June 2, 2007
Dinner on the moors.
Last night was a glorious evening.
Nobody felt like cooking, and we wisely decided to drive on to the moors and look at the new wind farm and get something to eat at an ancient pub called "The Ram".
Britain is forging forwards with alternative energy, and it leaves me in despair to see our own pathetic efforts in the States. Our attempts seem to be mere political genuflections and not a real attempt to combat the problem.
The wind farm here is amazing, the 24 massive "Vestas 34" turbines generating a combined 9.6Mw of free energy. An even bigger system is proposed for the windswept moors of Oswaldwistle, with each turbine topping 185 meters high! Friends of the Earth (FOE), a eco pressure group, has objected to the plan saying it damages the moorland view, but I see them as beacons of hope rather than any blight. The sheep don't seem to mind either.
I was an active crew member with Greenpeace for years as an young man and am very bothered by the FOE attitude. For years they have been demanding solar and wind alternatives, and now it is finally here they now piss and moan. It seems that they need something to be against (very negative) and have become part of the problem.
The dinner at "The Ram" was fabulous. I had a awesome mint lamb, and Florence a leviathan sized piece of cod. The light again was magic.... I wish I could get this atmosphere into my suitcase. At least I know where to find it.
Posted by Andrew at 3:02 AM | Comments (0)
May 30, 2007
Pipes and drums and chums.
My Fathers funeral is set for Thursday afternoon.
As a Scottish family and especially because my Father was himself a piper, I need to play the pipes at the service to give the old chieftain "a proper sending off". My pipes are however in California so I need to borrow a set.
Trevor Stokes, the pipe major of my old pipe band, has been kind enough to offer to lend me his set, so Ursula and I attended band practice last night to pick them up and see some old piping friends.
It must be something in the blood, but as the band struck in Ursula was "fair frothing at the mouth" to get into the action. As I held her back I could feel her heart pounding in her chest and her eyes danced wildly.
You can't keep that sort of spirit bridled for long, so I stuck her in the back rank of the drum section, gave her a few pointers on marking rank and counter marching and let her go for it.
The youngest member of the band is 10 year old Callum, a prize winning drummer of insane natural talent, and he set Ursula up with drum sticks and she became the newest member of the band (don't get used to the drums baby, you are going to be a piper whether you want to or not.)
The end of practice was concluded with the band playing "Abide with me" for my Father..phew, big stuff.
Posted by Andrew at 12:41 AM | Comments (0)
May 29, 2007
"Go deep!"
Everyone has heard of the London Underground, but what about the Yorkshire underground?
Ursula has been displaying infinate patience and love with the events going on around her.. she needed a change of scene.
She had never been into a cave before and was rather nonplussed at the suggestion, but as soon as we got away from the daylight she got with the program and became a intrepid spelunker scurrying from chamber to chamber with echoing "oos" and "ahhs".
The formation of Stump Cross Caverns began millions of years ago, when the area which is now the Yorkshire Dales was covered by oceans. Sediment from the ocean floor would eventually form limestone. Underground streams found their way into the cracks and began to expand the cave system. Once the streams had gone from the upper levels of the valley the cave system was left behind, and the mineral structures that are present today slowly began to form as water dripped through the caverns. The caves were then discovered in 1860 by miners who looking for lead seams in the Yorkshire Dales.
Our journey into realm of Orpheus was breathtaking. A five foot pillar takes 250,000 years to make and when you see a large chamber it is hard to get your head around the time that nature invested into this jewel box.
On the return to the surface she exclaimed, "I will never forget this". Boom! Perfect day.
Posted by Andrew at 2:45 AM | Comments (0)
May 24, 2007
After dinner walk.
This time of year is total magic in England. It's not just the countryside, it's the light. "Etheral" doesn't even begin to describe it.
It isn't difficult to understand why this little island groans with painters and poets.
Posted by Andrew at 3:37 PM | Comments (0)
May 22, 2007
School... Its just the same, only different
When we decided that Ursula should travel with me on this trip home, the question of school came up for the first time.
Ursula's teacher, Miss Hosley, was kind enough to put together a parent/student pack of math and English sheets to maintain her studies while we are away (she is working on them as I write!), but we also were able to have her drop into the local primary school as a guest student to see what an English school is like.
Today, St. Mary's Primary School, Oswaldtwistle was increased... by 1.
With her Marshall elementary school uniform proudly being worn, the "yanky kid" was the big hit of the day.
After introductions and a little information about Ursula's hometown, they enjoyed a music class followed by a shop keeping exercise with the children taking turns to figure the price of the goods that they bought and make the correct change for the customer. Ursula's big complaint was that ALL the kids wanted to sit next to her, leaving her feeling a little hounded, and that the day wasn't long enough ( she was only there for the afternoon). She is however looking forward to tomorrow and cementing the friendships that she made today.
And Ursula's overall impression of British schools?..... "English kids pretend to make farting noises too!"
Plus Ça Change, Plus C'est La Même Chose.
Posted by Andrew at 2:03 PM | Comments (0)
July 28, 2006
The womb of our modern world.
It isn't often you can go to a spot and say that without question you are in a crucible of history... but this little cottage is exactly that.
It is in the next village of Oswaldtwistle and was the old home and workshop of James Hargreaves.
He was a local cotton spinner and carpenter who, as the story goes, was spinning at his wheel in 1767 when his little girl knocked the whole thing over. He looked at the now sidways spinning wheel and had one of those flashes of genius.
He attached several upright bobbins to a frame and was able to do the work of eight hand spinners. Feeling the threat of progress they invaded his cottage,and destroyed his work with hammers. The fertile seed was now however planted and although he died in poverty a few sad years later, his invention is now regarded as the incubus of mechanisation that went on to become the industrial revolution. It struck me that this can be viewed as the Bill Gates garage of its day.
There is also a family connection here as one of his sons married local girl Elizibeth Grimshaw, at Church Kirk Church on September 10th, 1740. My Grandmothers side of the family were the Oswaldtwistle Grimshaws, making him very distant family.
Posted by Andrew at 7:19 AM | Comments (0)
July 27, 2006
Lost for words.
It never fails that when I come home, I am humbled by the beauty of the place.
I usually am here in the bleak months, but this trip is in the full blush of Summer and the countryside is ripe.
I needed a little time to myself today, so I took a short drive around the local villages.
I think I will just post the shots, as words seem pale.
Posted by Andrew at 2:03 PM | Comments (0)
November 30, 2005
SNOW!!!
Ursula has never seen snow, except in books.. until today.
We had a small fall during the night, and I waited until after breakfast until flinging back the curtains and showing her the beautiful sight of everything dusted like confectioners sugar.
We went over to Peel Bank, and played in the fresh snow until we were blue with cold, then back to the house for coco and toast.
I know Ursula is having a blast, but I also feel like I am five again, and giddy with the fun and newness of it all.
Posted by Andrew at 8:26 AM | Comments (1)
Back in blighty.
So I arrived back at my Fathers on Friday for a 10 day visit.
This would be a big deal on any day, but this visit was very special indeed. I brought Ursula with me on this trip, and managed to keep it a secret from everyone.
After getting home and greeting my Father, I brought Ursula in to the room. My Dad just came un-glued.
The last time he saw her she was only 18 months old, and he really thaught that he would never get to see her again. His day now starts with a sweet "good morning Grandpa", a hug and some bed bouncing.
It is doing him more good than the mountian of drugs he needs to take and nourishes him more than the oxygen he glups.
This shot was taken second after he saw her.
Posted by Andrew at 8:19 AM | Comments (2)
July 2, 2005
900 years over a lunchtime.
I was having a pint in the Stag Inn this lunchtime, the oldest pub in the village and had the fortune to meet Terry Clifton, the virger at St. James Church, Church Kirk. He was kind enough to open up the church for me to take a few pictures.
The church was founded by St. Oswald in 1100AD and is famous for the stained glass windows (Mathew, Mark, Luke and John) by the artist Burn-Jones. This is a poor parish, and each of the windows is valued at £1,000,000 ($2,000,000) If sold, the problems of maintaining this venerable old building would be solved for the next few generations, but of course that is not an option.
This is a breathtaking church, and the work left by the craftsmen could never be matched today. I was however distressed to learn that a burglar had recently broken in to the church, entering through the great east window, smashing ancient stained glass and busting carved stone tracery before making off with.... £8 ($16).
Terry told me that the thief had got away with the crime, but the karma that man loaded onto his tortured soul will surely never be repaid.
This is the font, also dating for 1100AD. I wonder how many of the village children have been baptised here in the past 900 years? Terry tells me that a child will be baptised there tomorrow. My love and warm wishes go out to this latest little twig on this old tree that is the village.
Posted by Andrew at 7:33 AM | Comments (2)
Growing with love.
When we brought Ursula over four years ago to meet the family, Barbara distressed at the state of the garden took it upon herself to endow it with some of her precious love and replant it.
Her legacy lives on now in this quite corner of the north of England. It thrives and brightens up the whole lane.
Thanks darling... I love you so much.
Posted by Andrew at 7:22 AM | Comments (2)
June 24, 2005
Wait a minute...is that rain?
Some wise sage once said the 'Britain does not have a climate, it just has weather'. Well the climate was pissing down today and I feel more at home already.
In just 24hours, we went from 95degrees of sunshine, to thunderstorms and 5ft. of flooding at the Glastonbury festival. Marvellous!
My father served on the water board when he was a local politician, and assures me that 10 consecutive days without rain in Britain constitutes an official drought.
But then it would not be so bloody lovely.
Posted by Andrew at 8:03 AM | Comments (1)
January 14, 2005
Out of this world
Today, after its seven-year journey through the Solar System on board the Cassini spacecraft, ESA's Huygens probe has successfully descended through the atmosphere of Titan, Saturns largest moon, and safely landed on its surface.
This raw image was returned by the Descent Imager/Spectral Radiometer camera. It shows the surface of Titan with ice blocks strewn around. The size and distance of the blocks will be determined when the image is properly processed.
But wait....no! Can it be? THE KING LIVES!!!
Posted by Andrew at 7:44 PM | Comments (2)
December 11, 2004
"...but this goes to eleven"
I am a hippie burner, and listen to a lot of tribal trance. Swooping synth riffs and djembe drum beats. This is stuff to chill by, non abrasive to ones chi.
May the Gods of Rock forgive me...
Last night, I went to the 'Moses Gate' pub to see my old pal Rob's AC/DC tribute band 'AC/DO.' They set me straight again!
A packed and sweaty Bolton pub, drunken northern tarts, seriously hard lads on the piss, lots and lots and lots of ale, driving live rock and roll at tooth loosening Richter scale volume, and not a gourd shaker within light year of the gig. Tremendous!!
Thanks again to the band for a great night and my overdue attitude adjustment. I get it now...again.
I feel like total shit this morning. Its so nostalgic.
Posted by Andrew at 5:03 AM | Comments (2)
December 9, 2004
short days, long memories.
As we head towards the solstice, the sun is a scant curiosity at these latitudes. The sky is slippery grey and dead fingers of trees prey for springtime.
I took a walk around the villages this morning, my breath hanging in the air and long slanted shadows never leaving me. Toadstools burst like blisters from between the toes of trees, fog sulking in the valley and crows coughing.
These days were made for pubs and fires, strong ale and stamping boots. A fish and chip lunch is warm to hold, stokes the inner furnace and takes on a relevance that can't be fathomed in a shady patio in California.
This is a haunting and beautiful place and feels more than real at this time of year. I wear it like an old coat. I will miss it more than I can tell.
Posted by Andrew at 11:36 AM | Comments (2)