, it was time to celebrate the birthday of the adult daughter formerly known as Baby Harriet. And there is much to celebrate in this unsettling period of history. For a start, we’re all alive. So what to do to celebrate a birthday in June 2020?

Tramping in Wharfedale
Less industrial than Airedale, not as dramatic as Malhamdale, Wharfedale is a lovely place to walk. And so we did. The dale was formed in the last ice age, and named from the Old Norse Hverf that became the Old English Weorf, both meaning winding river. Small settlements date back to Neolithic times, working farms have been established for generations and local people and tourists alike have tramped meandering paths across the moorland countryside. Above Burley in Wharfedale we climbed up the side of the valley to enjoy cows, sheep, fields, meadows, scrubby bushes, wild foxgloves, streams, rivulets, stiles and views…. Oh, the views.

5,000 miles
We managed around 6 miles up and down, along and beyond. The 5,000 miles in the sub-heading refers to the estimated length of all the dry stone walls in Yorkshire. You can’t beat the sight of a dry stone wall: such a familiar sight, so welcome and reassuring when returning from elsewhere in the world to "God’s Own County."

Birthday 2020 and "at home" at Versailles

Picnic and Prashad
Sitting on big rocks somewhere high we revelled in a picnic with fizz (is there anything better than eating and drinking in the open air?) And later, socially distancing in the garden, we had a Gujerati Indian takeaway from the excellent Prashad in Drighlington. The main glory was being together, being healthy, reminiscing, looking forward, blowing away the cobwebs during the day and putting the world to rights as the sun set.

2020 feast from Prashad and snapshots from America, France and Italy

Stand by me
Songwriters: Jerry Lieber, Mike Stoller, Ben King
When the night has come
And the land is dark
And the moon is the only light we'll see
No I won't be afraid
Oh, I won't be afraid
Just as long as you stand, stand by me
So darling, darling
Stand by me, oh stand by me
Oh stand, stand by me
Stand by me
If the sky that we look upon
Should tumble and fall
Or the mountain should crumble to the sea
I won't cry, I won't cry
No, I won't shed a tear
Just as long as you stand, stand by me

Nothing is so beautiful as Spring

23rd March
Today always prompts reflection. It’s my Mum’s birthday – 23rd March – born in 1926. My memories of Annie Elizabeth Veronica Johnson (née Penn) usually centre on her devotion to me and my siblings, her sense of humour and her generous spirit of curiosity. My regular mind’s-eye-image of her is sitting on the rug in front of the fire, leaning on the cushion of an armchair, reading a historical novel or family saga. I always think it’s fitting that her birthday arrives soon after the official arrival of Spring with sunlight increasing, buds beginning to burst, lambs taking their first jerky steps around the Yorkshire fields and an atmosphere of rebirth, renewal, resurrection and regrowth. Happy Birthday, Mum!

What is all this juice and all this joy?
Sally’s birthday is less than a week before my Mum’s birthday. Having safely returned from the Trans-Siberian express with remarkable memories, I imagine this year felt extra-comforting to receive cards, flowers, books, toiletries and promises of future “experiences” involving chocolate and wine. Spring promises sun, promises the explosion of nature, promises more walks in the countryside. Winter is behind for a time. Spring feels to be earlier this year than last. To conclude I’ve copied below a Gerard Manley Hopkins sonnet about Spring, not an easy poem but a great one if you let the sounds enter your soul. He’s a peculiar poet with his sprung rhythm and exclamatory phrases that bounce into your brain without being grammatically attached to anything else. Time to spring into Spring.

Spring by G M Hopkins

Nothing is so beautiful as Spring –
    When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;
    Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush
Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring
The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;
    The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush
    The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush
With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling.

What is all this juice and all this joy?
    A strain of the earth’s sweet being in the beginning
In Eden garden. – Have, get, before it cloy,
    Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning,
Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy,
    Most, O maid’s child, thy choice and worthy the winning.

The Champagne Murders

Previously in Murder Mystery Manors there were

• The Monte-Carlo Murders in Paris 1950
• Death by Chocolate in Paris 1900
• Stiffed at the Speakeasy in Chicago 1920
• The Red-Rose Murders in Hollywood 1950

Groovy, baby
Now it’s swinging London in 1967. The great and the good (and at least one not-so-good) gather for the weekend in hip and happening London. Chelsea, to be precise. At the sumptuous home of Lord Michael Jagged, full-lipped rock god.

Who were the fashionable guests?
• Tamara Fara-Bucktooth, famous for being famous, always partying with the stars. No gossip column is complete without her. So why isn’t she weeping? She was the girlfriend of the poor dead rock star, after all. Is it true she has been written into Lord Jagged’s will – but only very recently….?
• Mary-Jane Faithless, ex-girlfriend of Lord Jagged, energetic and charismatic, now a top songbird in her own right, smashing the hearts of fans throughout the world. Is it true that her mother was a Russian countess and her father was a French fisherman? Or is she really from Yorkshire?
• Kitty Killer, celebrated and glamorous journalist, often outshining the celebrities she writes about. Are the rumours true that she is a secret agent? Or that she has contacts with the London Underworld? Is she good or bad? And what about the no-holds-barred biography of Lord Jagged – fake news or true?

Dangerous pair
• “Champagne” Charlie Bunsun, thug or business-man, pussycat or ravenous tiger? Feared throughout London’s East End, his police record is squeaky clean, so maybe he is a good guy after all. It’s not his fault that many of his past employers are currently doing time. Why was Lord Jagged trying to break connections with old “Champagne” Charlie?
• Babs Crayfish, “Champagne” Charlie’s girlfriend but also famous for her acting skills – acting up and acting down, she’ll act anyone at anytime, anyhow and anywhere. Did she believe that Lord Jagged meant it when he promised her he could make her a film star through his film company? Did she confide her feelings to her newly-acquired therapist, Dr Doktor?

The photographer, the critic and the actor
• Terence Shrimp, dedicated follower of every trend known to fashionistas throughout the capital city. Terence is society’s favourite photographer, pointing his lens where other snappers fear to go. A bit of a hell-raiser in his past, going on the lash with top actors like Oliver Steed and the pals of “Champagne” Charlie. Rumour has it that he’s started an affair with one of the women at tonight’s party….?
• Bryony Sewer, wine-critic and snob, not necessarily in that order. Bryony is sneering and sometimes downright rude but it’s fair to say that she knows her pinot from her plonk. She writes for The Evening Times, the fancy newspaper owned by Lord Jagged but the rumour is that she has just been sacked. Other journalists have delved into her past but return none-the-wiser, smelling only an elusive bouquet, as Bryony would say.
• Oliver Steed, large and loud, a drunken, womanising actor, known for alcohol-crazed crawls through the pubs and clubs of the East End, often with Terence Shrimp, and often ending in bar-room brawls that nobody remembers. He used to work for “Champagne” Charlie as a “bouncer” (they say) and his attempts to break into Hollywood faltered when the American mafia recognised his past misdemeanours.

So where is Lord Michael Jagged?
Surely that’s not him, lying dead in his room? Is the champagne bottle by his side a clue to method, motive or opportunity? Or was he just getting pissed before falling over on his stacked heels and flared trousers? Surely none of the guests at tonight’s dinner party would have committed murder? And surely they wouldn’t waste the food and drink on offer, even if their host is now deceased? Tuck in, one and all, and enjoy the sounds of the 60’s.

The day after the night before
The day after the night before, in disguise, the dinner party decamped to Bolton Abbey in Yorkshire to walk along to the swollen Strid to come to terms with the traumas of what had happened. If anyone was guilty, no-one was talking about it. If the police did make an arrest, then the guilty party was clearly acting nonchalant whilst out on bail. Innocent until proven guilty in a court of law, after all. Luckily no-one was pushed into the Strid or thrown into the marshmallow pit. Time will tell if a conviction takes place. Lord Michael Jagged will never be forgotten.

Dance for me

The art world responds to the story of the dancing princess

Playwright in prison
On 11th February 1896, at the Comédie-Parisienne in Paris, Oscar Wilde’s play of the Biblical story of Salomé received its premiere. Rehearsals for an earlier production had begun in 1892 starring the famous celebrity actress, Sarah Bernhardt, but the London production was banned, supposedly because the Lord Chamberlain (the censor of the day) decided that it was blasphemous to portray Biblical characters on the stage. By the time the play was staged in Paris, Wilde had been imprisoned as a result of a series of tragic miscalculations and the fervid homophobia of late Victorian Establishment.

Aubrey Beardsley's original illustrations include Wilde in the moon (top right)

What the Bible says (Mark Ch 6: 14 – 28)

John the Baptist has been raised from the dead, and that is why miraculous powers are at work in him.”
15 Others said, “He is Elijah.” And still others claimed, “He is a prophet, like one of the prophets of long ago.”
16 But when Herod heard this, he said, “John, whom I beheaded, has been raised from the dead!”
17 For Herod himself had given orders to have John arrested, and he had him bound and put in prison. He did this because of Herodias, his brother Philip’s wife, whom he had married.
18 For John had been saying to Herod, “It is not lawful for you to have your brother’s wife.”
19 So Herodias nursed a grudge against John and wanted to kill him. But she was not able to,
20 because Herod feared John and protected him, knowing him to be a righteous and holy man. When Herod heard John, he was greatly puzzled; yet he liked to listen to him.
21 Finally the opportune time came. On his birthday Herod gave a banquet for his high officials and military commanders and the leading men of Galilee.
22 When the daughter of Herodias came in and danced, she pleased Herod and his dinner guests. The king said to the girl, “Ask me for anything you want, and I’ll give it to you.”
23 And he promised her with an oath, “Whatever you ask I will give you, up to half my kingdom.”
24 She went out and said to her mother, “What shall I ask for?” “The head of John the Baptist,” she answered.
25 At once the girl hurried in to the king with the request: “I want you to give me right now the head of John the Baptist on a platter.”
26 The king was greatly distressed, but because of his oaths and his dinner guests, he did not want to refuse her. 27 So he immediately sent an executioner with orders to bring John’s head. The man went, beheaded John in the prison,
28 and brought back his head on a platter. He presented it to the girl, and she gave it to her mother.

Images copyright RSC taken by Isaac James. Actors: Matthew Tennyson, Ilan Evans, Jon Tranchard, Christopher Middleton, Simon Yadoo, Bally Gill, Johnson Willis, Assad Saman, Andro Cowperthwaite, Ben Hall

Influences and imaginative transformation
In crafting the play, Wilde:

• takes the text (above) from the Gospel of Mark and the shorter version in Matthew’s Gospel;
• considers the many classical paintings of the scene by da Vinci, Moreau, Rubens and Titian among others (rejecting some and admiring others);
• and, like Shakespeare, steals phrases and rhythms from a number of other writings (Scheffauer, J C Heywood, Flaubert, Huysmans, Maeterlinck) and even
• his own brother, Wiliam Wilde, who wrote a poem about Salomé in Trinity College magazine, in 1878.

What he does, though, is transform the story into something strange and ritualistic. The language is fluid and poetic, hypnotic and surprising. Salomé, in Wilde’s play, isn’t persuaded by her mother to demand the head of Iokanaan (John the Baptist), (as occurs in the Bible) but makes her own decision to do so and is explicit in Wilde’s play that she hasn’t consulted her mother. Thus Wilde’s Salomé is breaking free, growing up, upsetting authority, dancing on her own terms….

Isaac James photographs. Actors: Assad Zaman, Matthew Tennyson, Gavin Fowler, Suzanne Burden and Company

Owen Horsley’s production
It at first glance seems perverse to give a female role to a male actor in a 2017 Roman plays season at the RSC, given the few numbers of (textually) female roles available in Antony and Cleopatra, Coriolanus, Julius Caesar and Titus Andronicus. But the decision absolutely works in the context of the rest of the production’s design and, in my opinion, gave Wilde’s play a frisson of repressed/unrequited/ambiguous/burgeoning love and sexuality that was wonderfully apt in this year of the 50th anniversary of the partial decriminalisation of gay (male) sex. Matthew Tennyson played Salomé with delicately eye-popping rage; he alternated between naïve expressions of desire, determined ferocity and intricate vulnerability. Standing up to his dementedly incestuous stepfather, Herod, played with lascivious cowardly torment by Matthew Pidgeon, Salomé was a heroic and tragic figure who struggled to know how to express her/his love. Circling them both was the accusatory Herodias played by Suzanne Burden with flamboyant gusto (often appealing to the audience directly and inviting us to judge what we were seeing.)

Isaac James photographs. Actors: Ilan Evans, Matthew Tennyson, Gavin Fowler, Matthew Pidgeon, Ben Hall, Bally Gill, Jon Trenchard, Christopher Middleton, Miles Mitchell, Andro Cowperthwaite, Robert Ginty, Byron Mondahl, Johnson Willis, Simon Yadoo

Total theatre
The moon hung over this beautifully-lit and evocatively-costumed production, literally and imaginatively as the Roman soldiers, the Jewish and non-Jewish revellers and the Roman ambassador were all mystified about how to respond to both the dancing princess and the muscular prophet, Iokanaan (John the Baptist played by Gavin Fowler), emerging from his cistern beneath the stage smeared in dirt and booming out his intense warnings. The executioner, played by Ilan Evans, got to belt out the songs of Perfume Genius, an artist I didn’t know before this production but whose anthemic, heavily-percussive music seemed to fit the awesome, longing, desperate, romantic atmosphere of this theatrical presentation of the pangs of transgressive love.

Variations of the play: film, opera, Berkoff's adaptation

Monte-Carlo Murders

First there was 1950s Paris;

Then there was 1920s Chicago;

Then there was 1900 Paris;
Now it’s 1950s Monte Carlo
The palace of Prince Reynard on a very specific date: the evening of 12th May 1951. As Europe recovers from the horrors of the Second World War, perhaps one more death shouldn’t amount to a hill of beans. But when the corpse of Roxy Foxx, actress, is discovered on a private beach in Monte Carlo, the international jet set are bound to gossip.

Exclusive beach
The body is found on a beach that can only be reached through the palace of Prince Reynard. Who are the guests on the night of the murder? And can the host be trusted?

Suspicious dinner guests

• Prince Reynard – the most eligible bachelor in Europe, but what is he doing being engaged to his cousin?
• Princess Peacock– a distant cousin of Prince Reynard and the last survivor of an obscure branch of Bavarian royalty, and what did you do in the war, Princess?
• Amy Jackson – the celebrated female pilot who flew missions for the RAF during the war, and, yes, that is a two-seater plane she arrived in, folks - but who did she bring?
• Colonel Jock Strapp – a distinguished Scottish veteran (well-travelled, accounting for his unstable wandering accent) who won a Victoria Cross on D-Day but never returned to Britain - and why not?

From the sporting and film industries

• Bobbie Driver – the unofficial women’s world champion golfer who is trying to break into movies, but where are her balls and are they made of chocolate?
• Alfred Higginbottom – an English film director, currently the most powerful man in Hollywood; did he know the dead starlet, and was she going to star in his next film?
• Cassandra – a newly-famous film star accompanying the director as they seek movie locations; she's soon to be in a sequel to the smash-hit film that starred Roxy Foxx!
• Lady Lummy – one of the best-known, with-it, hip&happening, dance-band leaders in America, currently hipstering around Europe on tour; she introduced a famous detective into the midst and guided the house party through the clues....

Who Murdered Roxy Foxx?

The sumptuous menu did nothing to alleviate the tension as clue after clue, drink after drink, accusation after accusation and revelation after sordid revelation discombobulated the assembled celebrities.  Inspector Hercule McClue did unmask a Prime Suspect by the end of the evening but the forthcoming trial means it is not possible to reveal who will stand in the dock….

Death by Chocolate

First there was Who Murdered Rick Toad

Then there was Stiffed at the Speakeasy

Now, it is 1900 Paris*

*otherwise known as New Year’s Eve 2016 Shipley….
The very upmarket Parisian hotel, Hotel Paradiso, is full. Millions of visitors are arriving for the opening of the International Exposition.

Celebrity Visitors include

Monsieur ‘Chocolate’ Bertrand – the leading Belgian chocolate manufacturer
Marchioness Duchamp – a notorious avant-garde artist
Dr Doris Johnson – an eccentric amateur archaologist
Maria von Schnapps – a young and important figure in the chocolate industry
Dame Barbara Carthorse – an English romantic novelist
Dr Sigmundia Fraud – the controversial Viennese psychologist
Mike Bison – an American boxer from New York

An EXPLOSION!

An explosion rocks the peace of the hotel. The foremost chocolate manufacturer from America, Mr Billy Bonka, has been found in the ruins and rubble of his hotel room. Who delivered the exploding chocolate to his room? How involved were the guests with the mysterious Billy Bonka? Who could have the motive and means to enact such a dastardly deed? Did Detective Hercule McClue solve the Mystery of the Death of Billy Bonka? Discretion prevents this blog from revealing the guilty party!

Dr Doris Johnson proffers a marshmallow to the chocolate fountain - is it a clue?

Barcelona

Wonderful friends, wonderful time

Barcelona is full of wonders. On a recent trip I went with Sally, Nick and Graeme. I was lucky enough to visit about ten years ago one New Year’s Eve when Spaniards smashed many a bottle around us on La Rambla as we stuffed grapes in our mouths (all in traditional celebration of course) and drank Sangria (we meaning Sally, Emily, Harriet, Sue, Brian and me.) On that occasion Sue and Brian (moored in the docks there) wanted to show us the Magic Fountains but they were turned off for the night so on our return visit last month, the fountains were on the to-do list.

Magic Fountains of Montjuïc

Retirement joys

I don’t think I will ever underestimate travelling during school term time. It is a privilege and feels a bit illegal and I can’t be the only retired teacher to feel so. Our holiday base overlooked the hill of Tibidabo with its retro fairground and the spires of Temple Expiatori del Sagrat Cor. Sally, Graeme, Nick and I stayed in a stylish AirBnB apartment with a terrace for continental breakfast and evening beer. Thank you, gracious hostess, Anna.

Blowing the cobwebs away

I probably over-use the phrase “blowing the cobwebs away” but it’s an image that works for me. Disrupting routine and walking somewhere surprising is a great way to look back, be in the present and look forward.

Docks of Barcelona

Tourist times

On the first afternoon we did an orientating bus tour round the eastern part of the city and admired the sea front, the gothic quarter, the bold architecture and the brash, youthful city centre. Plenty of people-watching even though my pics are all of buildings and scenery (discretion, you know.)

Tapas

Eating and drinking was on the itinerary, of course, and tapas was the order of the day most days, though there were some fish dishes that were as tasty as any I’ve known.

Gaudí

Antoni Gaudí i Cornet’s work dominates the visual side of the city, although there are plenty of other bold and successful architectural statements. Gaudí’s work is so very distinctive. I love his references to the natural world, his use of colour, ceramics, stained glass, ironwork and swirling, pouring materials.

La Sagrada Família

If I’m alive in 10 to 20 years time it would be great to come back and visit the (hopefully by then) finished basilica of the Holy Family. It’s hard to take it all in – the soaring vaults, the fluted columns, the remarkable colours, the mix of straight lines with spheres, fruit, foliage and animals, the sense that the whole building is dripping upwards.

Miracle of design, engineering and building

Visiting a cathedral in the final years of its building is a mind-bending experience. I found myself thinking about the visitors who saw the laying of the foundation stone in 1882; and the visitors 500 years in the future who will wonder how long it took to build.

The Quarry

Equally impressive was La Pedrera (The Quarry) or, officially, Casa Milà, named because of the couple who commissioned it: Pere Milà i Camps and his wife Roser Segimon i Artells. The astonishing outside and inside contains algae-coloured designs, curves, waves, balconies from fairy tales, ergonomic door knobs, fancy lintels, suggestions of bone and an attic space that feels like the skeleton of a snake.

The garden of warriors

The undulating roof with its primitive steps, warrior chimneys, skylights, tiles and embedded broken champagne bottles is a magical space and it was hard to leave the aeriel wonderland.

MACBA

The Barcelona Museum of Contemporary Art is an austere white temple to performance and abstract art. There was a fascinating exhibition of 100 candid photographs by Hans-Peter Feldmann showing black and white portraits of different individuals (twins in one case) at each age, from 8 weeks to 100 years old. Some looked to have secrets; all had stories to tell. One exhibit involved putting two ice cubes (one sweet, one salty) in your mouth and walking into a gigantic wooden cylindrical tunnel whilst a fan blows you from the other end…. Very contemporary….

Nudity beneath the snowstorm

The Cathedral of the Holy Cross and Saint Eulalia (aka Barcelona’s Gothic Cathedral) was a total surprise. The remains of St Eulalia are grandly presented in an ostentatious crypt, the least the Catholic church could do for someone who the Romans stripped in public but then, were so angry when a miraculous snowfall obscured her naked body, that they pushed her into a barrel, stuck knives through it and rolled it down the street now known as Baixada de Santa Eulàlia. Just to be sure she was fully violated poor St Eulalia was then decapitated, but, to the Romans’ surprise, a white dove flew out of her gushing neck! If all that truly happened then she deserves the magnificent cathedral that has now been raised in memory of her martyrdom. I’m not sure I entirely understood why geese were occupying the cloisters, but the Roman Catholic church is full of surprises....

Two pieces of music

Like Paris or Rome, I hope to revisit Barcelona one day. Two pieces of music have been playing in a loop round my brain since returning: one is Ismael Lô’s Tajabone from the score of Pedro Almodóvar’s film All About My Mother (a transition point in the film when the story moves to Barcelona) and the other is the theme from the Barcelona Olympics sung by Freddie Mercury and Montserrat Caballé. You can hear the first one HERE and the second one HERE.

Lyrics for Barcelona (by Freddie Mercury and Mike Moran)

Barcelona – Viva (Barcelona – Live!)

I had this perfect dream
    Un sueño me envolvió (A dream enveloped me)
This dream was me and you
    Tal vez estás aquí (Perhaps you are here)
I want all the world to see
    Un instinto me guiaba (An instinct guided me)
A miracle sensation
My guide and inspiration
Now my dream is slowly coming true

The wind is a gentle breeze
    Él me habló de ti (He told me about you)
The bells are ringing out
    El canto vuela (The song flies forth)
They're calling us together
Guiding us forever
Wish my dream would never go away

Barcelona - It was the first time that we met
Barcelona - How can I forget
The moment that you stepped into the room you took my breath away
Barcelona - La musica vibró (The music vibrated)
Barcelona - Y ella nos unió (And she joined us)
And if God willing we will meet again, someday

Let the songs begin
    Déjalo nacer (Let it be born)
Let the music play
Make the voices sing
    Nace un gran amor (Born a great love)
Start the celebration
    Ven a mi (Come to me)
And cry
    Grita (Cry out)
Come alive
    Vive (Come alive)
And shake the foundations from the skies
Shaking all our lives

Barcelona - Such a beautiful horizon
Barcelona - Like a jewel in the sun
    Por ti seré gaviota de tu bella mar (For you I will be your beautiful sea gull)
Barcelona - Suenan las campanas (Bells ring)
Barcelona - Abre tus puertas al mundo (Open your doors to the world)
If God is willing
If God is willing
If God is willing
Friends until the end
Viva Barcelona (Live Barcelona)

What A Difference A Year Makes

Fragility of health

In January 2004 I had a mini-wake-up heart attack.  A million and more historical events prove to us that a heart-beat of time can change lives, from freak accidents to man-made evil crimes (in peace and war), to unexpected natural disasters or virulent diseases.  But, more mundanely and frequently, the wear and tear of modern life on one’s own body and mind can contribute to life-changing reassessments of priorities.  My own parents and my mother-in-law died over relatively short periods (see blog below.)  Ray my father-in-law’s long slow decline from Alzheimer’s was not an ending anyone would hope for.

Questions, questions

Should I have worked less hard during my career?  Would that have prevented my heart attack in 2004?  Should I have changed my working life more profoundly after the heart attack in order to reflect what I knew about my unhealthy working habits?  

Giving Attention  

All the above questions are of course pointless.  Pointless, I tell you.  The past is a country you cannot revisit; only the present and future can command attention.  And thus, in my newly-retired and philosophical state, I look back on the maelstrom of Christmas 2013 and thank goodness for the impending arrival of 2015.  I’m looking forward to Giving Attention to things I want to give attention to.

So Goodbye to the elements of 2014 – in an order that makes sense to me….

Kitchen transformed....

Game of Life, Dorking/Dorking Halls, Old Tiles,

Hello Dorking.... Farewell Dorking....

Polesden Lacey, Blake Ward, Elgar Ward, Retirement, Box Tree Dinner, Bistro Pierre, Farewell Raymondo, Top Withins, Zaara’s, Ghosts, Johnson Over Jordan, Wolf Hall, Bring Up The Bodies, King Lear, The Likes of Us,

Hailsham, Pevensey Castle, Battle, Sissinghurst, Monks House, Chawton, Paris, Denbie’s, Pericles, University Reunion, Goodbye Work, Recipes, Cooking, Menus, Walking, Northcliffe, Hirst Woods, Canal, Salt’s Mill, Macmillan Cancer Support, Kerry Madden-Lunsford and Norah, the Bronte Parsonage,

The Lancelot-Barr Crew and The Unicorn's Ruin at Saltaire Festival...

Lancelots, Brown-Shelton, Thompsons, Tuffnells, Hickey-Howsons, Boyhood (my film of the year), Houses, Gardens and Abbeys, Hampton Court, Kew Gardens, Wandsworth Common, Tower of London, Wicked, North-South Divide, Margaret Atwood, Owen Jones, Flaxby and RR Donnelly.

Images of New Year's Eve at Bolton Abbey

Many of the above elements will return

More Shakespeare, of course.  And blogging and starting to learn how Facebook works....  Many of the above elements will return and a welcome return they will be.  Family, friends and beautiful places – may there be many more of those memories.  But there are a few nuggets amongst the list that I hope will never return…. Here’s to 2015!

Happy New Year One And All