I'm sorry there has been such a long break in transmission. My mother died at the beginning of the year and a lot had to be done to sort out her estate and somehow, blogging went onto the back burner. Then my son-in-law went down with cancer. He has recently been told that following surgery and horrible chemotherapy, he is in remission. I hope it lasts.
The world carries on. So my major news is that I won the Penshurst Village Poetry Competition for 2010 with a poem called This Summer I. I've been writing like never before. Lots and lots of short stories some of which I have entered (unsuccessfully) in short story competitions. I enjoy the writing, but is the effort of entering them in competitions worth it?
And now, in a moment of madness, I have decided to try to complete a 50,000 word novel inside a month. I registered for the NationalNovelWritingMonth. It means writing at quite a pace and not checking and editing as I go. It really does go against the grain to write like this, but I will have to do it. There are thousands of people around the world who have registered to attempt this task. If you manage to complete the novel and the organisers are able to confirm the word count, you get a certificate saying you are a winner. It's a bit like the Fancy Dress competition one of my granddaughters entered last weekend. She wore a witch's costume made by my multi-talented wife together with a wand with a purple cat on the end and a gorgeous hat. All under-6 contestants won a handsome bag of sweets. The two winners each won a helium-filled balloon. I reckon they were really happy. Parents and grandparents were too.
Friday, 5 November 2010
Thursday, 18 February 2010
A challenging farm
I have just been watching Monty Don help a young couple in Wales get their smallholding into action. They had two fields of rich grass and no animals or crops on them. One of the main problems was the husband's bi-polar disorder. His Zimbabwean-Welsh wife held things together. She worked three shifts a week as a nurse in a local hospital which brought in hard cash which they desperately needed. He had a demolition firm about which little was said. He did have several trucks and a JCB. All he could think about was building a large barn in one of their fields towards which he had a huge pile of rubble and another of what looked like second-hand floorboards. And nothing on the fields. Monty Don said they should cut the top field for hay when it was ready and then get some pigs in to clear an overgrown area which the husband wanted to get his digger into. He was taken to look at some cattle for stocking the lower field and also some pigs for the overgrown area.
But his bi-polar disorder got in the way. He found it very difficult to cope with it as well as committing to buying animals to stock the fields. He was really pleased when he got a contractor in to cut his hay. He stored some of it in a barn and the rest under a large tarpaulin in the field. So the field was producing money for him, at about £20 - 30 per bale if he wanted to sell it. This was a major step forward for him. In the end he bought four black pigs. Instead of putting them up in the overgrown area, he penned them beside their house. Perhaps he felt unsure about the safety of the animals when they were out of his sight. Mental illness can do that to you. After a few weeks he moved them up into his top field, but decided to keep them in an electric-fenced pen. He and Monty Don looked at the state of the pen after the pigs had been in it for a day and saw what a mess they had made of the grass. The husband didn't react to Monty's suggestion that they might be better off in the overgrown area. I think he had taken an important step for him. He had moved the pigs half way between the home pen and the overgrown area. He needed time and space to make important decisions. If he didn't have this space around him, he probably couldn't have thought constructively.
I know how he feels. I have PTSD which is more or less under control. But even now I need time and space to think about things before I can really make a decision. Any form of pressure, however well meant, is likely to scramble my brain so badly that I can't think. And there certainly was a stage in the programme when the husband had the pigs up in the overgrown area but felt absolutely nothing for them or the fact that he had all that hay in the barn. Monty Don didn't pressure him and over the next two months things were transformed. He let one field to another farmer to graze his sheep on, which produced regular income. And he bought some cattle to put in the top field. And he felt really positive about the farm with the animals. But there is always the risk that his bi-polar disorder might strike and turn things negative again. This puts a great strain on his wonderful wife and 2-year old daughter.
His wife wanted to grow fruit trees and turn their product into jams and chutneys. She remembered helping her grandmother in Zimbabwe doing just that. Monty Don showed her how there were all sorts of fruits and crops growing where she could gather them for free. Then he set her a challenge to display her wares at an important local food festival. She worked out her recipes and made jam and chutney and bottled them in quite a large quantity. Her labels were something to write home about. And they sold pretty well at the festival and people in the vicinity kept on asking her for jars. So her project was a success. Unfortunately, she became pregnant and felt that it might be better to hold off from the project for the time being. She knows that she produces a high quality product which people will buy. Her business could grow. At the end of the programme Monty Don and her husband planted a single pear tree as the first in her orchard of trees.
I thought this a was a really important programme not just because it was about helping an inexperienced couple set up a small farm, but it was as much about helping someone cope with mental illness. That last aspect was especially important for me. Well done, Monty Don.
But his bi-polar disorder got in the way. He found it very difficult to cope with it as well as committing to buying animals to stock the fields. He was really pleased when he got a contractor in to cut his hay. He stored some of it in a barn and the rest under a large tarpaulin in the field. So the field was producing money for him, at about £20 - 30 per bale if he wanted to sell it. This was a major step forward for him. In the end he bought four black pigs. Instead of putting them up in the overgrown area, he penned them beside their house. Perhaps he felt unsure about the safety of the animals when they were out of his sight. Mental illness can do that to you. After a few weeks he moved them up into his top field, but decided to keep them in an electric-fenced pen. He and Monty Don looked at the state of the pen after the pigs had been in it for a day and saw what a mess they had made of the grass. The husband didn't react to Monty's suggestion that they might be better off in the overgrown area. I think he had taken an important step for him. He had moved the pigs half way between the home pen and the overgrown area. He needed time and space to make important decisions. If he didn't have this space around him, he probably couldn't have thought constructively.
I know how he feels. I have PTSD which is more or less under control. But even now I need time and space to think about things before I can really make a decision. Any form of pressure, however well meant, is likely to scramble my brain so badly that I can't think. And there certainly was a stage in the programme when the husband had the pigs up in the overgrown area but felt absolutely nothing for them or the fact that he had all that hay in the barn. Monty Don didn't pressure him and over the next two months things were transformed. He let one field to another farmer to graze his sheep on, which produced regular income. And he bought some cattle to put in the top field. And he felt really positive about the farm with the animals. But there is always the risk that his bi-polar disorder might strike and turn things negative again. This puts a great strain on his wonderful wife and 2-year old daughter.
His wife wanted to grow fruit trees and turn their product into jams and chutneys. She remembered helping her grandmother in Zimbabwe doing just that. Monty Don showed her how there were all sorts of fruits and crops growing where she could gather them for free. Then he set her a challenge to display her wares at an important local food festival. She worked out her recipes and made jam and chutney and bottled them in quite a large quantity. Her labels were something to write home about. And they sold pretty well at the festival and people in the vicinity kept on asking her for jars. So her project was a success. Unfortunately, she became pregnant and felt that it might be better to hold off from the project for the time being. She knows that she produces a high quality product which people will buy. Her business could grow. At the end of the programme Monty Don and her husband planted a single pear tree as the first in her orchard of trees.
I thought this a was a really important programme not just because it was about helping an inexperienced couple set up a small farm, but it was as much about helping someone cope with mental illness. That last aspect was especially important for me. Well done, Monty Don.
Thursday, 11 February 2010
Statues in gardens
Statues can make gardens wildly exciting. Just think of the incredible Buddhist garden that Paul Merton saw in Ireland a fortnight ago. Not only were the sculptures extraordinary (and focused on sex) but they were carefully positioned so that they formed the focal points of vistas within the garden. I loved it. I might not really like the sculptures themselves, but the garden as a whole was a delight.
In contrast, at Hever Castle here in Kent, when the Astors took it over at the beginning of the 20th century, they converted the interior of the moated manor house (that Queen Anne Boleyn was born in) to a modern house, built a mock-Tudor village for servants and guests and created a lake by flooding the River Eden. Inside the house you will find Anne Boleyn's magnificent and huge headboard. In a room over the entrance archway there is a lovely collection of torture instruments. Between the house and lake they created an Italian garden leading to an open air theatre on the edge of the lake. Classical statues from the continent, are set in the garden. Individually, the statues are interesting, but the whole experience is a bit like walking through an old-fashioned museum. [I'm afraid I can't find my Hever photos at the moment. All I can do is refer you to their website: http://www.hevercastle.co.uk/Home/Gardens.aspx ]
At Groombridge Place, near Hever , the moated manor house is in private hands and so is inaccessible to the public. A garden on the north side of the house, however, is open to the public.
The part nearest the house is a fairly formal arrangement of rooms. One of them surprises you with a giant chess board and pieces. The pieces are heavy enough not to blow over in even quite a strong wind.
A short journey along a canal leads to woodland which contains all sorts of things for children. A playground for the littler ones and then great tree-climbing adventurous options for the older ones.
The first thing you come across as you walk through the wood enchants young and old alike. It's a pond with big wicker dinosaurs around it. Well, perhaps they aren't dinosaurs. Bu you know what I mean.
This one is definitely a dragon! It's got wings.
Oh. And I forgot the Flowerpot Man by the restaurant, which all the kids love.
Here at Penshurst Place the 11 acres of formal gardens are divided into rooms.
The largest is the Italian Garden in front of the house. The focus is an oval pond (circular from the first floor State Rooms) with a gorgeous stone man standing above the fountains. He's accumulated a wonderful living yellow-green patina with age.
The Magnolia Garden has a square sunken area filled with magnolias. In the centre is a naked bronze Naiad standing on a leaf on a marble disc. It's a copy of one standing in Government House in Brisbane, Australia. In spring she hides behind the gorgeous blossom of the tress and in winter gathers snow.
There is a long path running between garden rooms which is interrupted by Diana's Bath with its fish, water lilies and fountain. Beyond it the path continues right to the east wall of the garden. There a small pond stands before a stunning bronze statue of an archer by Robert Rattray which was erected in 2009. The bow and arrow serve as a sundial. On either side of it is a topiary beast.
On the north is the Sidney porcupine and on the south,the Earl of Leicester's Bear and Ragged staff.
The Sidney porcupine, which doesn't look much like a porcupine yet. Give it a bit more time, I think.
The Leicester Bear and Ragged Staff,however, look pretty good.
And, finally, in one corner of the Flag Garden stands a bronze Porcupine by Robert Rattray which was erected in 2000. It stands in front of an arched entrance in the Yew hedging Coming through that doorway you are first awarer of the porcupine and only afterwards of the garden. I think it's brilliant.
More on statues in other gardens another day.
In contrast, at Hever Castle here in Kent, when the Astors took it over at the beginning of the 20th century, they converted the interior of the moated manor house (that Queen Anne Boleyn was born in) to a modern house, built a mock-Tudor village for servants and guests and created a lake by flooding the River Eden. Inside the house you will find Anne Boleyn's magnificent and huge headboard. In a room over the entrance archway there is a lovely collection of torture instruments. Between the house and lake they created an Italian garden leading to an open air theatre on the edge of the lake. Classical statues from the continent, are set in the garden. Individually, the statues are interesting, but the whole experience is a bit like walking through an old-fashioned museum. [I'm afraid I can't find my Hever photos at the moment. All I can do is refer you to their website: http://www.hevercastle.co.uk/Home/Gardens.aspx ]
At Groombridge Place, near Hever , the moated manor house is in private hands and so is inaccessible to the public. A garden on the north side of the house, however, is open to the public.
The part nearest the house is a fairly formal arrangement of rooms. One of them surprises you with a giant chess board and pieces. The pieces are heavy enough not to blow over in even quite a strong wind.
A short journey along a canal leads to woodland which contains all sorts of things for children. A playground for the littler ones and then great tree-climbing adventurous options for the older ones.
The first thing you come across as you walk through the wood enchants young and old alike. It's a pond with big wicker dinosaurs around it. Well, perhaps they aren't dinosaurs. Bu you know what I mean.
This one is definitely a dragon! It's got wings.
Oh. And I forgot the Flowerpot Man by the restaurant, which all the kids love.
Here at Penshurst Place the 11 acres of formal gardens are divided into rooms.
The largest is the Italian Garden in front of the house. The focus is an oval pond (circular from the first floor State Rooms) with a gorgeous stone man standing above the fountains. He's accumulated a wonderful living yellow-green patina with age.
The Magnolia Garden has a square sunken area filled with magnolias. In the centre is a naked bronze Naiad standing on a leaf on a marble disc. It's a copy of one standing in Government House in Brisbane, Australia. In spring she hides behind the gorgeous blossom of the tress and in winter gathers snow.
There is a long path running between garden rooms which is interrupted by Diana's Bath with its fish, water lilies and fountain. Beyond it the path continues right to the east wall of the garden. There a small pond stands before a stunning bronze statue of an archer by Robert Rattray which was erected in 2009. The bow and arrow serve as a sundial. On either side of it is a topiary beast.
On the north is the Sidney porcupine and on the south,the Earl of Leicester's Bear and Ragged staff.
The Sidney porcupine, which doesn't look much like a porcupine yet. Give it a bit more time, I think.
The Leicester Bear and Ragged Staff,however, look pretty good.
And, finally, in one corner of the Flag Garden stands a bronze Porcupine by Robert Rattray which was erected in 2000. It stands in front of an arched entrance in the Yew hedging Coming through that doorway you are first awarer of the porcupine and only afterwards of the garden. I think it's brilliant.
More on statues in other gardens another day.
Thursday, 4 February 2010
It's a Good-to-be-alive Day today
The sky was clear as a bell this morning. No clouds and scarcely any vapour trails to be seen. To add to this the sun was shining as hard as it could. Which, given the time of year, is not very hard. And it was COLD. -1 C to be exact. Though there was the blessing of no breeze. The light was crystal, and I'm sure I could have seen Hadrian's Wall from here in Kent were it not for the odd hill or two.
However, I thought it was time I showed you what the Lancup Well looks like. It's sort of roughly rhomboidal in shape and about 75 metres across. I don't know how deep it is - but certainly enough for geese to swim on it all year round. Mallards and coots usually come back about March. And for several years we have had a pair of swans. But I've never seen any cygnets.
This is the view of the Lancup Well from the west. The entire surface of the lake is frozen except for the little bit near the camera. An avenue of trees runs north from the walled garden of Penshurst Place and just touches the east side of the lake.
Two photos of sunset over the Lancup Well. The one through the reeds was taken 2 metres south of the one to the right.
The avenue looking south from the Lancup Well. You can just see Penshurst Place as a small smudge on the right. The avenue runs north a further 500 metres to run into a relatively recently planted wood.
It includes, however, one or two very much older trees which probably belong to the parkland that existed before early 18th century landscaping. I utterly love this ancient, twisted oak tree that is slowly disintegrating.
Here you can see how the old tree is included in the newer avenue.
However, I thought it was time I showed you what the Lancup Well looks like. It's sort of roughly rhomboidal in shape and about 75 metres across. I don't know how deep it is - but certainly enough for geese to swim on it all year round. Mallards and coots usually come back about March. And for several years we have had a pair of swans. But I've never seen any cygnets.
This is the view of the Lancup Well from the west. The entire surface of the lake is frozen except for the little bit near the camera. An avenue of trees runs north from the walled garden of Penshurst Place and just touches the east side of the lake.
Two photos of sunset over the Lancup Well. The one through the reeds was taken 2 metres south of the one to the right.
The avenue looking south from the Lancup Well. You can just see Penshurst Place as a small smudge on the right. The avenue runs north a further 500 metres to run into a relatively recently planted wood.
It includes, however, one or two very much older trees which probably belong to the parkland that existed before early 18th century landscaping. I utterly love this ancient, twisted oak tree that is slowly disintegrating.
Here you can see how the old tree is included in the newer avenue.
Monday, 25 January 2010
Gardener's Delight?
All animals are a tube surrounded or contained by a wide variety of outward structures. The outer structures protect the inner tube and its bits. The food - whatever that is - goes in at one end (we usually call this the front end) and is excreted at the other (back) end, having had all its goodness extracted in its process through the tube. Some animals - like earthworms - excrete all their waste in one lump, a worm-cast. Others, like birds, excrete the solid matter first and then the liquid matter on top, hence the white topping to bird droppings. I don't think birds have separate exits for solid or liquid waste. We, and many other animals, excrete solid and liquid waste separately. In all cases the amount excreted is directly in proportion to the intake of food. The more you eat, the more you excrete. No problems so far? Good. Then I'll move on to the next paragraph.
Big animals need a lot of food. If you have ever kept hamsters or budgies pretending that they are your children's pets, you will know that they eat very little. A cat eats more and a dog even more. Mind you, my point could be made simply by talking about how much a toy dog eats compared to a Great Dane. Elephants eat huge amounts of food - leaves, branches, grass - in order to keep going. They also drink a lot of water at the same time as they play with mud at waterholes. OK. They plaster mud on themselves to protect from the sun. Primitive sunblock, I suppose. (But no human would ever buy it.) The point is that the more an animal eats, the more it excretes. Obvious, I suppose. But it's still surprising when you see an elephant pee. There is probably enough warm liquid for at least one bath in an elephant pee. According to Michell Symons Diary 2010 elephants excrete 20 kgs of dung every day. Or 7,300 kg (7.3 tonnes) a year. No doubt a gardener would be pleased to get their hands on this stuff once it was well-rotted. But pity the poor zoo keeper who has to shovel it all up every day. 20kg of elephant dung is the better part of a wheelbarrow full.
Big animals need a lot of food. If you have ever kept hamsters or budgies pretending that they are your children's pets, you will know that they eat very little. A cat eats more and a dog even more. Mind you, my point could be made simply by talking about how much a toy dog eats compared to a Great Dane. Elephants eat huge amounts of food - leaves, branches, grass - in order to keep going. They also drink a lot of water at the same time as they play with mud at waterholes. OK. They plaster mud on themselves to protect from the sun. Primitive sunblock, I suppose. (But no human would ever buy it.) The point is that the more an animal eats, the more it excretes. Obvious, I suppose. But it's still surprising when you see an elephant pee. There is probably enough warm liquid for at least one bath in an elephant pee. According to Michell Symons Diary 2010 elephants excrete 20 kgs of dung every day. Or 7,300 kg (7.3 tonnes) a year. No doubt a gardener would be pleased to get their hands on this stuff once it was well-rotted. But pity the poor zoo keeper who has to shovel it all up every day. 20kg of elephant dung is the better part of a wheelbarrow full.
Thursday, 21 January 2010
Big numbers lie!
If you walk on sand dunes or a beach above high water mark in a strong wind you find the experience most uncomfortable, if not unpleasant. Particles of sand are whipped up and painfully lash the exposed parts of your body, in particular, your face. This also happens in deserts, if you ever happen to find yourself in one. And in finely cultivated fields when the surface has dried out. Since most of you are generally not in these situations, you rarely have experienced such an event Except when you are measuring the location of sand dunes which do move over time thanks to the wind and, perhaps, Spring Tides.
Now, there is an astounding fact to be found in Michell Symons Diary 2010. Did you know that 2,000 pounds of space dust and other debris lands on the Earth every day? I thought not. It's a staggering 909.1 kg for the metrically inclined. Or 331,818.2 kg per year. This sounds an awful lot of stuff which would form an enormous pile if it were all in one place. But I suppose it falls roughly evenly over the whole of our planet. The Earth's area is 510,072,000 square kilometres. This means that 0.0065 kg (6,5 grams) of the stuff falls on 1 square kilometre per year. Let's say I occupy 1 square metre. Because 1 square kilometre contains 1,000,000 square metres, that means it would hold that many people. So 6.5 grams of space dust falls on 1,000,000 people. Each of these people gets bashed on the head by 0.0000065 grams of debris every year. And even less per day. My calculator can't/won't do the calculation of 0.0000065/365 grams per day. (My calculator was bought for £1.50 in 1988 and has not been updated. Is it a museum piece?)
So the number that started out sounding pretty impressive, turns out to be nothing to worry about after all. Always work out what impressive sounding figures mean. Especially if they come from politicians of all stripes.
Now, there is an astounding fact to be found in Michell Symons Diary 2010. Did you know that 2,000 pounds of space dust and other debris lands on the Earth every day? I thought not. It's a staggering 909.1 kg for the metrically inclined. Or 331,818.2 kg per year. This sounds an awful lot of stuff which would form an enormous pile if it were all in one place. But I suppose it falls roughly evenly over the whole of our planet. The Earth's area is 510,072,000 square kilometres. This means that 0.0065 kg (6,5 grams) of the stuff falls on 1 square kilometre per year. Let's say I occupy 1 square metre. Because 1 square kilometre contains 1,000,000 square metres, that means it would hold that many people. So 6.5 grams of space dust falls on 1,000,000 people. Each of these people gets bashed on the head by 0.0000065 grams of debris every year. And even less per day. My calculator can't/won't do the calculation of 0.0000065/365 grams per day. (My calculator was bought for £1.50 in 1988 and has not been updated. Is it a museum piece?)
So the number that started out sounding pretty impressive, turns out to be nothing to worry about after all. Always work out what impressive sounding figures mean. Especially if they come from politicians of all stripes.
Friday, 15 January 2010
Penshurst Parkland in the snow
I thought I ought to show you what I was talking about at the end of December. Christmas and New Year intervened to interrupt, I'm afraid. However, I'm back. I'll start with a photo taken about a mile away from Penshurst Place to give you the lie of the land.
The feature on the left is the Lancup Well, an ancient small lake. Beyond the three trees in the middle ground is the snow-covered cricket pavilion.
With luck you will see the trees on the right which form a small wood near the camera and an avenue going towards the house after that. The Lancup Well is again on the left with, beyond it, another avenue of trees.
Here is one of the avenues showing both new replanting on the right and some on the left, together with the old planting on the left. The strange object towards the bottom of the slope is a World War II Pill Box (Grade II Listed).
In the Autumn I photographed some of the trees here. I'm afraid I couldn't resist them.
In the foreground is all that remains of what was once a magnificent tree for children to climb. Unfortunately it got burned down (?by accident) once it became too dangerous. Beyond are the colours of a young avenue.
The Ash tree standing tall has sheltered me and the dog from rain more than once.
I've mentioned the Bear Oak in an earlier blog. Here the beast is. You can see that I wasn't exaggerating when I described its derelict state.
The feature on the left is the Lancup Well, an ancient small lake. Beyond the three trees in the middle ground is the snow-covered cricket pavilion.
In the Autumn I photographed some of the trees here. I'm afraid I couldn't resist them.
Sanitation connected
Toilets of one form or another have always been a crucial element of domestic design. You don't want to eat and sleep where you crap, do you? Or I don't think so. Let me know if you know different. For nearly all the time we have had toilets they have been outside the living area. For obvious reasons (see above). However, we tended to use cess pits or piles where the stuff could be collected and carted off to be spread on farmers' fields as fertiliser. Never waste good fertiliser when it's cheap. Things changed in the mid 19th century.
Then the water closet was invented. I don't care whether it was Thomas Crapper who did the deed or not. The swirling beast was invented. It meant that the toilet was brought indoors. Durham City, where I have some knowledge, was no doubt typical of many other towns and cities in the realm. The owners of houses built on one of the city's bridges installed water closets. They worked a treat. The only trouble was that the outshot was not a treat for passers-by as the water closets simply emptied their contents down the face of the bridge pier. The resultant stinking, clinging mass was only removed in the winter when the River Wear flooded.
Away from the bridge, other well-to-do residents of the City also installed fashionable water closets. In one part of the town they instructed the installers of the water closets (plumbers?) to lead the discharge beyond the end of their back gardens in pipes. They didn't care what happened after then. The result was that Durham Racecourse got waterlogged - or should that be shit-logged? - and led to complaints. Eventually, after inspections by the Board of Health, mains sewers were installed throughout the City. Householders were required to connect their houses to the mains at their own expense.
What has led to this fertile discussion? An entry in Michell Symons 2010 Diary which says that Most toilets flush in E flat.</
Then the water closet was invented. I don't care whether it was Thomas Crapper who did the deed or not. The swirling beast was invented. It meant that the toilet was brought indoors. Durham City, where I have some knowledge, was no doubt typical of many other towns and cities in the realm. The owners of houses built on one of the city's bridges installed water closets. They worked a treat. The only trouble was that the outshot was not a treat for passers-by as the water closets simply emptied their contents down the face of the bridge pier. The resultant stinking, clinging mass was only removed in the winter when the River Wear flooded.
Away from the bridge, other well-to-do residents of the City also installed fashionable water closets. In one part of the town they instructed the installers of the water closets (plumbers?) to lead the discharge beyond the end of their back gardens in pipes. They didn't care what happened after then. The result was that Durham Racecourse got waterlogged - or should that be shit-logged? - and led to complaints. Eventually, after inspections by the Board of Health, mains sewers were installed throughout the City. Householders were required to connect their houses to the mains at their own expense.
What has led to this fertile discussion? An entry in Michell Symons 2010 Diary which says that Most toilets flush in E flat.</
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