Kirby Misperton Life

Home and away

2011-10-07T09:43:00.000+01:00

Since I changed jobs some time ago (about 21 months in fact) I have been away from home on a regular basis. It has been less easy to find time to write posts for the blog, and I find myself missing the simple pleasure of taking the time to think about the things that matter to me: family; friends; the contentment and privilege of living in a place I love.

Long days and weeks spent in a hotel room or travelling to and from offices have been tiring, and the demands of the job have been significant. Don;t get me wrong, dear reader, I do love my job, and for that I am also grateful. I also love to come home, to our little village away from the noise and excitement of urban living, and to sit looking at the garden and listening to the birds while enjoying a cup of tea in my very English home.

What has struck me forcefully is that I need this quiet to recharge. In the modern era of electronic gadgetry, I can imagine a little icon above my head of a battery flashing as it drinks up mains power until eventually a message appears letting me know I can unplug myself and return to normal operating service.

Today is a day off. I am using it to catch up with housework and to soak up the peacefulness of my environment - often interrupted by farm traffic or children on their way to school, but peace is not the same as absence of noise after all. It's a sunny day of the October kind, with a chill in the air after last week's unseasonal excess, and I have work to do of the nourishing kind; tasks which feed the soul and warm the heart because they make our house a home.

And tonight is the Village Quiz which we need to finish writing, so no more time to chat for now.

Crazy apples

2011-07-28T21:25:00.000+01:00

I was wondering why our apple tree was looking so laden this weekend - then I heard on the news that apple season is early this year due to the unusual weather. So it looks like I'll be knee-deep in Bramleys ahead of schedule.

I am looking forward to that!

The patter of tiny beaks

2011-06-19T14:46:00.000+01:00

Hurrah! Baby swallows are now in full voice, feeding unceasingly throughout the day. The apparently empty nest erupts into a furious scramble for nourishment as one or another parent flies desperately in to feed the monstrous demands of their offspring. Near collisions are narrowly avoided as they dash back and forth, trying to keep their brood satisfied, come rain or shine (although not, I must say, gloom of night).

Meanwhile, we fond surrogate grandparents are trying not to disturb them too often and using a different door as much as possible, waiting to go in or out when the parent birds are away for a moment.

I am looking forward to the babies learning to fly soon; one of the greatest joys of a summer's day. Newly fledged swallows zipping and tumbling exuberantly across the sky is a simple pleasure which can burst the heart.

Shelter

2011-05-22T16:50:00.000+01:00

The weather has been glorious in this part of the world for quite a while now; although we were all glad, I think, to have a little rain over the last couple of days. The BBC has been very exercised at the early flowering of a number species, especially down South. I think we have that story every year, except when things are disastrously late. Perhaps someone needs to explain to them how averages actually work. Did you know almost 50% of children are below average? Shocking!

Anyway, the adventure this weekend has been the construction of a tiny greenhouse, in which I hope to grow tomatoes and peppers. While the courgettes and pumpkins are generally butch enough to flourish in our unpredictable climate, I find tomatoes and peppers still yearn for a more Mediterranean state of affairs than North Yorkshire can realistically provide. So a greenhouse seemed the very thing.

It was all going so well. The man of the house constructed the frame yesterday afternoon with consummate ease, and we looked forward to loading the glass today. Then it got windy. I swear the ash trees in the garden are bendier than a bus in York.

It did not seem a wise move to start heaving panes of glass about. So we have indulged in other activities instead, such as demolishing the wonderful Victoria Sponge bought at the Malton Food Fair yesterday. It's a hard life.

Cheerful bulbs

2011-02-27T17:29:00.002Z

The snowdrops put in their appearance a few weeks ago, displaying their glowing brilliance in the shade of the lilac tree. It lifts the spirits to see them poking through the winter earth and know at a visceral level that spring is on her way back again. This year I have been especially cheered by the way they gleam in the shadows on those days when the clouds block out the feeble returning sun and the world is grey and cold and damp.
Today I noticed that we now have a golden crocus among the snowdrops. A rich buttery yellow, it adds some real presence tot he garden. The snowdrops announce the end of winter; the croci herald the more imminent arrival of warmer days and new life.
Already the world is lighter earlier in the morning and I hear the mutterings of birds in the branches outside the window. Soon I will be complaining about the racket, but for now it is a joy.
Our village has kept going through the snow and cold and dark; we continue to hold events and spend time with neighbours, fund-raising for our village hall and for wider concerns such as Youth Diabetes. or celebrating birthdays and other triumphs.
It is a privilege to live in a warm community, and if it is sometimes difficult to find the time or energy to contribute, then we each know that eventually the effort will seem easier and the energy will return.

New year, new project

2011-01-23T19:28:00.000Z

Christmas survived, New Year begun. So tradition dictates that now I decide on a new project.

Recently I have started a course in Old English, which is proving really interesting and I am enjoying immensely. But what to do with it after I have finished? Much as I would probably enjoy getting together with people of similar interests, most of the meetings of which I am aware are held in the south or midlands (unsurprisingly). This part of the world was known in the period as Northanhymbre ("North of the Humber") and had a fairly separate development path to the southern half of the country following the migration of various Germanic people to this island. The geography of the country also made it difficult to unify it in the way that was achieved by various kings of Wessex or Mercia or Kent, although there were times when Northern kings played their part on a larger stage.

The spread of Christianity in the region also was at odds with the southern part of the country. Augustine arrived in Canterbury from Pope Gregory to convert the heathens; meanwhile Irish monks were working in the north, with St Aidan leading much of the missionary effort. This resulted in the disputes about the calculation of Easter, which provided a useful metaphor of the differences between the two traditions, and was only resolved in a synod at Whitby in 663, where Hilda was abbess.

However, it is important to put the period into context. The Roman occupation ended in the 5th century and the Old English period ended in 1066 after a period of about 600 years. In the north, the Vikings had a greater influence than in the south and many Old English references have been lost (although those that have survived have been incredibly important eg Bede's writings).

So Old English churches are rare, and those with stone foundations rarer, and those in the north rarer still(I believe). So it is with great interest that I look at our very own St Lawrence's church with Saxon stone foundations. And it occurs to me I want to know more about the life of people around this village in the period pre-dating the Domesday Book.

So that is what I shall try to find out more about.

Postcard from a snowy world

2010-12-19T15:19:00.000Z

Well, it's no surprise at this time of year to see snow. We have seen more than usual although less than some parts of the world. In general services have continued to run with little delay (for which an immense thank you, especially to Yorkshire Coastliner).The worst aspect of the snow was the avalanche last weekend when all the snow on the roof fell off in one enormous, thundering crash, burying the newly cleared path, but fortunately not hitting anyone who migth have been at the door and therfore underneath the considerable quantity of debris.

Just as the snow and compacted ice had nearly cleared and the black ice was running out of puddles to freeze, just as the snow melt from the moors was causing the Derwent to overflow its banks, just as the Ouse in York, frozen across its entire width at Lendal Bridge, started to flow again, just as all this happened, it started to snow again this afternoon.

Those cheery Christmas carols are wearing a bit thin. I have never been so stressed about getting ready for the the festivities. In KM Towers we do Christmas big. Birthdays, not so much. Christmas, huge. And this year the weather has conspired to prevent me from preparing adequately. The grocery deliveries failed two weeks running leaving me confused as to what food was in and what I still need to buy. As for shopping for presents, I have avoided doing on-line shopping for the most part due to the uncertainty of deliveries (currently anxiously awaiting the few mail-ordered presents but still hopeful, and relieved I didn't order more this way). Yesterday's trip into Malton ticked off most of the remaining stocking fillers. which was a huge relief; now for the final grocery delivery on Tuesday and then I can start baking. However, if it fails me I doubt I can manage to pick up everything in Malton (my arms are not strong enough to manage it all on the bus) so we might not get all the treats I had planned.

None of this represents the end of the world. So long as my family manage the journey home over the next few days, and we can be together, actually I don't really mind. I would prefer to have the gifts and the food and the treats, but they are the trimmings, after all. And of that sounds unbearably twee, so be it. Ha[[y Christmas to you!

Fungi to have around

2010-10-03T12:24:00.000+01:00

We went for a stroll or two in Dalby Forest yesterday, armed with camera and water-proofs. As it turned out the weather kept dry (unlike today) but gloomy. We are firm believers that taking an umbrella or mac means it is less likely to rain - and that if it does one can ackowledge the fact comfortably from within one's waterproof cocoon.

It's a little early yet to see the trees in their full autumnal glory - they are showing increasing signs of their annual wardrobe change, but are not quite ready yet. However, we did find some marvellous fungi; I know very little about mushrooms and toadstools, except I can recognise an inkcap when I see it! And here it is:

We found lots of other kinds too as we walked through the forest, although the Little People living in them politely declined to have their puctures taken. Here are a few samples.

Today the rain is raining and the wind is roaring so I doubt the trees will have so many leaves left; I'll upload pictures taken above ankle height in another post.

For now I am going back to sit by the fire.

The times they are a-changin'

2010-09-19T20:09:00.000+01:00

Kirby Misperton is now in the grip of Autumn's soggy breath. The wind is bending the trees and the rain is pattering against the windows like tap dancing insects skittering down the panes. So the year's great cycle moves on, and the evenings darken sooner. The temperature is falling and the open bedroom window may soon need to be shut.

In the village however life gets more interesting. While the seasons slow and darken, we villagers are programmed to think of September as the start of a new year, based on the academic cycle. As a result our most recent quizzes have been achieving high turnouts and enthusiastic participation. We are all starting to look forward to Halloween - the early pumpkins are already appearing in the greengrocer's shop in Malton. The great migrations of birds are under way, and winter edges closer as every skein flies overhead.

This is my favourite time of year, when darker evenings create a warm intimacy at home while there are new openings everywhere - from TV on rainy nights, to evening classes and village activities. Our forebears celebrated Harvest and the blessings of the earth; today we can still be thankful for all that we have received over the summer months and look forward to the autumn harvest still.

Summer break

2010-09-07T20:17:00.000+01:00

The hiatus over August was caused by family visits and summer holidays in the Lake District. Why is it called "The Lake District"? Who knows? Clearly there are several Lakes there, not just one. For examplle, you can see both Derwentwater and in the distance Bassenthwaite if you gasp and puff your unfit way to the top of Walla Crag and look back towards Keswick.

Anyway we stayed in a lovely little railway cottage on the outskirts of Keswick, meaning it took all of 5 or 10 minutes to walk into town. We did the usual things - walks, more walks and photos or painting, depending upon personal preference. It was lovely. We had good weather and peacefulness.

Derwentwater is a beautiful lake. I prefer it to Coniston or Windermere as it is generally quieter and more serene. It was however suffering from an algae bloom, presumably the same as has recently affected Windermere and postponed the Gerat North Swim.

We visited Castlerigg Stone Circle one particularly lovely day. What a very special place that is! At the top of a hill removed from everything else, is the neolithic circle which was the equivalent to a medieval cathedral. It is surrounded by an even greater stone circle formed by the mountains, and roofed by a bowl of clear bright sky. When the tourists all stop jabbering there is no sound except the wind and the birds.

We spent a blessed afternoon there, sitting on the grass painting and reading and breathing in the matchless air.

A couple of days later, towards the end of our week, we went to see Ashness Bridge, an altogether more modern stone construction, but still very beautiful. This was a scene of greater activity and exuberance, with the nosiy water crashing down in its headlong flight to the lake below.

Unfortunately for me it wasn't only the water that crashed and fell among the rocks and I ended up being taken down form the hillside by ambulance with a nasty head wound. Still, nothing was seriously dmaaged beyond pride, and at least it was the day before we came home. All praise to Cumbria Emergency Services and the kindly folk at Keswick Hospital who patched me up with good humour.

Sweet Adieu

2010-07-25T11:57:00.001+01:00

Hopefully the final word on the subject (although with moles you never know).

We caught out little visitor this morning after a night of havoc on the lawn and in the herb bed. I have to say I am very disappointed with the local feline cohort - some sniffing and watching, but no serious action.

Anyway, you will be pleased, I hope, to know that we have taken the little fellow to some farmland a mile or so out of the village as part of our Relocation Programme. I hope it flourishes there, and bothers no more gardens.

Here is a picture of it in its luxury 5 star transport, with some soil and a nice fresh juicy earthworm for the journey.

The velvet coated gentleman

2010-07-24T16:41:00.000+01:00

and here it is - the very same little beastie, now tunnelled under my herb bed. Perhaps if he goes deeper we shall reach an accommodation...

There is all the difference between passing through and moving in!

The moles are back in town

2010-07-24T14:57:00.001+01:00

OK, so while I was writing that last entry, Mr KM was cutting the grass outside. It seemed a bit uneven and he realised it was mole hills. He duly flattened them and as he started putting the mower away he could see the earth being moved up again by a familiar little fellow just beneath the surface.

This might just about have been the initial decalration of hostilities.

I am going to have to have a hcat with some neighbours for remedies.

Wren watch

2010-07-24T14:11:00.001+01:00

A baby wren fell out of the nest the other day. The parents were going mad trying to get it to fly. I'm not sure if they eventually managed it or whether one of the local cats resolved the problem in a more final way.

It's a joy having the youngsters around but so hard watching them try ot leave the nest, and sometimes not maing it.

We haven't seen any more moles either, and again this could be either good or bad news for the mole community. Who knows?

The world is uncertain, but life itself continues with individulas either surviving or feeding others.

How very morbid I am today! I think I will go and sit in the sun for a while.

Moley moley

2010-07-18T13:54:00.001+01:00

So we had a second mole-sighting this week, late one evening. Either it was the same mole as last time, and it has decided to move in behind our shed rather than go to the trouble of digging a nice snug tunnel, or it was another mole with disturbingly similar behavioural trends.

If the first scenario is true then we have a very disturbed animal on the loose in our back garden. This unnatural beast no longer is attracted to its usual subterranean habitat, but prefers to live the good life above ground. Where will it end? Are our children safe from this corruption to the natural order? Will moles start demanding equal rights with shrews and voles? Is a new kind of animal emerging - some kind of above-ground omnivore capable of withstanding the light of day (would that mean moles are turning into armadillos or something?)...

The second sceanrio is even more troubling. A whole army of unnatural omnivorous mammals poised to over-run the world, crunching of woodlice in full daylight and demonstrating a casual disregard for shed permimeters.

Others have suggested that they are two moles from the same nest, but I prefer to remain on the alert. They are more likely Sappers in the War on Terror. When they reveal their true purpose I shall be ready!

Why did the Owl 'owl?

2010-07-14T19:31:00.000+01:00

Because the Woodpecker would peck 'er!

I thank you very much!

Mole

2010-07-11T11:37:00.001+01:00

While doing laundry this morning I was alerted by my significant other to the activities of some birds in the garden. They appeared to be mobbing a mole as it ran across the lawn.

Well, that was odd on a number of levels. Firstly, a mole. Furthermore, a mole in broad daylight on top of the lawn instead of underneath. Further furthermore, a mole in broad daylight on top of the lawn instead of underneath, being attacked by birds.

I have not seen a real live mole before except on the televisual apparatus, so was surprised at how large it was. Not that it was some mutant subterranena mammal intent on smashing the house with its giant paws, but it was big enough to see quite clearly, scurrying its way across the grass, desperately trying to avoid some very irritable avians.

The only sane course of action, once the chance to get a photo had been discounted, was to refer to the wildlife books we have. It seems moles breed around March/April and gestate for about 4 weeks. Young leave the nest after about 5 weeks, more or less fully grown; an average male is about 5-6 inches long (it's an old book before we had centimetres, but I would estimate that's about 12-15 cm). This would fit into timescales of early July for a young mole seeking a new home. I also learned that youngsters may be driven from the nest by adults and travel overground for significant distances in search of new territory, so I suppose that was what was going on.

The ground is currently very hard as we have not had rain for a long time and with the soil here being basically solid clay, it won't be easy digging for little paws, no matter how evolutonarily adaptive they are.

I also assume that because moles will steal eggs to eat that was why the birds took such a dim view of the creature.

Anyway, I will now be keeping an eye out for mole hills in the garden, and may have to seek advice if they suddenly appear. Which reminds me of the Jasper Carrott sketch - you can see it on YouTube or below.

An afternoon at the park

2010-07-04T15:42:00.000+01:00

Being a Sunday and being at home, I took my daughter down to the park today. Being Kirby Misperton, we don't have the normal kind of park; we have an enormous theme park. I should probably emphasise for overseas readers, this is not the usual state of affairs for small English villages. That is one of the reasons our village is special.

So here are some the animals we said "Hello" to today.

The animals like watching the humans too.

Some find time to put on their mascara first.

Some prefer to think about dinner.

But overall it's a slower pace of life here in the country.

Working at home

2010-06-15T18:34:00.000+01:00

Working at home occasionally has many benefits - reduced carbon emissions, less time stuck on trains, plane and automobiles, decent coffee...

One of the things I do like is being able to enjoy my garden when I get up top make a cup of tea. And because my camera tends to be lying around I can take pictures of whatever has come to share it with me. Like these guys.

Conversely, one of the nice things about getting the train to meetings is that I can enjoy the views - but I can't get the photos. Today was a classic example with fields of oilseed rape dotted with poppies. Glorious colour in much appreciated sunshine.

The Solstice is creeping up on us, hidden in swathes of cloud and rain - but today she was out in all her glory. I'm sorry I can't show you but trust me, it was wonderful.

2010-06-12T13:46:00.002+01:00

Well wishers may be interested in a new blog started by another member of the village

http://kirbymisperton-wildlife.blogspot.com/

Enjoy!

Best of times, worst of times

2010-06-12T12:54:00.000+01:00

Far from the madding crowd in rural North Yorkshire, one might occasionally be inclined to indulge in the remembrance of times past, and believe life was happier and easier.

However, occasionally we are reminded that a life without modern draniage is an aspect of our glorious history best passed by, preferably with a handkershief pressed firmly to the olfactory organ...

This being North Yorkshire in June, we suffered a bit of a sudden downpour the other day, at which point we found our heroic but antiquated drains yet again unable to cope (do you hear me, Yorkshire Water, do you?) and Main Street took on the appearance of the Nile in flood. (I may have exaggerated a little here, but only for dramatic effect.)

This does not mean that there are not worthy traditions from a golden age worth preserving, and the roaming fish and chip van is surely one of them. Now sadly seen only rarely in the wild, we are privileged to host a member of the species each week. Lots of lovely traditional English calories to off-set the wretchedness of the drains.

And now it's summer we even get an ice cream van too - provided it can get through the floods!

Mmm. Tasty.

Going global

2010-06-06T16:37:00.001+01:00

As regular readers will be aware, the author has only recently returned to blogging and so has some catching up to do. During our extended break in service, Kirby Misperton has prospered on t'Interweb and is now available for view at a number of sites. For your convenience I list a couple here:

Satellite views are now quite recent and detailed whereas before we were hidden behind a misty veil of poorly resolved imagery. Behold!

http://www.geonames.org/2645336/kirby-misperton.html#revision=1

Furthermore, we have been added to the all-encompassing Street View; to get into the main village go left at the roundabout...

View Larger Map

Have fun strolling around our village and please don't drop any litter.

Noisy neighbours

2010-06-06T10:55:00.000+01:00

I dod not know wrens could be quite so noisy! There is one trying to start up a nest in a nest box in the garden - and boy, is there a lot of shouting going on.

I would provide a photo, but the things I did know about wrens - that they are small, fast and very neutral in colour - means this is proving problematic. However, I have a man on the case, and hope to bring a picture in due course.

Our other nest box appears unused this year; last year there were coal tits. So far the main interest has come from a couple of wasps, but we don't want that sort of thing going on, so have been discouraging them.

The other main activity in the garden has been more vegetative, as various plants try to catch up from the late snow and frost. The climbing rose has suffered terribly although the clematis growing through it is doing fine. But everything is very late. As an interim measure, I bring you the lilies in the pond
.

And while I am at here are some bluebells, because everyone loves bluebells!

Visitor

2010-05-31T09:54:00.000+01:00

Despite the fact that I have failed to update for a long time (new job, long story) we have still been leading the Village Life, doing the usual round of fund-raising through quizzes, shared meals and raffles. We also enjoyed unseasonably hot weather followed by a temperature drop of more than 10 degrees Celsius in a day! Gotta love the the British weather...

Then the other day we had a visitor and I just had to share! This is a friend from down the road who recently decided to make the rounds and come calling.

Anyway, having broken the ice and started to talking to you again I will make an effort to update a little more frequently from now on.

We had snow

2009-12-19T15:14:00.000Z

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

2009-11-18T18:14:00.000Z

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

2009-11-14T14:32:00.000Z

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

2009-11-08T16:29:00.000Z

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

2009-10-18T19:09:00.000+01:00

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

2009-10-04T18:50:00.000+01:00

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

2009-09-16T21:57:00.000+01:00

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.

Autumn Sojourn

2009-09-13T14:36:00.000+01:00

The past week I have spent down south in Hertfordshire, on a training course for work. It reminded me how lovely other parts of the country are, especially as we were blessed with the kind of lovely late summer weather that so often seems to accompany the children's return to school. We stayed in a conference centre set amid several acres of woodland, inhabited by deer descended from the herds maintained for King Henry VIII. Good old King Hal liked nothing better than hunting deer when he wasn't behaving outrageously with women or picking fights with the religious establishment.

As well as being the home of Tudor princesses (I think both Hal's girls spent some time there), the estate was a favourite haunt of the young princess Victoria before she was called to greatness. There is a tree in the grounds allegedly planted by her, although it didn't look too old to us - perhaps she only planted it later in her life...

The trees across the country have started to turn their colours recently, and most importantly the horse chestnuts have been producing conkers ready for the tournaments due to take place in numerous school playgrounds throughout the land.

Kirby Misperton is lucky to be the home of some pretty substantial specimens, and the pavements are becoming littered with the spiky shells and glossy, glowing fruits dropping from their branches. The regular reader may recall that I am rather fond of horse chestnuts in general; at this time of year they remind me of that "back-to-school" feeling - new classroom, new teachers, new topics, and time to start endless rehearsals for the end of term Christmas concert and almost unbearable wait for Christmas Day. To me this is a more real new year than the one in January.

The other big signpost of the seasons was the Last Night of the Proms, which indeed happened last night, as rowdy and rambunctious as ever, despite the lack of sea shanties and Hornpipe. We were more than compensated by the fireworks and by Sir David Attenborough playing the floor polisher (Sir Malcolm Arnold's "Grand, Grand Overture") - and the weather was good enough for us to have a barbecue beforehand.

All the old seasonal traditions will soon be kicking in: Harvest Festival, putting back the clock, Hallowe'en, Bonfire Night and then Advent. Somehow the long summer days seemed relatively empty; with the colder, darker nights we need to huddle together with ceremonies and rituals to keep the wolves outside.

So here's to the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, apple crumbles and wellington boots, crisp mornings and bright blue skies, less grass mowing and more bonfire building. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

The Rolling English Road

2009-08-30T12:17:00.000+01:00

Partly because I can't wander the roads as freely as I'd like just now (lower lip quivers pathetically), I have been thinking of a poem by G K Chesterton that I came across in my poetry-reading teens...

I took the photo at Kirkham Abbey a couple of years ago.

Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode,
The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road.
A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles round the shire,
And after him the parson ran, the sexton and the squire;
A merry road, a mazy road, and such as we did tread
The night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy Head.

I knew no harm of Bonaparte and plenty of the Squire,
And for to fight the Frenchman I did not much desire;
But I did bash their baggonets because they came arrayed
To straighten out the crooked road an English drunkard made,
Where you and I went down the lane with ale-mugs in our hands,
The night we went to Glastonbury by way of Goodwin Sands.

His sins they were forgiven him; or why do flowers run
Behind him; and the hedges all strengthening in the sun?
The wild thing went from left to right and knew not which was which,
But the wild rose was above him when they found him in the ditch.
God pardon us, nor harden us; we did not see so clear
The night we went to Bannockburn by way of Brighton Pier.

My friends, we will not go again or ape an ancient rage,
Or stretch the folly of our youth to be the shame of age,
But walk with clearer eyes and ears this path that wandereth,
And see undrugged in evening light the decent inn of death;
For there is good news yet to hear and fine things to be seen,
Before we go to Paradise by way of Kensal Green.

G K Chesterton

After the summer

2009-08-29T13:56:00.006+01:00

It's been a long, grey summer. It has also been an unintentionally quiet one. I had planned to bring you thrilling tales of Highland derring-do, and dreamy missives from beside the misty loch; unfortunately I have damaged both my plantar fascia so our trip to the Scottish Highlands, while lovely, was somewhat less mobile for me than I could have wished. There are only so many photos of views from the cottage you can take.

We stayed near Inveraray,

close to a waterfall and surrounded by mountains. Loch Fyne was nearby, and it was an easy drive to Oban for the distillery (delicious - I do like a single malt), and to Ardfern

for a boat trip to see the sea life around Jura, where George Orwell wrote "1984".

The sound of the Falls was a constant, soothing drone while I sat reading in the cottage and the rest of the family got tired and muddy tramping the hills.

Scotland is one of my favourite places to go on holiday. It's heart-stoppingly gorgeous, friendly, fascinating and varied. Consider if you will the options we had before us: the Highlands and Islands were the focus of our trip this year, but we could have gone to Edinburgh for the Castle and Old Town, the Fringe or the main Festival and Tattoo; to Glasgow for the 13 Museums including St Mungo's Museum of Religious Life and Art and the Burrell Collection; followed the Whisky Trail; gone north for the Aurora Borealis or the Loch Ness monster; in fact I had better stop before the Internet runs out! You will have gathered I like the place.

It's just that I wouldn't want to live there. It was a joy to come home. The rural areas are very rural and the cities are very, well, urban. They are both great to visit. However, what I want from life is a blend of the two - and I am sure it exists somewhere in Scotland although I haven't found it yet - where I can live quietly in the country but, in under an hour, get to a decent facility with reasonable choice or for an occasional shot of culture. Or a hospital. Or have a reasonable chance of an Internet connection. I like to take the middle path, never fully town nor country mouse, neither yin nor yang, but able to sample the full range of experiences life has to offer. I am not sure if that is indecisive or just keeping my options open...

Meanwhile, all praise to my local general store, Yates, which ordered specially my new boots to support my poor feet. I'm breaking them in now.
My doctor kindly explained that I will have to wear cushioned shoes now, probably forever, and that as DMs were made just for that he recommended purple. I love the NHS.

Moon thoughts

2009-07-21T20:56:00.004+01:00

Strictly speaking, this is about something as far from Kirby Misperton as you can get, but it's my blog so I can do what I want!

Forty years ago today (because I was too little to stay up the night before) I saw men walking on the moon, and it was amazing.

To celebrate, therefore, I thought I would share with you a picture of an early morning moon in the village from 2003, against the old ash tree that was felled to build some new houses. It seemed appropriate somehow.

There and Back Again

2009-07-15T11:12:00.005+01:00

Recently we had a bit of a drive around and the journey brought home yet again how great a place Yorkshire is to live. As we did not stop en route I can't share pictures, but I'll take you along the way with us.

Firstly we had to go up to Northallerton to the County Records Office - a little bit of local research on both the village and our own house. We took the scenic route - avoiding Sutton Bank as we needed to pick up diesel. However, it meant we enjoyed a drive via York and then up the A19 instead, which has its own views and which we usually miss when heading up north. We didn't miss seeing the White Horse though!

The White Horse at Kilburn is not a neolithic entity like its cousin in Uffington. It is a Victorian creation (or Folly) which is maintained today by a dedicated group of people, and achieved brief notoriety when it was defaced, along with Uffington, as part of the protest against the Bill outlawing hunting.

Northallerton itself is another town similar to our own Malton, but seat of the North Yorkshire County Council. The Records Office presents a humble face to the public, but I am assured by staff that there is in fact a genuine Tardis behind the public building, and certainly the collection housed there must take up considerably more space than the frontage would indicate. We had a good day and found some great records, both photographic and written; I was particularly taken with the Servants' Wages Book (although it turned out this related to a different hall owned by the same family as owned the Hall at Kirby Misperton). The other treasure was the School Log Book from the 1870s up to 1916. I am definitely going to go back to get more on that!

The following day we drove from Northallerton to Lancaster - from White Rose to Red Rose country. But my goodness, I always forget how far west Yorkshire goes! We drove along the A684 through the Dales, past endless dry stone walls and boulder-strewn streams, fields dotted with sheep, and the Settle-Carlisle railway viaduct at Ribblehead.

Lancaster, whatever its historic rivalry with York, is a lovely old city with a 1960s university, a mirror image in fact of York itself. Coming home we took the alternative but equally lovely route via the A59 all the way to York, including a detour through Knaresborough by mistake. Mea culpa!

That allowed us to look at the chequered houses though, as we drove past them and Mother Shipton's Cave. I shall have to write about Mother S. another day I think...but here are some of the houses from a visit a few years ago.

The best bit of this trip, though, was collecting my son.

What the Romans did for us

2009-06-28T14:37:00.004+01:00

well, maybe...

Today we took the opportunity to have a bit of drive on the way home from Malton. At this time of year the hedgerows are alive with activity, with swarms of little brown birds flocking about the road as we drove along. The actual verges and hedges are flowering abundantly - cow parsley, meadowsweet, a million kinds of grass, and bright blue patches of cranesbill. In the fields, there are scarlet swathes of poppies, and through the villages cascades of roses in the gardens. We wound along over innumerable humpback bridges of stone, brick, concrete and iron, all seemingly on blind 90 degree turns to the road. We crossed rills, becks, ditches and rivers, some more than once; this is a swampy land which remembers when it was Lake Pickering. One of the old names for our village was Kirby O' Carr (pronounced Ow-ker), "carr" being another word for marsh.

We enjoyed our drive, but we had a purpose beyond trying to explode with hayfever. We were looking for points where the local roads and footpaths followed the route of Wade's Causeway, with a vague plan to see if we could plot a walk along it one day.

Wade's Causeway runs from Amotherby to Whitby, passing over the River Rye at Newsham Bridge and driving north via the Roman camp at Cawthorne to the coast. Parts of the road can still be seen, especially on Wheeldale Moor, testament to an engineering prowess which built things fit to serve an eternal empire. The history of the Causeway is uncertain - the Romans clearly constructed a road, but it may have been on top of an older trackway, at least in parts.

Roman roads are known for one thing at least beyond the simple miracle of their endurance, and that is their straightness. English country roads, on the other hand, are not very straight, rolling drunkenly from place to place. However, the Romans were not daft, and knew they had to skirt some obstacles; they just tended to go from point to point in as straight a line as possible, although each point may not have been far apart. As a result our lanes and streets often coincide for stretches with their ancient routes.

If the Romans did reuse older tracks, then they were likely created by the giant Wade for his wife Bella, to help her move her livestock across the moors. Or so some say. Wade and Bella were local giants and built Pickering Castle (motte and bailey style) and Old Mulgrave Castle, as well as creating Blakey Topping. Stories about Wade can be traced back to very early roots, although never for certain, and Bella has been linked to the Celtic goddess Brigit (of our old friends, the Bridestones).

And so we live in an ancient landscape, which in places chooses to show its face to those who look.

Sunshine and showers

2009-06-21T14:16:00.004+01:00

Traditionally that about sums it up for the British Summer, of course; and that is because it's true. We have been swinging wildly between blazing sun, followed by frequent sightings of lobster-coloured people, and cold, rainy days, with the concomitant hordes of blue-skinned masses. In fact, with the rollercoaster temperatures, our skins can change from the one to the other so quickly we may cause epileptic fits from the strobe effect.

One sunny day I was able to sit in the garden and count the bird varieties, from sparrow to sparrowhawk. Our swallows, for those interested, are doing very well in their nest over our kitchen window. Fortunately the mess they are making of the bottles and cans in the recycling box beneath them is fully biodegradable, so no problems there. The car is beginning to look like it's in camouflage kit though, with lots of whitish patches streaking across it. Ah, Nature red in tooth and claw!

All in all, a colourful time of the year.

The two main events to report, however, are less drenched in rustic charm, although provide the reader with a flavour of life in the country as she is lived, rather than as she is read about in glossy magazines.

Firstly, Google has updated our digital presence with a new satellite view of the village including all the latest building developments. Obviously we aren't able to express outrage about Street View encroachments yet, because we haven't been photographed. I'm sure lots of people are looking forward to being incandescent about it just as soon as Google finds us.

Secondly, we had lots of heavy drilling plant trundling through the village last week because of a new gas well starting up nearby. There are considerable gas reserves underneath our feet, being drilled out through nearby fields. We had a gas leak a couple of years back (very unusual) and had to call out various emergency services. I was particularly gratified to receive a thorough check-up for fume inhalation by some very pleasant firemen - but I digress...

So, we continue to play our part in the important endeavours of global mapping and exploitation of natural resources with full vim and vigour.

Meanwhile, I was thrilled to spot a bullfinch in the front garden. In case you thought I could resist putting up a photo, I couldn't. Here it is, hastily snapped through the window before it flew away. Very pretty, and hopefully sufficiently rural to restore the balance. Happy Solstice!

June Visitors

2009-06-07T15:18:00.002+01:00

While I have been rambling on over the last few weeks about our gorgeous swallows, I have neglected to pay due attention to other summer visitors - the human tourists. These are now starting to appear in increasing numbers, livening up the area with their merry cries. Whatever one thinks of tourists - and they are a mixed blessing, which I try to bear in mind when touristing myself - there is no doubt that our roads become more dangerous as they fill up with caravans driven by people not used to towing large objects and unfamiliar with the vagaries of our local routes.

Sadly we have had a clutch of accidents already on or around Golden Hill near Malton, including fatalities. Dear friends, if you come to visit our lovely area please be aware that the roads at least show no kindness to visitors (or indeed to locals who fail to show the proper respect). If you are not used to the hills, the bends and the views, then take it easy. It isn't going anywhere, so you don't need to hurry.

Weekly wildlife

2009-05-17T20:26:00.004+01:00

We have had quite a week of wildlife encounters, most of which I failed to photograph. You will just have to use your imagination in picturing the scene. However, the sharp-eyed reader will already have spotted some feathered friends here, so I should start with those - even though they were the last encounters chronologically.

Indeed, the swallows are back, and apparently once again nesting in the new site they found last year after losing our old barn. These two sweeties look to me like youngsters from that brood; I'm pretty sure the parents were a bit older than these.

Earlier in the week we ran into a hold-up when a group of lambs decided to wander into the middle of the road on Strensall Common. I was really sorry not to have the camera. Every time we inched the car forward to move them, they just ran on down the middle of the road. Then their mum called them and they wandered off.

We have had quite a few hold-ups generally, due to tractors, caravans and lambs. However, with the oilseed rape now flowering spectacularly, we have been driving through fields of gold, bright even on the rainy days. However, if we have to stop for long we pretty much always get to see a rabbit; one of the roundabouts had quite a few baby bunnies sunning themselves early in the morning. And the local barn owls are very busy at most times of day just now, so we have been seeing them gliding across the road a few times.

All this frantic activity is quite exhausting, so I'll leave you with another picture of our lovely swallows. It's a bit sad the drainpipe is coming out of its head, but sneaking up on it to take the picture is hard enough, so don't expect composition as well!

Early walk

2009-05-09T17:10:00.004+01:00

This morning both I and the Significant Other were awake at our weekday time of 6 am, and ready to get up. Outside, the birds were chortling and the sun was shining, so obviously we went for a walk. And just as obviously I took my camera. You just never know what you might see.

When I was a child my parents lived in a house opposite a row on horse chestnuts, and I loved those trees: shady in summer, conkers in autumn, and glorious candles of flower in spring. We have a couple of horse chestnuts in the village, and here is one of them. Gorgeous!

Just around the corner, near the church, there was more blossom, this time on the laburnum, set off nicely by the railings. These are Grade II listed, along with some of the buildings in the Flamingoland Park which date back some time. The Park was originally the home of the Lord of the Manor, and has some interesting architecture underneath the modern accretions.

Much of the estate was sold off in 1938, and further sales happened later after the 2nd World War. The houses in the village were mostly owned by the Lord of the Manor until then, so our house, for example, only became freehold in the 1960s, and we are only the second family to own it directly. You can see some of the sale information at the Kirby Misperton History website.

Further along the road, the oilseed rape was in full flower as well. It causes quite a lot of trouble for various allergies, such as hayfever, although strangely it seems to be the one thing that does not set my own hayfever off. Anyway, it was shiny and bright in the early sun so I snapped away, but I'm afraid my camera doesn't do it justice.

For some time now I have been trying to get a picture of one of the barn owls in the area, and today I caught one of them at breakfast, being watched by a local bunny. They were a long way off, so the picture is not clear, but for now I am happy with what I did manage to get. The bird was being coy about the camera, and had its back to us; but it peeked over its shoulder and so its fate was sealed. Maybe it was worried the bunny might get a taste for small rodent instead of cabbage.

May at last

2009-05-07T18:52:00.005+01:00

Well, dear friends, here we are in the merry month of May and time to catch up on the fortunes of those of us here in Misper Towers.

The world of work has been rather intense resulting in me neglecting my bloggerly duties; but just when you thought it was safe to return to the blogosphere (how do people know it's a sphere, and not, say, a dodecahedron?) - I emerge, blinking, from my dusty office, seeking the invigoration of fresh pixels.

Well, what has been happening? We had a rather nice rainbow drop in to celebrate the end of April.
A hasty snap was all I could manage, so apologies for the rather dodgy quality.

But, splendid as rainbows are, the real excitement is the opening of a second pub. I'm not sure if we are quite ready for the cut-throat business practices of the urban commercial environment, and this has certainly caused quite a bit of comment.

As a small village - probably no more than 250-300 drinking age adults (if you include the residential site at Flamingoland) - it seems unlikely that 2 pubs would be essential, or even viable. However, with the volume of traffic between Easter and September, the proposition changes completely. Over a million people visit in a year, and some of them are quite thirsty. Frequently their children are also thirsty, if only for sugary pop. They all usually need to be fed, and many prefer to sit down in more comfortable surroundings, particularly if it offers a large TV to amuse the young ones. So it remains to be seen whether these summer migrant flocks can sustain 2 establishments sufficiently for them to remain operational through the winter.

My own researches have been positive, however, as the new pub sells Black Sheep. Mmm.

Peaceful holiday

2009-04-13T15:24:00.003+01:00

I hope you have had a peaceful time over the Easter holiday, whether you observe it or not. We spent it quietly, visiting friends in the village and family nearby, consuming cake and chocolate, tea and wine. The weather did not let us down - traditional holiday grey with spatterings of rain. As a result my best-laid plans vis-a vis the ice cream van did not bear fruit; when it came calling along the lane I really wanted hot chocolate and warmed hot cross buns dripping butter onto sticky hands rather than ice cream running freezing fingers through my veins. Ah well, maybe next week.

Meanwhile, the blossom is coming out on the pear tree and the hawthorn, and the fish in the garden ponds are starting to show an interest in feeding again after their long winter sleepiness. Despite the damp and grey, we have had the windows open and fresh air pouring into the house. Being able to take deep breaths of spring air is so lovely; I can almost feel the sap running through me. If I'm not careful I'll start to send out new shoots.

Time to eat!

2009-04-09T19:54:00.004+01:00

For anyone who is interested, there is now a Kirby Misperton Kitchen vegetarian community on LiveJournal (see blogs list on this page). Those of you who fancy sharing recipes which don't involve eating things that have faces may wish to look at it.

If you do eat things with faces, that's fine too. But those recipes won't get added!

The first ice cream van of summer

2009-04-05T18:05:00.006+01:00

I don't know about you, but when I was a child I used to listen out for the first cuckoo of spring, or watch for the first swallows. In fact, until last year watching for the swallows was a favourite pastime as they used to nest in our garage. There they would raise a brood or two, teaching them to fly, swooping down at us if we looked like going too near to the nest site, and generally entertaining us through the summer months.

In fact here is one of the little scamps, taking a break on our dustbin. Apologies for the quality of the picture - it was a hasty snap through the kitchen window. Those little chaps don't stay still for long, I can tell you.

However, that wasn't what I was going to tell you about.

Today we had our first true visitor of summer - the ice cream van. It has been a beautiful day today. Laundry has dried on the washing line, and warm and sunny weather has been enjoyed by all. With the opening of the local tourist attraction, traffic has increased exponentially along the lane, and strangers have been seen wandering through the village. But the final clinching proof was that van.

The ice cream van first came one Sunday a couple of years ago, the driver having taken a wrong turn at the roundabout. Now it's a regular on Sundays during the tourist season, and much appreciated. So we had a cornet, and felt like winter was in retreat for a while. Next week, if it comes back, I might even lash out and have a "99". Mmmm.

Paradise is in Yorkshire!

2009-03-31T13:43:00.005+01:00

We recently started to get an organic vegetable box delivered; we used to get one years ago, but haven't had one recently. However, I finally got around to trying out the offering from Paradise Farm, a local farm which delivers boxes in this area.

Obviously this is not really an ad for Paradise Farm - although if you are local and want to try it out, I would say I think they offer a good deal. The thing is, I really like getting a veg box. Under this scheme we only get local veg, so it's seasonal; in the past, with other boxes, we did have veg shipped in from various foreign places, mainly the Netherlands. However, the thing about seasonal veg is that you need to come up with lots of ways to cook the same thing, and in the winter that tends to be root vegetables.

Personally I enjoy the challenge, and as we are all pretty fond of a good curry, it isn't too difficult to come up with 101 Ways with Swede. As Spring is making itself felt now we are starting to see other items such as rocket, wild garlic and Jerusalem artichokes.

The other benefit, apart from the alleged health one, is that I am saving money on groceries. I hadn't realised how expensive their veg was!

But I wouldn't be managing as well if it wasn't for yon t'Interweb providing lots of recipes to try. Progress, eh? This is proof it's not all bad.

March winds

2009-03-28T17:49:00.004Z

We have been experiencing a breezy few days here in KM. Finally, people say, as they struggle against the feisty gusts, we are getting proper March weather. For as we all know from childhood, "March winds and April showers bring forth May flowers".

The birds have clung to the feeders, blown about like flags. Their approaches have been erratic as a burst of atmospheric energy catches them in mid-flight. With colder temperatures as well, they still need the boost from the peanuts and seeds we put out to encourage them in building nests and getting up to what birds get up to at this time of year.

Elsewhere the world is filling up with daffodils and crocuses and all kinds of bright spring bulbs. Our lilac is starting to show tips of green amid the squabbling sparrows. And when the sun does break through, you can feel the warmth on your back.

The clocks change tonight, so we lose an hour's sleep, but will be rewarded with longer evenings and a promise that summer is waiting in the wings. The world moves on.

Books to the door

2009-03-14T11:50:00.005Z

I happened to take a day off work yesterday and so was reminded of another rural service we receive, and often overlook: the mobile library, which arrived after lunch and parked outside the post office.

This particular vehicle is my own personal idea of heaven - a large van stuffed full of books which comes to my house on a regular basis. Even better, the driver knows his customers so well he can recommend new books for them to try and make sure that there is a good selection aboard to suit their tastes.

The van is equipped with a lift to help those with achy knees and wobbly legs clamber in and out again safely. The less mobile readers rise in a stately fashion to the van's hallowed interior, and later descend clutching their new armful of reading material. As the van only comes every three weeks, you may need to take quite a pile of books away; and if you can't manage the next scheduled visit, you can send a message to have the loan extended, or ask someone to drop them off for you.

When I do get the chance to go to the mobile library, it's always a good time to meet with the neighbours who are also around that day, and to catch up on some gossip. Our latest entertainment is the possible sighting of a large black animal, which some claim was a puma, while others subscribe to the view that it was Hamish, a substantial feline who lives at the top of the village. I have to admit to being in the Hamish camp myself, but I'm happy to be proved wrong.

Back to the library van though. This is a job I would love to have. As a child I wanted to be a librarian (based on my view of the very nice ladies who helped me find books for school projects). The idea of being able to potter around the countryside in a van full of the latest bestsellers and classic volumes appeals to me immensely. I like reading books, and I like talking to people about reading books - or just talking!

I'm sure it's not quite as much fun as it sounds, but it is one of two ambitions not yet achieved, although it is more likely to be fulfilled than the other ambition, which is to go into space and see the world from outside and the stars in all their glory. If I could go in a library-spaceship, all the better.

The tale of the lone poplar (and other trees)

2009-03-07T13:33:00.008Z

Following my previous post, here is more information on the fate of the lone poplar in the 1911 picture.

This tree continued in its place until the late 1940s or early 1950s, when it was finally cut down. For those interested (hello, Bruce!) here are some pictures of the day it was felled, with thanks to a former resident who has provided a number of pictures for the great Kirby Misperton Archive.

As the village has grown a number of trees have been lost, some more lamented than others. A main feature of the street until recently was a large willow opposite where this poplar stood. It regularly entangled overhead cables and collared passing pedestrian with its lanky tendrils. However, for all its enormous bulk it was no match for the developers, and is no more. In its place we have a petite sapling of indeterminate species which is, to put it politely, failing to thrive at present.

Other developments also took out this rather lovely old ash tree not long ago.

However, just a the residents of Kirby Misperton come and go, so too do the trees. Near where the poplar stood we now have a winter flowering cherry, which is a real treat on gloomy winter days, and a little further along, a beautiful deep purple lilac tree. Time and trees wait for no one.

Then and Now

2009-02-28T15:30:00.003Z

Some of those who know Kirby Misperton well might say that the village has changed enormously over the last few years. Certainly since the early 1990s it has increased in terms of homes somewhere in the order of 50%. Over half of those new homes have been added in the past 3 years alone.

However, when comparing pictures of the village a hundred years ago, the main difference seems to be that we have discovered colour and electricity poles. The old picture is a postcard from 1911, and the modern photo is one taken in 2004. I'm not sure the potholes in the road aren't the originals - they probably have preservation orders on them.

The nitpickers out there will note, of course, that even since 2004 we have seen the removal of the overhead electricity cables and accompanying pole, so that ironically the view today is closer to the 1911 picture than ever. Such is progress.

The birds are back in town

2009-02-22T13:05:00.004Z

Well, after all the unbridled excitement following the rooks' visit yesterday, imagine the frenzy this morning when we saw our dear old woodpecker again! And by frenzy, I mean cries of "Where's the camera? Quick! Hurry up!", accompanied by thundering boots racing up and down the stairs.

Anyway, eventually we tracked it down and Himself got a lovely shot of the woodpecker and some goldfinches stuffing their beaks under the ash trees. And here they are. Just look at the goldfinch's wings - drop dead gorgeous, isn't it?

Beautiful day

2009-02-21T18:00:00.005Z

It has been another beautiful day today, after some drizzly and grey days, making it seem Spring may be around the corner for real.

The bird feeders were also attracting a range of visitors - today's special guests being a pair of rooks.
This evening we were treated to a gorgeous sunset, which I can't do justice to - but here is a rough idea. It was much better in real life, but isn't that always the way?

Snowdrops

2009-02-17T19:07:00.003Z

It has been a bit busy recently in Kirby Misperton Towers, so I am late in posting this picture of the snowdrops I took a couple of weeks back. But here it is anyway. I love snowdrops; they are the first sign of winter coming to an end, just when you are getting tired of it. So these flowers, and the pesky blackbird waking me up this morning with the first dawn chorus of 2009, make me feel like the whole world is turning over in its sleep and muttering about getting up soon.

It's true - country living is better for you!

2009-02-06T17:42:00.003Z

Who would have thought it - now they can prove that the city makes your brain hurt!

"Now scientists have begun to examine how the city affects the brain, and the results are chastening. Just being in an urban environment, they have found, impairs our basic mental processes. After spending a few minutes on a crowded city street, the brain is less able to hold things in memory, and suffers from reduced self-control. While it's long been recognized that city life is exhausting -- that's why Picasso left Paris -- this new research suggests that cities actually dull our thinking, sometimes dramatically so."

Pictures of nature can be enough to help us through the tiresomeness of city life - so here are a couple from the garden last summer to contribute to your health and well-being, with all my love.

Freezing February

2009-02-02T09:42:00.004Z

February got off to a good, cold start with Russian snow roaring across the North Sea to cover a good proportion of the country. Here in North Yorkshire, naturally, we joined in the fun. However, Kirby Misperton is only lightly blanketed - with the mouth-watering promise of heavy snow later today to be cleared by heavy rain tomorrow. Nice.

Anyway, as the school bus couldn't get through, youngest son went out for a walk and took a couple of pictures, which he let me share here.

This is St Laurence Church. I think I have mentioned before that it is built on Saxon foundations, although obviously this building is mostly much newer. At this point we can use terms such as "picturesque" to describe the scene...

Heading out of the village the landscape usually opens up, but today the view is limited to the near distance.

Intermittently it disappeared altogether as another flurry of snow swept in.

Heading back into the village presented a rather bleak picture. You can see how the weather has worsened, as this is just near the church - where the earlier photo showed blue skies.

As I am writing, the view out of the window looks a bit like a television displaying static!

Wherever you are, I hope you are warm and cosy, and if it is snowing, that you can enjoy the view, if not a good snowball fight.

Yorkshire Woodlands

2009-01-29T15:53:00.003Z

As I have mentioned once or twice, we are blessed to live an area of tremendous beauty. But we cannot take it for granted.

For anyone who wants to help preserve our local natural heritage, take a look at The Woodland Trust's Yorkshire and Humberside information (it will download a PDF file). We have a concentration of historic woodland in this area, and it needs your help!

Beating the January blues

2009-01-24T17:46:00.002Z

Although I enjoy the rural idyll as much as the next Barbour-jacketed, green welly-wearing reader of Yorkshire Life, there are occasions when, to paraphrase Sam Johnson, I feel that being tired of the city is to be tired of life. To that end I must confess a wholly urban pleasure, available virtually on the doorstep of any Misper-folk of like mind: the local Designer Centre.

It is a cathedral to consumerism, with gleaming shop windows filled with the most useless and over-priced esoteria imaginable. So imagine the delight of being able to wander the hallowed halls on a whim, as if popping to the local corner shop. In fact, given our geographical constraints, it almost is the local corner shop.

Much to my amusement and great delight, my sophisticated London friend visits me every year with the express purpose of a shopping blowout for her birthday treat. Needless to say, my own access is less restricted, and so last week a neighbour and I felt that after a day of toil in our respective home-offices we deserved a spot of retail therapy.

There were some new shops since my last visit, which is always interesting, and of course Zavvi was no more. The shops were uncrowded, as it was mid-week, so we had a very relaxing time trying on clothes we were not going to buy and keeping the shop assistants occupied. Most importantly though, Thornton's cafe was open for sticky cakes and hot chocolate while we pondered the advisability of purchasing a particularly gorgeous but expensive pair of trousers (no, of course we didn't get them!). I did happen to acquire some side plates to match a dinner service, but that was fairly incidental.

All in all, it was a great way to beat the January blues.

Pencils at the ready!

2009-01-07T20:20:00.003Z

Heads up, Misper-folk!

The next quiz is this coming Friday (9 Jan) - as you will no doubt have seen from the large notice by the roundabout. Make it your new year's resolution to come along and be sociable!

Usual rules - bring your own bottle, but nibbles are provided. The quiz offers a small prize for the winning team and there is also a raffle. But do it for the honour.

If you are lucky I might even have finished writing it in time...

New Year Ramble

2009-01-04T18:49:00.006Z

Over the holiday I have managed to get out for a walk on a few days - always the same one though. It's a circular walk round from the village, through the farm on the hill and back into the village again. Most times I have done it recently I have seen the barn owl which is nesting at the farm; so one morning I took the camera. Although I saw the owl again it was too far away and too fast for me to get a picture. So I took some others instead, and thought I would share them here.

Here we go along the lane towards Little Barugh, pausing to look across towards the moors...

...then in through the farm gate. Today, the gate was open, but if it is closed you can always use the stile instead.
Through the gate you can turn and look across the field to Little Barugh.

Walking along the track you get a good view of the trees which line the ridge. The walk itself takes you up the hill and down the other side, and of course, back up again at the end.

Once past the trees you come to the farm yard proper, where the owl lives.

It had flown off around the corner, but was gone by the time I got there...

so I went back down the other side of the hill, looking towards Habton...

and glancing across to the rest of the tree line which marks the climb back up again on the road.

It's not a long walk - about 40 minutes - but very pretty. I hope you enjoyed it too. Because it was about 9 o'clock the sun was still fairly low, so that's why there are silhouettes everywhere.

Friendship Cake

2008-12-30T11:26:00.003Z

Last night we were visited by some neighbours who brought us a friendship cake. Well, in fact what they brought us was a frothing cup of yeast-based mixture which will grow into a friendship cake over the next few days.

So now we are having fun thinking about who might receive our own frothing cup of yeasty friendship, once the mixture has grown and is ready to pass on.

In the meantime we are planning which board games to play when friends come round on New Year's Eve. Unfortunately the cake won't be ready by then, so we'll just have to make do with other goodies instead.

The card trail

2008-12-22T19:13:00.003Z

On Saturday afternoon I decided it was high time to deliver the Christmas cards to the neighbours. And as it wasn't raining or freezing, I volunteered to wander around the village putting cards in letter boxes. I'm heroic like that, you know.

I am also totally unoriginal. As I strolled up and down Main Street I met various neighbours doing the same thing (and so swapped cards with them on the spot). A surprising number of people were out and about so it took me a while to get around all the houses because I kept stopping to gossip.

All this meant I had to leave all the other jobs for my long-suffering family to complete while I was on my rounds. They were getting ready to put up decorations, you see, because we always do ours quite late. I like it that way as I would be sick of them long before Christmas otherwise, although I doubt our children will ever forgive us.

When I got home we had a pot of tea and I filled everyone in on the latest news. What a brilliant way to spend a gloomy winter afternoon.

Feathered friends

2008-12-14T17:27:00.004Z

It has to be said that one of the advantages of winter is being able to see the birds who flock down onto the bird feeders we have hanging in our garden. In summer months these are generally obscured by pesky leaves, but now, when branches are bare, we can get a clear view of the feathery feasters.

We find it hard to miss the wood pigeons which waddle around on the grass picking up the fallen food at all times of the year. In fact, they are so enormous we sometimes mistake them for a much larger animal, such as a rabbit or cat, when catching a movement out of the corner of the eye. They are far too corpulent to struggle up to the heights of the bird table; in fact, I'm not sure our bird table is sufficiently robust to support them, so that is just as well. Otherwise I expect we would wake up some mornings to find one wedged tight like Pooh Bear in Rabbit's front door.

Plenty of starlings and sparrows drop by, along with a robin, various finches and other small birds. The village sparrowhawk has also been known to enjoy a snack from a kindly villager's bird table (in the form of one of the aforementioned species).

Today, however, included my personal favourites, the goldfinches. Goldfinches are especially fond of thistle seeds. Before the new houses were built behind us, the field was full of thistles, and therefore of goldfinches, as well as optimistic cats. Of course, when the thistles were seeding the village was engulfed in a floating seed heads like summer snow (or nuclear fallout in a second rate film with limited special effects budget - you know the sort I mean). This also meant that our gardens were all blessed with a full crop of thistles, unless we paid the price of eternal vigilance.

However, with the field now full of bricks in the forms of houses, the gradens are safer, and the goldfinches rely on us to feed their habit. And here they are, stuffing down the thistle seed. Enjoy.

Gateshead Quays

2008-12-11T18:24:00.003Z

I just got home from a trip to Newcastle for work - a conference at the Baltic Centre on the quay. I won't bore you with conference details, but I did enjoy the walk from the Centre back up to Newcastle Central Station. You walk across the rather lovely Millennium Bridge, and as it was just beginning to get dark, we saw the lights coming on and reflecting in the river.

Crossing the bridge also made me think of another great icon in this part of the world - the Angel of the North. I just love stopping to see it whenever we go up (or, indeed, down) past Gateshead. It is just huge, and wonderful, and breath-taking. When you stand at the feet and look up to the head, it feels like it's falling (just like doing the same thing next to a skyscraper).

Now, I realise it isn't everyone's cup of tea; in fact it was pretty controversial when it was first installed. However, the Angel was 10 years old this year, and had a birthday celebration, the Angel Party on 22 June, to mark the occasion. In true British fashion, the party had to finish early because of bad weather! So belated "Happy Birthday" to the Angel, and many more of them, hopefully with better weather.

Girls Night

2008-12-07T19:58:00.003Z

Last night we had the Kirby Misperton Girls Night, which involved wine, nibbles and aromatherapy. A small, but select, band of women from the village turned up to enjoy just being sociable. Quite a few of us had a sample facial from the lovely Bridget, who is a local aromatherapist, and the raffle prize was a longer treatment.

It all made up for the nuisance of icy roads and biting winds - especially as having the event in the village meant virtually no travelling, beyond tottering down the road. That was difficult enough given how icy the path was, but well worth the effort.

Hopefully most of us will make it to the monthly quiz next Friday (12 December at 7.30 - please note). Oh, what a mad social whirl!

Flickr

2008-12-05T20:16:00.000Z

Pictures of Kirby Misperton posted onto Flickr

The kids were alright!

2008-12-02T20:45:00.001Z

Now it's December we have had some more serious snow - although not as bad as some places have had to put up with. It wasn't bad enough to keep me from getting to work, sadly enough, but the children didn't get to school because the driver said it was too difficult to come and pick them up. This means I can neatly combine a post about the weather with a moan about transport - hurrah!

However, snow persons were built, and the journey home tonight was easy after a really scary one going in this morning. It's nice to live in a hilly place until you are going along a steep, bendy bit of road between two large lorries in a snow storm. At that point - not so good

Wintry showers

2008-11-23T10:24:00.003Z

So we did get a little bit of snow here last night, not very thick. Youngest offspring went out earlu and took some pictures. However, trains are not running on the East Coast mail line, so I expect they had some frost too. Also, the newspaper had a picture of children sledding at the Hole of Horcum yesterday, just a few miles up the road.

We might try to make a snow person later, but on the other hand we might not; it's a bit grey and gloomy.

Big snow no show

2008-11-22T19:24:00.001Z

The first real snow of the season was expected today, according to the BBC some roads in Pickering are impassable. Now, Pickering is only 2 or 3 miles away from us. Do we have snow? No. A light flurry now and then through the day that did not settle; as I write a smattering is coming down.

There is more than a passing chance I will wake up tomorrow and find a winter wonderland - in which case, woo hoo, snow people! But I might not. I love the weather here; if you don't like what you have, you can walk to the next village and try out theirs.

Cleaning up our act

2008-11-20T08:04:00.003Z

Good news today - salmon are returning to the River Derwent after having been driven out by pollution. Perhaps we will soon see them skipping their way upstream through Malton...well. maybe not, but it's nice to know anyway.

Seeing in the dark

2008-11-08T17:21:00.003Z

We had the monthly quiz last night and a really good turnout again. We must have been writing these quizzes for a couple of years now, and still people come along!

The prep for this one was really fun, but I found some strange websites in the process. I had agreed to do another round on farming for one of our regulars (as he had missed the one I did before). The best website I found while doing the research was this one:

The World Carrot Museum

I really need to get a life!

The Reunion

2008-11-03T20:14:00.007Z

Well, what a great day we had on Saturday! Lots of people showed up - more than we ever expected, and coming from all over the place to take part. It was fantastic to see so many people.

We set up the Hall in the morning. Someone had found some display boards at the last minute in another village hall nearby, and brought them over for us to use. They certainly made the pictures and other documents look much smarter, and easier for people to read.

We also set up tables for tea and coffee so there was plenty of time to chat about what was on show and to share memories.

The picture here also shows you one of our banners. This one was made by villagers for the opening of the Village Hall in 1993. The Hall replaced the old Constitutional Club, which itself opened in 1924.

We also have a banner made to celebrate the Millennium, and I may try and do a later post on the pair of them, as they are very lovely and took a lot of work by many people in the village.

Anyway, as I said, we had a great number of visitors with lots of information to share about living in our village over the years.

In this case, the former Captain of the Ladies' Cricket Team was thrilled to find the team photo from the year they won the League; here she is with it, having spotted herself in the centre of the photo.

With any luck we hope to hold another event in the future. It is simply amazing how much information there is on such a small place.

Village Celebration

2008-11-01T09:38:00.003Z

Today we are holding a celebration, which started life as a school reunion idea, and grew.

I'll post a write-up later, but hopefully we'll get lots of people dropping by the Village Hall today to look at pictures, share memories, and most importantly, enjoy a neighbourly cup of tea.

You can read more about the village and its history on our website here:
http://www.kirbymisperton.org.uk/index.html

And for locals, the Gazette & Herald, and the Mercury both have print articles, but not apparently on-line copies at present. However, for those interested in local news and events generally, you may enjoy browsing their sites.

Month of Rainbows

2008-10-26T16:42:00.010Z

So far this month I seem to have come across more than the usual number of rainbows, and at times when I have had a camera with me. I'm not sure what Mother Nature is trying to tell me, but I clicked away energetically and managed to achieve a couple of results that are not too dire.

The first was a couple of weeks ago when we were on holiday. Driving home via Strensall Common we saw a lovely double rainbow, so we pulled over to try and capture it/them.

Strensall Common is not only a designated Special Area of Conservation - which appears to mean sheep can wander down the middle of the road without anyone minding - but is also host to an army training facility.

We tried to catch the rainbows again at Castle Howard but they had faded too much to show up well in the photo.

All of which was very nice, but this afternoon we were out taking pictures of the village to prepare for the Village Reunion next weekend. We are going to put some pictures up to make a small exhibition of how the village has changed over the past 50 years or so, and wanted to get some more recent views for comparison. I might manage to put an entry together some time around that.

But the point of this post is that there was another of those cheeky rainbows right over St Laurence's.

St Laurence's is a lovely old church, dating back to Saxon times, and updated over the years especially by the Victorians. I think a rainbow just sets it off nicely.

As the rest of the village was also looking lovely in the autumn sunshine, I'll close with a picture of it as well, even though there are no rainbows in this one. It is almost opposite the church, walking back up towards the main part of the village.

Dalby Forest and Bridestones

2008-10-19T16:05:00.023+01:00

One of the areas very close to where we live is Dalby Forest at the edge of the North Yorkshire Moors. The Forest provides a wonderful range of activities, including Halloween walks to scare the kids, and star gazing, mountain bike riding, swinging through the trees, concerts and walks.

Dalby Forest is managed by the Forestry Commission which planted trees from about the 1920s. Prior to that the area had been part of the Royal Hunting forest of Pickering supporting a number of rabbit warrens

At this time of year it’s good to go up and see the trees turning autumnal, but I haven’t managed it. However, as I have visited in past years, I have cheated by raiding my photos.

Despite there being large areas of conifer plantation, much of the Forest is deciduous, as well as including examples of other typical local environments. A range of such vegetation can be seen on the walk up to the Bridestones, which starts from near Staindale lake.

The walk is circular, but we tend to start by going in a clockwise direction up the steep wooded path to the right. This can leave us quite out of breath if we have been over-indulging in sweeties, but is worth every effort as the woodland is very pretty.

At the top it opens out to heath, including heather and bracken. Being higher up and more open it is now possible to get some improved views, the way up having been too wooded to see very far.

Crossing the heath brings us to the stones themselves. They are amazing rock formations, naturally sculpted by the elements, although they do look artificial in many ways. There are a number of them along the top of the ridge, in a mad variety of shapes and sizes.

They are also quite large, certainly enough to climb onto, in order to get great views across the valley.

The descent is once again through woods and is much more gentle; I think it may be designed to be wheelchair accessible. This incidentally is another nice feature of the Forest; a number of the walks are available for people pushing pushchairs or using wheelchairs, particularly the walk around the Lake.

There is also a longer circular walk back down from the stones, which is not accessible to wheelchairs. It cuts across more grassy areas and steep trails from further along the Bridestones path.

You can get across the streams easily enough, but need to do so in numbers in order to prevent the trolls getting you.

Pictures

2008-10-10T11:04:00.011+01:00

So this week we have been on holiday, and due to a rather silly accident at home last week (requiring stitches), decided to have days out locally rather than travel further afield. And how we did enjoy being tourists again! As we got some photos I thought I would put a few here.

This is the Walled Garden in Helmsley. At this time of year it was a little tired and pale, as are we all, but it gave us great views of Helmsley Castle nearby. Definitely worth a visit in the summer too, going on what was planted out, and a very peaceful retreat from the town centre when it gets busy.

This church is St Mary's in Thirsk. Thirsk is a typical small town in the area, best known for its connection to James Herriott.

Otherwise Thirsk is reasonably similar to our own Malton. What I enjoy about it though is the fact it has several bookshops; the Malton bookshop had to close down a few years ago, but still has a branch operating in Thirsk. Add to that the second hand books in the charity shops and I was a very happy bunny for a couple of hours.

We also had a trip over to Bedale and Masham. The church at Bedale is at the top of the main street, and again is typical of the area. Rather than being arranged around the town square, like Helmsley and Thirsk, Bedale is on a wide high street with a good range of shops and facilities (including good cafes and bistros).

But I do have to admit that, lovely as Bedale is, and delicious as the lunch was, I was really pleased to go to Masham to visit the Black Sheep brewery. It's a thing I have been planning to do for a long time and never managed to get a round to doing - you know what it's like. Certainly when I lived near London I never bothered to visit anything until I was getting ready to move away to Yorkshire.

Anyway, the Black Sheep Brewery does good beer. And a good tour, with many "am-ewe-sing" puns (you have been warned!). The story of how they came into being, and how they got their name, is pretty apocryphal. To my mind, the beer is what matters, and we loaded the car with a variety of bottles to enjoy over the coming weeks. I don't need to advertise for them - you can go to their website for more information if required.

The added bonus, as far as we were concerned, was the series of postcards available in the shop detailing short and easy local walks - all help build up an appetite to justify a trip to the cafe afterwards! We took a quick walk, and naturally had to take some pictures en route.

The walk took us down by the River Ure, which runs through Masham. Unfortunately it was getting late in the afternoon, and rather overcast, so the picture are a little dull. We went through a nature reserve (below) and across fields, but the going was very easy and the whole walk took a little under an hour at a gentle pace.

Naturally the scenery was gorgeous; I love the Dales generally, and am always intrigued at how it differs from our own Wolds and Moors.

Anyway, we were going to go to Pickering today - but I'm not sure if we will get there as it's the War Weekend this weekend and it may not be an ideal time to pop in for a quick visit unless you are keen on the 1940s. If you are, then it's a great time to visit of course!

Beneath the waves

2008-10-02T13:52:00.005+01:00

With all the worries about global warming, melting ice caps and starving polar bears, I decided it was time to take a perspective from the giddy heights of Kirby Misperton. The village, as keen observers will soon note, rises on a pimple above the surrounding Vale of Pickering. The Vale itself is overlooked by the North Yorkshire Moors to the north and the Yorkshire Wolds to the south. It is highly likely that if you read tourist information about the area, the term "nestles" will be perpetrated. This is not anything to do with the notorious Swiss-based chocolate company which has a large factory at York, of course; clearly not, as otherwise the tourist industry would have been in court for violation of Intellectual Property Rights long ago. It is more to do with an attempt to brand the area with an aura of whimsy not entirely appropriate to the natural disposition of most of its inhabitants, or, indeed, of the geography itself. Perhaps the popular notion of bleak windswept moors, so beloved of Bronte and Conan Doyle, was impacting the tourist economy...who can tell?

A long time ago, not so far away, the area was a lake. Lake Pickering was formed as the result of glaciation during the last Ice Age. At that time it covered a vast area and when it finally drained, the gorge it created formed the River Derwent.

The River Derwent is a classic exponent of the area's contrary nature. In a bid for "Awkward River of the Year 10,000 BC" the river rises on the Moors, flowing down toward the coast, then teasingly cuts away from the sea on a westerly course before eventually joining the River Ouse in a controversial upstream direction. It does not, however, have the fortune to flow through Kirby Misperton; that special treat is reserved for the Costa Beck, which joins the Derwent south of the village. The Costa is most notable locally for enforcing a humpback-bridge-with-sharp-bend on the lane which is the main approach to the village, thus creating numerous accidents and major coronaries for drivers meeting large farm vehicles or Coastliner buses at its apex.

The end result of all this geological hustle and bustle is the stunningly beautiful Vale of Pickering. And don't just take my word for it! The area around the village has been settled since the Mesolithic period (about 7000 years ago) when people lived throughout the area, including famously at Star Carr near Scarborough. The village itself came into being at least in Saxon times, if not before, as a settlement or group of farms. Three are identified in the Domesday Book.

Kirby Misperton, then, sits on its hillock in the midst of geological wonders. For those with a gardening turn of mind, the soil is clay - good enough to make models from! - and generally auspicious for roses. When we first moved here the area behind the house was a miniature reconstruction of Lake Pickering, so we planted a couple of silver birch trees, some hazel and a rowan; these have settled in nicely and helped reduce the water-logging enormously.

I started by mentioning global warming. So what would happen to us if and when the sea levels rise? Predictions about sea levels in the future are extremely uncertain; they may vary from 0.11 to 0.77 metres between now and 2100.

More recently there have been news reports that such predictions were highly optimistic and that over this summer there has been a far higher than predicted loss of ice.

The good news for my neighbours and me is that we remain heads above water even with a 14m rise in sea level (and probably more), but I imagine we might find ourselves more crowded as refugees are forced to move in. It looks like many of them will be from Hull.

I find it slightly hard to believe that we are calmly charting such scenarios. Really, people, it's past time to act! Our village might still be here, but many homes will not. It's scary and it's difficult, but I would prefer my grandchildren did not have to swim over to visit, or evolve gills to get to work.

I've started so I'll finish...

2008-09-29T19:53:00.000+01:00

So I thought I would stop complaining about school transport and tell you a bit about our Village Quiz.

It all began a couple of years back when someone decided to start a pub quiz each week to raise money for a local sports team. It isn't a wildly sophisticated affair - most of us gave up quaffing champagne and snorting Class A drugs a while ago and have chosen to settle for simpler pursuits. But even so, we have The Quiz.

As simpler pursuits go, it might not quite count. Sometimes the rounds are seriously demanding. We are privileged to be able to hold our quiz in the Village Hall these days, and so we get a regular audience of local teams rather than random, confused tourists from the camp site. This means the questions can be set to reciprocate the local paradigm: for example, we may have rounds about tractors, bird watching and local landmarks.

The Quiz is usually set by Himself and me. Sometimes someone else takes pity on the suffering of the masses, and provides a decent quiz instead. But usually it remains our pleasure to scour a vast range of resources and develop a unique quizzing experience (hurrah for Wikipedia!).

The format has also evolved from a weekly quiz of forty questions to a monthly one of eighty, with two picture/handout rounds. The prize is a minor attraction - a case of beer. The raffle is better - a local butcher does a very decent mixed grill. And the Hall raises a few pounds to help with running costs. The Committee provides crisps and peanuts, while participants bring along their own tipple. Needless to say, things get progressively sillier as the evening wears on.

We are now starting to work on the quiz for October: lots of options here for themes, such as Autumn, Halloween, or October itself. Probably all three will find their way in there somehow. By the way - if you going to attend, that last comment may have been a bluff. Any ideas for rounds are welcome though!

If you're passing, drop in and join us. We don't bite (not even if you ask us to).

School tranport - situation improved

2008-09-28T20:10:00.003+01:00

Well, the transport is now in place but as yet the promised letter as to why it was stopped at all has not arrived. Apparently there were 2 spare seats the whole time, according to the other children using the service. I suppose it's nice to know that people who can't count can get jobs...Anyway, looking forward to getting the explanation. And at least everyone can now get to work/school without worrying.

School transport update

2008-09-19T19:53:00.002+01:00

Tonight we received an email to say the children have places on the taxi service from Monday. It's a miracle! Hallelujah! We gave up with the bus because it was too stressful so we have been giving them a lift very early each morning, dropping off at school at 7.45. This means we get to work at 8.30 instead of 8.00, causing me some difficulties as I have a number of 8.30 meetings, but never mind. And the children don't like getting up an hour early but they prefer it to being late every day.

The school has been amazing! So supportive and really trying to help think of ways we can get them there more easily. I'm not sure why the council has suddenly changed their mind (apparently we are going to get a detailed response later) but it may have been with pressure from the school as well.

Anyway, I am very happy tonight. Hopefully Monday will be a good day!

Heart of the village

2008-09-15T18:46:00.004+01:00

An article in The Observer this Sunday reported research that showed our villages continue to decline as they lose services - post offices, shops, pubs and churches etc. The worst affected area is East Yorkshire, followed by Herefordshire, East Lindsey and then our own Ryedale.

Cynically I might say that the reason we are only in 4th place nationally is that we already lost most of our services prior to the period covered by the research.

It is true that we no longer have any local service here except the pub, which struggles to operate viably; the church, which is now part of a rather sprawling united benefice; the Methodist chapel; a post office counter service 2 days a week (we are very lucky there); and the Village Hall. There is no shop or garage, and the school closed so long ago that a proposal for a reunion has now widened to include any Kirby Misperton strays who have moved away, as so few people are around who ever attended the school itself!

Declining rural life is not news. Thomas Hardy wrote much of his material as a means to document rural traditions which he saw were dying out as a result of the Industrial Revolution. It is unlikely he would recognise much of what we now see as traditional country life. But changing rural life is not necessarily decaying rural life. We can't keep an old way of life going just because it is how things have always been. That would leave us with stone tools, the divine right of kings or only a handful of landowners able to vote on how to run the country.

And again, in towns and cities communities face erosion as the local corner shop loses out to the giant supermarket. During the day no one is around, in village or town, as everyone goes to work except the elderly and the unemployed - neither group being able to afford to do much more than survive. The libraries and community centres fade away too, or are replaced with new services people don't necessarily want. Libraries have computers not books, and evening classes have to be vocational to attract funding. When I was teaching evening classes, the retired people who came to learn how to use computers weren't interested in getting a certificate - they just wanted to email their grandchildren.

In our village we don't have a library, but we do have a mobile van that visits every 3 weeks on a Friday afternoon. It isn't available to most working people, but it is a hive of activity when it does arrive. The driver is fantastic - he gets to know what books people like to read and helps them find more books to their liking. One kind villager returns and selects books on behalf of neighbours who aren't around that day.

Equally we don't have a fish and chip shop but we do have a mobile one on Tuesday evenings. You can also rent videos or buy sweets, and everyone has a good time queuing up for chips and gossiping while they wait.

The difference here, from living in a town - in my experience anyway - is that people talk to one another more. I don't have to be part of local activities if I don't want to be; some people move here for the quiet, not bustle. But there are things to do and people to meet if you want them. A lot of activities happen in each other's houses, because there aren't many public places to go, so perhaps they are not as obvious. It's different, and it's true we are losing many things, but we are also changing and adapting and using new services to carry on with the lives we choose. No longer do I have to drive miles to a supermarket; it is cheaper to get the supermarket to bring my order to me, as well as quicker and hopefully better for the environment. (The same for any other on-line ordering service of course!). I can work from home as well as I can at the office. And I know who my neighbours are, which in this village is a great blessing.

Back to school

2008-09-04T09:32:00.003+01:00

The imminent start of the new term heralded the usual last minute rush, including finding the application forms for the bus passes to get the younger two to school. Living in the village is complicated school-wise. Before we moved here we lived in Malton itself, and so the children all went to Malton School. Parental Choice is a bit of a novel concept in this part of the world, so when we moved here, the council said we should send them to the school in Pickering, as we were now in that catchment area. However, bizarrely, they did run a school bus from KM to Malton School. So we carried on regardless, having annual arguments over why we wanted bus passes but no real problems.

Last term the council changed contractor and replaced the ricketty bus with a taxi service because there weren't enough children using the bus to be worth running it. Fantastic! It was a much better service and we were very happy.

Last week I phoned the council to confirm the payment was on its way. I was told the bus passes were also on their way and not to worry as the first instalment was not due until October. Both children were confirmed on the list.

First day of term - but youngest son didn't have to go in, as he is in Year 11 (final GCSE). Daughter was staying with a friend in town and going in from there.

We got home from work that evening to find a letter from the council returning our applications and saying there were no spaces available. There must have been a real rush of new children needing those seats! From not enough to too many in one go!

I used bad words, I confess. More than once. It helped a bit.

The current situation is that the children are having to catch the Coastliner (mentioned in a prior post) at 8.45 and arrive at school at 9.15, missing registration but more or less in time for class. The earlier bus is at 6.55 and they would arrive before the school opens which is not acceptable, especially with winter approaching.

I'm not sure what happened to the council's policy of at least 7 days notice of lack of availability, or the other policy of "not getting caught out lying to customers". Needless to say, we are less than impressed. When I read about the problems of choosing a school in the south of England I tend to laugh in a hollow manner.

But my real concern here is the difficulties it is causing the children, one in GCSE final year, the other in final A-level year. It's just not right.

Misty-eyed

2008-08-29T08:27:00.001+01:00

Today I was going to go out for a walk and take some pictures of the village and countryside. But this is what greeted me outside the front door. Welcome to the British summer!

It might brighten up later, so I have some hope, but meanwhile this gives me time for a cup of tea and a chance to finish the book I borrowed from Youngest Son.

Home is where the heart is

2008-08-26T18:36:00.000+01:00

Why do we choose to live where we live? This begs the question of whether we can always have so much control over our lives. People may try to attribute their choices to external factors, such as economics or their family; the first because price is a significant issue; the second because that's what families are for.

But if we examine these ideas we may see some cracks appearing. Let's start with economics.

Renting or buying a home is clearly constrained by the amount of money available to us. I cannot afford to live in certain places no matter what I do. Yet people are endlessly creative about finding ways to live where (or near to where) they choose. Examples might include sharing with friends, or strangers; renting a spare room in a family's house; getting a caravan in Mum and Dad's garden; finding a job with accommodation included; defrauding the system. I'm sure there are plenty of others.My point is that when we are sufficiently motivated we find ways to get what we want.

Similarly, being near family is, deep down, a choice. Some people emigrate and others never leave home. In both scenarios, the justification can be "the family". I don't really believe that family circumstances are of themselves a deciding factor, more a justification - although I do recognise that if anyone knows how to manipulate you, it's your family. So I'm sure there are a lot of miserable people who decided it wasn't worth the fight/guilt. In the end, then, I propose that we live where we choose, even if recognising the choices we make is a major challenge.

All of the above leads me to look at why I chose to live where I do. So far in this nascent masterpiece I have presented a lifestyle choice of dodgy broadband and third world transport systems against the undeniably gorgeous but nevertheless ephemeral joy of watching baby swallows learn to fly (and even then I complained about the weather!). So why on earth would I choose to be here? And I do choose it, without a moment's reservation, with all my heart and soul.

What is the village like? It has around 300 adults on the electoral role, a pub, a church and a chapel, a Village Hall and a theme park with zoo. The residentail site on the theme park is as big again as the entire village, and the number of tourists visiting each year block all the roads, litter the street and vandalise the daffoldils. On the plus side, I know my neighbours well, my children are safe, the air is fresh and the pace of life is human. When I sit in the garden I can hear all the birds singing, as well as livestock on the farms and the gibbons screaming in the zoo (always slightly amusing to explain to visitors). Neighbours can walk in any time. We share cups of tea, food and wine. We run quizzes and barbecues and garden competitions. It's all terribly mundane and English, and I just love it. My house has been here since the 18th century, and I feel connected to all the previous people who were here. When we decorated we could see the straw caught in the old mortar, and the fingerprints in the hand-made bricks. The fields on the tithe map from 1703 are unchanged today. The church has Saxon foundations, and the village is in the Domesday Book.

Sometimes it has to be said, it feels like we are still living in the 18th century. We are installing central heating as I write; until now all our heating was from open fires downstairs; we used electric heaters upstairs because we are not as tough as our predecessors (or to put it another way, we don't have to put up with being so cold).

In some ways life is harder. The local shops, businesses and school are long gone. We have a post office available twice a week and the mobile library once every 3 weeks. Tuesday night we get the fish and chips van. A hundred years ago there were shops and services (eg a tailor, a blacksmith) all here; but now we all drive everywhere or get supermarket deliveries, so no need for local services any more. In fact the Internet is a wonderful thing for us, and many people use it extensively to order groceries, books, holidays and to socilise. Possibly they even write blogs.

Ask a neighbour about this place and you will hear a different village described. We see most clearly the things that matter to us the most. In reality what I have told you about is not my village but myself; my wish to live quietly, in community and grounded in place and time.

Public transport

2008-08-23T09:42:00.000+01:00

Well, here in good old KM we are blessed with a reliable public transport system - at least for a limited number of hours a day. It is true that I can get to work 20 miles away in good time by catching the 6.55 bus, arriving at work for 8.00. However, if I want to get to work in the local market town of Malton I would either get there at about 7.00 or 9.30.

Equally coming home at night I can catch a bus from the office at 4.30 or 5.30. But if I want to go out after work, either from the office or in Malton, then I will need a taxi back. Fine for me (occasionally, as luckily I don't have a social life) but not so great for my teens, whose miserable parent won't pay £12 every time they want to do something mad like go to the cinema or get a pizza with friends.

And today is Saturday, so I wanted to take my son into York to pick up last minute stuff for school. As it's a weekend we didn't rush for the 9.15 bus. After all they are every hour, aren't they?

Apparently not any more. Next bus is 11.15.

Now I am a great fan of public transport, but this is taking the mick.

And one of the problems for the bus company is the additional costs they have incurred with the introduction of free passes for pensioners. It's a great idea. People are using the buses extensively for days out to all the tourist places (York Scarborough, Whitby etc), as well as to get the weekly shop and so on. And they are going out more and travelling further than usual, including returning during the home rush hour.

As a result I am starting to see an increase of working age people using the York Park and Ride service ie driving to York each in their own car instead of all using the bus like we did before the pensioners got tickets. Because if we wait for the bus it may be too full to get home after work; and in one case a friend of mine was unable to board the last bus back to her village (the good old 5.30) and had to get a taxi instead.

Another good idea not thought through properly. And the result is increased car usage for those who can, and decreased service for the rest of us.

Update:
After posting this I got a call from one son who was stuck in York. He had failed to get onto 3 buses (over a two hour period) as they were all full of pensioners. Eventually he managed to get a train to Malton and we picked him up at 12.00 (he had tried to get the 9.30 bus in the first place so it only took him 2 1/2 hours to go 20 miles).

When I got to the head of the queue at the bus station to complain, they explained they had put on extra buses from both Leeds and Tadcaster, but they also filled up with pensioners. So effectively there was no bus service from York. Unbelievable!

Did you say "broad" band?

2008-08-19T15:38:00.000+01:00

What a frustrating day! I decided to work at home rather than trail into the office after a doctor's appointment, and have just had to give up (which means doing some late nights later this week, I expect). Rural broadband - just say "Hurry Up!". I haven't had to use a connection this slow since 1993. And then it was mainly DOS or UNIX so it didn't matter so much. Gah!

OK, rant over.

To be fair the internet connection is OK (else I wouldn't be posting this), it's just the connection to the office system is so sensitive it throws me out every few minutes because the broadband drops the line for a nanosecond.

And knowing that really isn't any help.

The sun is shining

2008-08-17T15:30:00.000+01:00

It's been a British summer of the ideal type - lots of weather and so plenty to complain about. But today it is sunny and I should be outside soaking up some vitamin D before rickets set in. However, here I sit, typing random ideas, and easing muscles after a steamy stripping session in the bathroom. At least the old 1960s wallpaper is now gone.

The nicest thing that has happened this summer is that the swallows have come back to nest in the new porch after we tore down their old nesting site in the garage. If only we had had more sunny weekends I could have indulged myself completely in watching the baby swallows learn to fly. However, in compensation they are nesting right next to the kitchen window so I have been able to watch the parents dashing in and out with food for the kids while I am doing the washing up.

Why do we get such pleasure from watching these kind of events? I just can't get tired of it. Everything is so beautifully balanced and harmonious, and swallows in particular are exhilarating to watch - joy incarnate.

I remember once seeing a programme with Stephen Fry where he said something to the effect that nature was incapable of being ugly. Desolate, sad, or frightening perhaps, but not ugly. The local sparrow hawk is a case in point; many of are amazed by its power and speed and sheer magnificence even as it swoops down to breakfast on the birds feeding on our bird tables.

Essentially for me I find that the natural world produces some intense emotions (read "Last Chance to See" by Douglas Adams for good examples of this - http://www.amazon.co.uk/Last-Chance-See-Douglas-Adams/dp/0330320025/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1218984279&sr=8-1). I feel a sense of connection, even if it's negative, for example getting cold and wet in a rain storm without a proper coat or umbrella. This in turn reinforces my sense of being alive and part of the world.

It's also true that I can get moments of joy from human environments - not just from people, who are usually "natural", but also from architecture, art, music. Perhaps it's more about experiencing something greater than myself and that is when I feel in touch with the divine, whatever that may be.

The day the sun didn’t shine

2008-08-15T18:23:00.000+01:00

I came across this story what I wrote years ago when I was a student. It's not great literature but it amused me at the time, and it might also amuse you. If not, so be it. Given it was written in 1982 I'll let you work out the cultural influences...

I present to you -

The day the sun didn’t shine

There was uproar in Heaven. Every god was scrambling about in frantic haste, and all with a single purpose – to be the first to the Great Table. It was breakfast time, and there were fresh croissants, delicately steaming from the ovens powered by the souls of the damned at their labours in the Underworld. Finally, there was quiet as everyone settled expectantly around the Table.

“Where’s Dawn?” snapped the Mother Goddess, pointing to the empty seat of her brightest daughter.

“She had a heavy night,” someone said. “Midsummer’s Eve, and all that.”

“Do you mean to tell me she’s still in bed?”

There was an embarrassed silence.

“Although how,” Mother muttered to herself, “she could possibly sleep through all that noise is quite beyond me.”

Pausing only to glare at her host of children, many of whom were gazing wistfully at the rapidly cooling croissants piled in the centre of the table, she swept from the room. Dawn slept at the top of the palace so that she had easy access to the various mechanisms for keeping the sun in its course across sky. To save herself the effort of climbing the stairs, the Mother decided to levitate, and soon found herself floating purposefully along the corridor to Dawn’s room.

Entering briskly, a single glance was enough to confirm her worst fears, and sufficient to cause her to overlook the general aspect of a bombsite which the room presented to the divine eye – an aspect usually considered grounds for a week denied ambrosia, but provided with a turn or two supervising the souls in the Underworld. It was not a pleasant job as the wretched creatures would keep trying to get out of it, often with the feeblest of excuses. Mortals weren’t what they had been… in her day they took it like a man.

The Mother shook her wayward daughter. Then, as this produced no real effect, tipped a jug of nectar over the blissful dreamer. Dawn opened her eyes suddenly and let out a little shriek.

“Do you know what time it is?” Mother demanded.

Dawn thought a bit. “It’s still dark outside,” she said.

“Well of course it is, you silly muffin! The sun is still down, along with the Morning Star which Night brought in several hours ago. The mortals won’t like this, my girl, and to be honest, I’m not too impressed either.”

“Oh, stuff the mortals!” Dawn muttered rebelliously. “I’m sick of having to get up at the crack of Twilight to put that stupid sun in the sky. It’s been getting me down all week. Ever since it heard it was nearly Midsummer it’s been playing me up, straying about all over the sky and just refusing to settle down at night. I’m exhausted. I told it last night – it was the worst last night – that as a punishment I wasn’t going to take it out today, except for a quick run after lunch. After all, we can’t have the sun looking peaky.”

There was a very heavy silence following this outburst, during which Dawn plucked sullenly at her nectared nightdress and the Mother slowly turned purple, spluttered for a moment, then demanded that her daughter get up.

“We’ll talk about this later, my girl – after the sun is up in that sky!”

“No,” said Dawn, her voice muffled by her pillow. “I’m on strike.”

Mother sighed impatiently. “Well, give me the key and I’ll do it today.”

“It’s on the table.”

“”Where? Here?”

“Yes, by the moisturising cream. I’m beginning to peel with all these long days out with the sun, you know. It’s not good for me, Mother, I’ll end up looking like a lobster that’s just been boiled.”

“Never mind, dear.” Mother replied, hunting through the innumerable lotions, creams and oils on the table. “Night feels the same way every December with those long stints in the cold with the moon and all those stars.”

“At least he has Christmas around to cheer him up,” Dawn retorted. “Anyway, boys are different. He doesn’t have to take care of his complexion like I do.”

“No, but he gets awful chilblains,” Mother pointed out, trying to be reasonable. “Are you sure it’s here?”

“No,” said Dawn, infuriatingly. “Actually, come to think of it, it’s probably on the mantelpiece.”

Mother gave her the kind of look usually reserved by the injured party in a court case, who hears all their petty actions being aired in the open, much to the delight of the neighbours, who always thought as much but never liked to say. Unfortunately it was lost upon Dawn, who had wafted carelessly out of the room to start running a fragrant bath, taking several of the pots from the table with her.

Night appeared in the doorway.

“The moon’s getting restless,” he said darkly. “So’s her wretched sun. Where is she?”

His sister floated idly past him bearing various items of clothing and humming gently to herself.

“She keeps the key on a chain in the wardrobe,” he remarked, producing the item from its customary lodging as he did so. “Shall I let the sun up?”

Mother glared at her children impotently.

“Yes,” she snarled between clenched teeth.

“No good,” Night told her five minutes later. “The sun won’t budge. It’s sulking. Says she doesn’t love it any more, and it wants to die.”

Dawn wafted in again, “Good,” she said.

Mother put her head in her hands and began doing her breathing exercise. By now it was half past seven and still pitch black outside. A few priests were beginning to get upset and making burnt offerings rather indiscriminately. Heaven was filling with smoke and divine eyes were getting distinctly red-rimmed. Dawn’s eyes however were covered with slices of cucumber as she lay dreamily in her bath, inhaling perfumed steam. Outside, Mother hacked a little as she hammered on the door, and her vocal chords rasped quite noticeably as she ordered her daughter to let her in. Her daughter remained oblivious, with the latest ditty from the music of the spheres playing at full volume.

It was quite a long time before Dawn finally emerged from the bathroom, perfumed, oiled and creamed. Night had gone to bed, leaving Twilight in charge of the moon, which was becoming increasingly restive, and stirring up all the stars. The sun was moping faintly in a corner, and burning petals off daisies, chanting “She loves me, she loves me not,” then collapsing hopelessly at the end of each bloom to brood on happier days before starting all over again with another hapless flower. By now, the stars were beginning to get noisy and sounding rather like a stiff breeze among a thousand glassy chandeliers. The moon was backing them up with some of her special violins.

Dawn looked surprised, “What’s the matter with them?” she asked her wan Mother.

“They want to go out. It’s dark.” Twilight said. “They think they should be out there, galloping about and gladdening the hearts of mortals. They don’t believe it’s daytime. And the sun just sits in a corner saying things like ‘Temporal reality is a subjective experience conditioned emotively by the environment’ which isn’t much help because they think it means it agrees with them. And I’m not sure it doesn’t.”

Dawn reddened a little and examined her toes intently before asking “Do you mean it’s still not out?”

“Wouldn’t go without you,” Twilight explained. “Devotion,” he added gloomily.

Dawn flushed deeper and waggled her toe a bit. She chewed at her lip for a while, and fidgeted uncomfortably.

“I was thinking,” she muttered, continuing to examine her toes, “maybe the sun might want to apologise. Maybe it’s sorry. “

“Why don’t you go and see it?” the Mother suggested hopefully.

“Well, OK,” Dawn agreed. “I s’pose.”

The three deities strolled along to the sun’s room. It was surprisingly poorly lit, but the reason for this was clear immediately upon entering. The sun was reclining weakly on a couch, with a wintry expression of futility on his face. It saw Dawn almost at once, but merely groaned in a theatrical manner and sank further into its pillow of clouds. A couple of sunbeams drooped dispiritedly nearby.

Dawn, however, registered only the faint looking sun, and nothing else. She rushed to its side and began smoothing its forehead in a matronly sort of way and murmuring encouraging sorts of things to it. Very soon it brightened up, and by lunchtime it was high in the sky beaming like a cat with the cream.

“Well, Twilight dear,” the Mother said later. “I think that everything should be alright now, but I would be grateful if you’d keep an eye on things from now on.”

So that is why Twilight always follows Dawn and the sun, and why Dawn blushes so redly until the sun is properly in the sky. It is also why, especially at Midsummer, the sun is so bright and happy and stays out so late. Most interestingly, it is also why burnt offerings went out of fashion in Heaven soon after the day the sun didn’t shine.