Enter Sam

Welcome to the world, Sam

Filling dreams
And so, something unique happened this last week – unique to me, but an astonishingly common occurrence throughout history and across the world. But this thing has never happened to me before. I took on a new identity –  Grandfather/Grandad/Grandpa/Poppa/some other word – when a new member of my family arrived. I’m assuming Sam – for that is he – will decide what to call me at some point in the next few years. Sam is a lucky little guy arriving in a loving family in a lovely (new) home in a lovely corner of Planet Earth near shops, woods, a meadow, railways (big and miniature), a canal, a river, a valley, hills and dales and enough sky, clouds and wuthering weather to fill his dreams.

Arriving home

At first the infant
What can I say in a blog about my first grandchild? My brain, heart, guts and soul are rollercoasting with thoughts, imaginings and feelings. Shakespeare’s most famous quotation about babies is negative (but funny):

                                   All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players;

They have their exits and their entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts,

His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,

Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms….

Cuddle with Auntie Em

Things to look forward to….
Sam’s in his First Stage of Life and as well as mewling and puking, I’m sure he’ll do some drinking, feeding, looking, tracking, gurgling, babbling, chortling, biting, reaching, gripping, grabbing, staring, hugging, kissing, tickling, waving, clapping, dancing, pushing, pulling, rolling, sitting, crawling, holding, pointing, smiling, laughing…. And hopefully a goodly amount of sleeping. And that’s before this time next year. Until then, a couple of poems.

"I thought we'd agreed," said Cora, "it was just the three of us...."

Joy is my name

Infant Joy
by William Blake

‘I have no name.
I am but two days old.’
What shall I call thee?
‘I happy am.
Joy is my name.’
Sweet Joy befall thee!

Pretty Joy!
Sweet Joy but two day’s old.
Sweet Joy I call thee:
Thou dost smile.
I sing the while.
Sweet joy befall thee.

First Meetings

Dark, peaceful, sacred…

Although Carol Ann Duffy (like Blake, one of my favourite poets) writes the following to her daughter, it’s easy to imagine beyond the pronouns to any child, any time, any where, any when…

A Child's Sleep 
by Carol Ann Duffy
I stood at the edge of my child's sleep
hearing her breathe;
although I could not enter there,
I could not leave.

Her sleep was a small wood,
perfumed with flowers;
dark, peaceful, sacred,
acred in hours.

And she was the spirit that lives
in the heart of such woods;
without time, without history,
wordlessly good.

I spoke her name, a pebble dropped
in the still night,
and saw her stir, both open palms
cupping their soft light;

then went to the window. The greater dark
outside the room
gazed back, maternal, wise,
with its face of moon.

Samuel Miles Grimley

Coral

Garden Cottage at Nun Monkton

Garden Cottage

For our (Coral) wedding anniversary we returned to a tiny AirBnB where we stayed in 2019 (when visiting the Yorkshire Heart Vineyard). The oasis “Garden Cottage” is not far from York along a road going only to a remote village where cows graze freely on the village green, a green skewered by the fattest, tallest maypole I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a few, madam. Nun Monkton is the name of the village. The garden hummed with insects and wrapped us in its verdant peace. The dawn chorus was full of beauty.

Alice Hawthorne Inn

Alice Hawthorne

Nun Monkton is also home to the Alice Hawthorne Inn where we ate two nights in a row, the first with long-while friends, Sue and Brian. Stoked by delicious food (Crab Mayo, Roast Beetroot, Popcorn Prawns, Yorkshire Dales Lamb, Waterford Farm Steak, Sticky Toffee Pudding, Crème Catalan, Mini Sundae), the venue felt safe and welcoming.

Beningbrough Hall Estate

In The Moment

Our anniversary hike was around the nearby Beningbrough Hall Estate, alongside the River Ouse for much of the time, picking over gnarly roots and picnicking on tree stumps. Cooling forest sections on the walk provided welcome shelter. The house had an indoor exhibition (In The Moment: the art of wellbeing) aimed at reminding viewers to stand and stare, to pause, to slow down, to reflect, to be in the moment. Some of the pieces achieved that (for me) more than others but, on a hot day, it certainly slowed down the old heart rate.

Food and Nature

Amidst medical/political uncertainty and the competing noises of the media, some constants Remain True. The sights, sounds, smells and colours of nature continue to enchant. And eating, drinking and being merry all continue to drown out the stresses of the age. The messages about the “roadmap” towards “Freedom Day” Remain Confusing: Be Free/Be Cautious, Be Released/Continue Shielding, Do/Don’t/Maybe Wear Masks, Do/Don’t/Maybe Socially Distance, Go on holiday to a Red/Amber/AmberPlus/Green/GreenPlus Country/Staycation in the UK but Don’t Go to A Crowded Place (unless it’s a nightclub), Go Anywhere/Go Certain Places Sometimes/But Don’t Go There (small print = we might change the rules overnight and we’ll bury our heads in the sands about the understaffed, underpaid, overwhelmed NHS until we “beg” private companies to swoop in with greedy shareholders….)  But Nature and Food Remain True. And so do New Arrivals.

New Kid(s) On The Block

Welcome Earnest, my latest great nephew. Welcome Gertrude Jekyll, our climbing rose. Welcome Gabriel Oak, our potted rose. New things happen. Children grow. Roses bloom. Another day begins.

The Peace of Wild Things

A path diverging from the familiar....

Everything Old Is New Again

At President Joe Biden’s inauguration, the young poet, Amanda Gorman, speaking to “Americans, and The World,” expressed poetically how humans strive and thrive with passion and compassion (to borrow a phrase from another of my favourite poets, Maya Angelou):

   Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true:

   That even as we grieved, we grew,

   That even as we hurt, we hoped,

   That even as we tired, we tried.

I have to hope that the post-Covid world (when the disease is endemic rather than ripping across the globe without fear nor favour) will be a better world, where we can see things freshly and anew. Despite trudging many local byways over the years that I have lived in Saltaire, occasionally a new route presents itself and, on a familiar trail around the Bolton Abbey estate recently, we followed a signpost to Coney Warren and trod a path that was new to us.

Intrepid Exploration

Posforth Gill and Posforth Force

Negotating steep slopes, stiles, heathery fields, and walls by woods, it was reasonably easy to reach the Valley of Desolation where two falls, slightly tucked away but worth the find, thunder over drops. The higher falls, reached by a cul-de-sac path, is at Posforth Gill and the lower falls, the longer drops, are named Posforth Force. A perfect place for a picnic.

Reflecting back, projecting forward

Nature by day, TV by night! It’s notable that our TV-watching during this second or third Covid-lockdown (depending on whether you count local lockdowns) has mixed stressful police or medical dramas (Line of Duty, Unforgotten, ER) with gentler fare (Schitt’s Creek, Greyson’s Art Club, The Great Pottery Throw Down). It’s almost as if we need the distress to stay alert to issues and problems outside the pandemic and the beneficial stress (the eustress) to help us sleep. Whatever gets you through the night. I’ve found the poem The Peace of Wild Things a useful go-to poem during the last year. It was written by Wendell Berry (born 1934), a poet-philospher, essayist and novelist who is also a farmer and environmental activist.

Whatever Gets You Through The Night

The Peace of Wild Things

by Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

It is interesting that this poem was included in a collection, Tools of the trade: Poems for new doctors, given to all graduating doctors in Scotland between 2014 and 2018. By doing so, the medical organisations were acknowledging that poetry (or lyrics in general or more broadly the Arts) can play a vital role in contributing to the well being of all (both patients and health practitioners.) I have always believed this to be self-evident which is why the Tory party’s suggestion that ballerinas (and by implication all arts workers) should retrain to work in IT (Fatima’s next job could be in cyber – she just doesn’t know it yet) was so unenlightened and counter to the true “wealth of the nation” - the peace of wild things and the people who grew, hoped and tried.

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…

Snowdrops and Pancakes

Raindrops on roses

If I were to rank order Maria von Trapp’s list from Rodgers and Hammerstein’s My Favourite Things I would place at the top:

Silver white Winters that melt into Springs

….which is why it has been lovely this past week to to see snowdrops on our walks – appearing, like magic, in the week when I also discovered a new way to make pancakes. Yes, Shrove Tuesday, it must be the start of Lent:

“And every man and maide doe take their turne,

And tosse their Pancakes up for feare they burne.”

(proverb from 1619)

Well, this year, no Pancake Bell summoned me to be “shriven” (absolved of my sins through confession) but I still appreciated the symbols:

• Eggs (creation, fertility, eternity, the world itself)
• Salt (purification, seasoning and wholesomeness)
• Flour (the staff of life, domestic frugality and hard work)
• Milk (purity, abundance, the primal food)

and tried a new thing (actually a medieval trick) of gradually making a paste with everything except the egg whites and then folding the whisked egg whites gently into the paste…. Reader, I made them. Fluffy, or what? The collage above includes a picture of one of the more well-done ones (As I Like It) and includes a dollop of stewed rhubarb (cos I is from Yorkshire) and some coconut yoghurt (cos I is a bit tropical.) Oh, and look, there’s the latest completed puzzle. Oh, and there’s me having had my first Covid-19 vaccination…. And after all these months (the first recorded Covid cases in the UK were identified in York on January 31st 2020) I reflect that I have spent the greatest part of the year in the company of one person, so under the collage is one of My Favourite Poems in tribute….

A Marriage

by Michael Blumenthal 

You are holding up a ceiling

with both arms. It is very heavy,

but you must hold it up, or else

it will fall down on you. Your arms                                           are tired, terribly tired,

and, as the day goes on, it feels

as if either your arms or the ceiling

will soon collapse.

But then

unexpectedly,

something wonderful happens:

Someone,

a man or a woman,

walks into the room

and holds their arms up

to the ceiling beside you.

So you finally get

to take down your arms.

You feel the relief of respite,

the blood flowing back

to your fingers and arms.

And when your partner’s arms tire,

you hold up your own

to relieve him again.

And it can go on like this

for many years

without the house falling.

Top left, Michael Blumenthal

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.

PreBirthday Birthday Treats

Big Birthday Tighter Lockdown

I live in an area that has had an increasing Covid infection rate so, with tighter lockdown restrictions, my plans for celebrating my 60th birthday in the middle of October are well and truly on hold. Which explains why my favourite walk on the moors to Top Withins (scheduled for my birthday weekend) happened early. And a trip to the Harvey Nichols restaurant in Leeds was also tacked onto a trip that was meant to be just doing chores. Blowing the cobwebs away and putting the world to rights with a picnic at the Brontë Falls; and savouring the time and tastes over a delicious meal – I already feel I’ve been well and truly treated. (Happy Early Birthday To Me!) As a bonus I visited for the first time the Tiled Hall Café at Leeds Art Gallery.

Seasons Mingling

On Friday, I meandered along the River Aire and bathed in forest light feeling like the luckiest man alive. The day before, on Thursday, marble-sized hailstones battered Saltaire, crushing plants and battering berries off the weeping cotoneaster in our back garden. Is it Summer or Autumn or has Winter sneaked in? Sometime in October I’ll record (I hope) a RETURN TO LIVE THEATRE – I’ll be attending 3 x 45minute performances at Leeds Playhouse…. But yesterday, after the river walk and Tai Chi in the park (who guessed I would ever be doing Tai Chi?) I made a RETURN TO THE CINEMA…. So, in Pictureville, I was one of five masked punters who was glued to The Perfect Candidate.

No urgent justification to fund this project

I may have been so cinema-deprived that The Perfect Candidate felt like the best thing I’ve seen in ages – and that’s because it’s the ONLY thing I’ve seen at the cinema since the beginning of lockdown. There were a couple of moments in the film that felt formulaic – though other parts that were not formulaic and I was definitely transported out of my self and my immediate concerns into a different world. So here’s what I thought about my first cinema film in six months:

• I felt safe and comfortable in Pictureville cinema
• One of my favourite films of 2012 was Wajdja about a girl and her desire to ride a bike, made in secretive conditions in Saudi Arabia by the same director as The Perfect Candidate, Haifaa Al-Mounsour – this new film has a bigger budget, seems more obviously “cinematic” but has the same sensibilities and attention to human detail as Wadjda
• As soon as you see Dr Maryam (Mila Al Zahrani) driving her car, you know this is a 21st century Saudi Arabia. Maryam is an ordinary woman, observant and devout, and with extraordinary determination and enough temper to cut through some of the bullshit she encounters in her life as a trained doctor in a remote clinic and, later, accidentally, as a candidate for the local Municipal Council
• Helping Maryam (at first reluctantly) are her two sisters: Sara (a teenage eye-roller) and Selma (a confident wedding planner, played by Dhay who is, apparently, for those who know these things, a real-life social media influencer)
• The three sisters are left home alone by their patriarchal father who, against stereotype, wants to go “on tour” with his band of musicians, partly to recover from the grief over the loss of his unconventional wife a year before. He is prepared to defy extremist threats to censor his musical talents and states that he wants his daughters to live fulfilled lives.
• The authorities want Dr Maryam to concentrate on treating patients who are prepared to let a female doctor touch them and, later, to focus her political efforts on playgrounds for children and gardens. But there’s a more urgent priority in Maryam’s mind and her rival male candidate has no interest in…. repairing the road to her local clinic
• The Perfect Candidate made me laugh, feel angry, feel nervous, opened new vistas in my mind – and gave me hope

 

A (Yorkshire) lass unparallel'd

Boast thee, Death…. Downy windows close

In Antony and Cleopatra, Charmian closes the eyes of her asp-poisoned mistress with the following words:

So, fare thee well.
Now boast thee, Death. In thy possession lies
A lass unparallel'd. Downy windows, close;
And golden Phoebus never be beheld
Of eyes again so royal!

And thus spake Jenny Michelmore to Diana Rigg at the Chichester Festival Theatre in 1985. Thirty-five years later, on September 10th 2020, that same majestic Cleopatra, Dame Diana, took her last bow. Born in Doncaster, Diana Rigg always paid tribute to her Yorkshire roots. Her father was a railway engineer who was transferred to work on the railways in India where Diana learned Hindi as a second language. In later years, when an interviewer expected her to cite India when asking “where did you develop your ingrained sense of justice?”  Diana’s answer was “Yorkshire.” Although feeling she didn’t fit in when she returned to school in Leeds, Diana’s drama teacher at Fulneck, Sylvia Greenwood, instilled a love of Shakespeare and performing and Dame Diana returned to Leeds to receive an honorary degree and visit her old school.

Mistress of Theatre, TV, Cinema

At school Diana appeared as Orlando in Shakespeare’s As You Like It and Emily Brontë in The Brontës. She went on to be crowned with plaudits, winning BAFTA, Emmy, Tony and Evening Standard Awards in her time. (And striking out – successfully – for equal pay with her co-star in The Avengers at a time when it was rare for women to highlight inequality.) Highlights included:

• In Theatre: Brecht’s Caucasian Chalk Circle and Mother Courage, Shakespeare’s King Lear, Twelfth Night, Macbeth and Antony and Cleopatra (as Cordelia, Viola, Lady M and Cleopatra), Ronald Millar’s Abelard and Helouise, Stoppard’s plays Jumpers and Night and Day, both Eliza Dolittle and Mrs Higgins (twice) in My Fair Lady, Sondheim’s Follies, Euripides’ Medea, Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, Williams’s Suddenly Last Summer and Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard
• On TV: Shakespeare’s King Lear (as Regan), The Morecambe and Wise Show, Clytemnestra in The Oresteia, Ibsens’s Hedda Gabler, the 1985 Bleak House, her BAFTA-winning turn in Mother Love, Moll Flanders, Mrs Danvers in 1997’s Rebecca, Oleanna Tyrell in Game of Thrones, and cameos in popular programmes like Victoria, Detectorists, Doctor Who and the forthcoming Black Narcissus. But she will always be associated with her groundbreaking performance as Emma Peel in 51 episodes of The Avengers
• On film: Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream and Julius Caesar (as Helena and Portia), Mrs Tracey Bond in On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, Theatre of Blood, A Little Night Music, The Great Muppet Caper, Evil Under The Sun, The Painted Veil and the forthcoming Last Night in Soho

As well as her Shakespeare roles, I was most affected by (on TV) her performances in The Avengers, Mother Love, Moll Flanders, Game of Thrones and Detectorists; on film the shock of her fate in On Her Majesty’s Secret Service; but I was lucky enough to see her grimy, cackling, pipe-smoking, funny, grotesque Mother Courage on stage at the National Theatre in 1995 – a character full of grim energy at the beginning, dragging her enormous cart around the stage, quipping, dominating, manipulating; and, by the end of the production, a zombified hollowed-out shell of a woman, emblematic of all people shattered by the effects of needless war. An extremely un-vain performance. An acting legend.

Twilight Garden Tour at Harewood

Life starts all over again…. 

As Summer hovers, clinging on, and Autumn looms, about to spread, I think about Jordan Baker’s line in F Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby,

“Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.”

I wrote about that idea in the last post. A potent activity that reflected the idea was also our recent evening visit to Harewood House grounds. For many years, it was a place to take children to go wild on the adventure playground; and in recent times the Christmas decorations have been a highlight. Now, it’s all about the grounds….

Trevor and Sam

Head Gardener, Trevor Nicholson, led a small Covid-secure group on an exclusive tour of the site as the day visitors left and the sun went down. Accompanying Trevor was super-enthusiastic volunteer, Sam. We spent most of our time in the Himalayan garden and heard about the challenges of developing a great garden space and keeping it fresh each season. Many changes have happened over the centuries and in recent years, the mix of conservation, climate change, visitor experiences and the personal whims of gardeners and family alike have kept the team busy and scratching their heads and scrabbling in the soil to make the place spectacular for now but secure for the future. The Buddhist Stupa in the Himalayan Garden at Harewood is the only one of its kind in the UK and has been built and blessed by monks from Bhutan.

Walled Garden and Terrace View

The Walled Garden at Harewood currently has twelve large borders, all useful, many growing fruits and vegetables that are used on the estate or sold in local farm shops. It too has taken many forms over the decades and access to pictures of its development were fascinating, including a surreal period when it housed a maze. We ended our tour on the famous Charles Barry terrace with a glass of Prosecco and a meet-up with our “rival” twilight tour of people who had been round the Bird Garden.