We had snow

Along with much of the country, we had a good snowfall on Friday. Here is Main Street:

Later it stopped snowing and started looking pretty. (Obviously this was from teh prespective of one who was safe and warm inside.

Today we have been waiting to see if it will melt so we can out to do shopping for Christmas dinner.

Through a windscreen darkly

At this time of year, and at a certain time of day (say around 7 o'clock in the morning) there is often a wonderful effect. Ground mist clings to the lower lying land, with trees poking through into clear air, and the rising sun shines on it all amidst gorgeously painted clouds of orange, yellow, purple, red and skies of clear, pale blue. It's a wonderful sight, fully compensating for the fact it is only 7 o'clock and freezing!

On our way to work each day we get a particularly nice view over the Vale of York as we come down the hill. And over the last couple of weeks we have had this experience of sunrise-on-ground-mist quite a few times. So when it was a foggy start recently I decided to take the camera along to see what I could capture through the windscreen of the car.

As we started off it was pretty foggy.

The end of the lane got closer and we thought we could see something

Yes, the farmhouse at the Beansheaf! We were going the right way.

Further on it began to lift a little and I held onto the hope that I would get the shot I wanted. Here are some lorries emerging from the dark and fog.

But this is my gorgeous view!

On a clear day it is much nicer - try and add in the ground mist and sunrise for yourself...

Catching up

The irony of a vibrant village community is that it's harder to find the time to post blogs about it. Fancy being too busy with life to waste time on yon t'Interweb!

First of all, we did Halloween stuff. I didn't write it up before the bonfire night post last time. Here is our pumpkin this year. A pumpkin in the window indicates to everyone that you are at home for trick or treat.

In the village you tend to know which particular small witches, werewolves and skeletons will be calling on you, each taking with great seriousness and thoughtful consideration only one sweet from the cavernous depths of the proffered tin, then a cautious second when prompted. Bless!

Meanwhile, the Village Hall is always in need of additional funds (hint - donations can be made through Paypal!) so various people try to come up with ideas to help us raise some cash and have fun at the same time. Recently some neighbours had a very good idea indeed; they cooked a Spanish meal for a small groups of people (12 plus themselves) and charged a ticket entry. Those of us who managed to get tickets had a wonderful evening being wined and dined on a fantastic selection of dishes from tapas starters to home made ice cream desserts. Delicious! (For those of you on Facebook, there are pictures in the Kirby Misperton People group).

Next month it's sausages from around the world. Really. It would seem there are many varieties, including vegetarian. In my personal experience, vegetarian sausages usually fool meat-eaters anyway. In fact, I'm not sure why sausages aren't all vegetarian to begin with. It would seem more honest. Maybe that's just me.

In other thrilling news the council has resurfaced the road. As for the pavements, these are still slippery with leaf mould and pitted with more cavities than Augustus Gloop's teeth. However, the road is lovely with shiny new white lines by the roundabout and everything.

What a wonderful world.

Traditions

The last three nights have been taken over by fireworks. Here in Kirby Misperton, as elsewhere in the country, household pets have hidden behind the sofa while the humans engage in certain madness.

I didn't get to any firework parties this year, which was a shame. I like to "Ooh" and "Ahh" in the cold and damp, squinting through my clouded breath to see the brilliant splinters of colour and showers of golden rain. This year, Guy Fawkes' Night fell on a Thursday and there have been 3 solid nights (possibly even a 4th tonight) of spectacular explosions.

Don't get me wrong - if I was a Catholic I might take a different view. But I do love the fireworks. Not so keen on chucking effigies on bonfires though.

On Thursday night I was waiting for a lift home after a session working late. It was about 7.30-8.00 and the moon was out, shining through the branches of the trees. Everything was very quiet and rather pretty and silvery. Then suddenly I heard the sound of a giant wrestling tin foil and the sky lit up with jewels. I could hear delighted, shrieking children and smell that smell - you know the one you get on bonfire night, gunpowder and anticipation, mixed with potato skins burnt in the fire and sparklers singeing woollen gloves. I was whisked back to being very small, looking through my grandma's heavy winter curtains at all the lights in the sky.

So much for a bit of nostalgia. On Saturday it changed into something else. We spent the early evening driving back from Lancaster along the A59, passing various towns and villages on the way. (if ever you take this road, go to Pendleton for a pub lunch). For the whole of the route we saw bonfires and firework displays. It really hit home to me that this is something we do everywhere in the country. Huge numbers of us at around the same time are standing in the cold and often the rain, shivering a little, cricking our necks to look up at the sky. As we drove through the dark countryside we could see pockets of habitation miles ahead because of the fireworks - like King Edwin's sparrow, we flew through great stretches of darkness interspersed with sudden flashes of light and warmth and life.

We have been doing this around this time of year since before the Romans came. Guy Fawkes is a convenient excuse to retain the old ways, lighting the fires, keeping in touch with the earth and seasons and passage of time.

Now it's really winter and we can look forward to spending time with neighbours in warmth and cheer, while the rain rattles on the glass and wind yells down the chimney. At this time of year we draw closer together, in this village, with these friends, instinctively marking the change in the calendar.

A belated happy Samhain to you all.

War Weekend

It's that time of year when, as the trees disrobe in swirls of gold and bronze, and as our breath starts to cloud the air, we humans rediscover nostalgia. There is something about the lengthening of the dark hours and the reflective nature of the season that turns the mind to times gone by. As the world settles down to sleep, we snuggle down and tell stories beside the metaphorical fire.

It is therefore the perfect time of year for Pickering to hold its internationally acclaimed War Weekend.

A staggering number of aficionados descend upon the town each year in order to dress up in costumes and recreate the look, if not the feel, of the Second World War. There are extremes of dedication, of course, but a reliably large crowd of people enjoy the occasion, with bands playing '40s music in the streets while people dance and reminisce with complete stangers. Visitors travel from all over the world to participate, and we are awash with camper vans and classic vehicles for a few glorious days.

The town centre is parked up with old cars and even some tanks. The steam engine fore-swears Harry Potter in favour of Winston Churchill, and the pubs hang out the flags and party like it's 1945. There is an American contingent along to show willing, and lots of events tied into the theme of the weekend.

When we went along the local Beck Isle Museum was doing a roaring trade.

The Beck Isle has a wealth of artefacts from Yorkshire farming history and rural life. Like the Tardis, it is larger inside than it seems from the outside, and you could easily spend the afternoon pottering among the rooms and sheds living in a different time zone. Fortunately there do not appear to be Daleks.

To my mind this year the War Weekend was made rather more modern with the venerable Dame Vera Lynn, the "Forces' Sweetheart", recently topping the album charts at the age of, I believe, 92 and showing the young whipper-snappers of my children's generation how it used to be done when their grandparents were young. Really, children of the noughties, you should hang your hoodies in shame! Where is your musical rebuff? Are there no more good tunes to be discovered? What were the Arctic Monkeys thinking of, to be dismissed in such a summary fashion?

Back at the War Weekend, I admit to being bemused as to why people would want to recreate a time of death, destruction, hunger and terror; a time when children were sent to live with strangers far away, there was not quite enough food and you were constantly in fear of bombs or gas attacks. Maybe it was different in Pickering, and my view is based on the London experience (I think I have admitted in the past to be a big southern softie). Certainly my mother shows very little interest in recreating that period of her life, when she was a frightened teenager sleeping in a bomb shelter and living on powdered egg and margarine. Although she did like the glamorous American service men and jitterbugging...

I have to confess though, that we did not go to the War Weekend this year. I was only reminded to write about it because of the volume of traffic on the roads as we drove home from a family occasion, and the many signs directing the hapless visitor towards the War Weekend Park and Ride. These pictures are from a couple of years ago. However, I doubt the fashions or accessories have changed very much - in fact, by definition they will have changed not at all.

Delicious

We have had a busy couple of weeks transporting offspring to universities, which meant we enjoyed another trip over the Pennines to Lancaster, and also one down via Derby to Newcastle-under-Lyme. The weather held fair, although the roads were horrid a couple of times.

The Newcastle trip is a new one for us, and we were pleased to see the JCB World Parts Centre en route. Thank goodness someone is making parts to keep the works working; if anyone can do it, JCB are the people for the job!

Anyway, that isn't what  wanted to tell you about at all.

What I was going to tell you about was the mouth-watering day we had in Malton yesterday enjoying the Food Lovers Festival.

As you can see, we had lots of people at lots of stalls selling lots of delicious things. I was personally delighted to find baclawa as well as a good selection of beers from the local brewery at Suddaby's. The beers were particularly interesting as there was a new brew I hadn't tried before (Malton Goddess - excellent) and some Lavender Beer. I was a little cautious with that one, but in fact it was lovely too - made with honey from lavender, just to put your mind at rest.

To make sure everyone knew what was happening, the Town Crier was out.

And in case anyone got bored they had a band.

I am glad to say I now have enough olives, cheese and sundry breads to last a while. I probably should have got more of the beer though. Still, no doubt I can pop into the Crown Hotel and pick some up easily enough. It's a hard life!

Spider sense

There was a strange claim made on TV today; I don't know if it is true or not, but here it is anyway. To keep spiders away, place conkers in the room.

Why would that be?

And why would I want to do it? Spiders are creepy, true, but flies are worse.