Lonely House
The collected stones of a house
its damp dry-stone walls holding
onto the mountainside, shining
where the sun touches. Green
in the gaps and cracks, slates
scattered, abandoned.
A single room open to the sky
white frost in old corners.
Empty folds, sheep aren’t
called here any more.
Falling stones, a farm
slipping under grass.
A view for strangers.
Second draft. Comments, ideas, all welcome. Let me know what you think.
Climbing Manchester’s Clock Tower
On our pre-christmas trip around England visiting anyone we knew who had a spare bed and a bottle of wine going open, we stopped off in Manchester with friends Martin and Jill. We met them in France and have become good friends, despite only passing a couple of times a year. Funny how sometimes we meet people who connect, and they become important to us quickly. Martin and Jill are like that for us. So since we were within 200miles or so, we thought we’d pop in for tea.
My original plan had been to miss the motorway and cross the Peak district and pass Edale or Kinder. The weather had some other thoughts on the route, and it snowed heavily that night. We took the motorway, and by the time we reached our destination the snow was just a mush on the footpaths. Some things are not meant to be, and it looks like snow for me this year is one of them.
Anyway, Martin had planned visits for us on Monday so we relaxed and enjoyed Sunday roast with them, and settled in for the night feeling welcome and relaxed. The following morning, after a stroll to walk the dogs, and after convincing the ladies that the rain would not last longer than a few minutes (hmm, Manchester – rain, yes it does) we leapt onto the tram for my first trip into the city centre.
Martin had arranged for us to take a tour of the clock tower in the town hall. Today as well we had the pleasure of the German Christmas Market, selling mostly mulled wine and bratwurst. With the odd knick-knack thrown in for good measure.
Spiral Staircase
Railing Detail
Window Detail
The girls decided for, various reasons, not to climb the 170something spiral steps to the tower. Choosing instead to sit drinking coffee and eating cake in the grand café of the town hall. The whole thing is stunning to see, the architects had a wild gothic idea and threw it everywhere. With arches, broad and narrow staircases, spiral staircases. Plus lots of mosaic floors, stained glass windows, and decorated pillars for good measure.
They kindly start you on the 6th floor, after getting the lifts up. Then its into the small spiral, round and round and into the Bell-ringing room. Ropes, benches, not much to see but the guide gives a bit of background. The biggest bell is Great Abel, named after the Mayor at the time of building. Onwards and upwards and into the mechanics of the place, the clock room. Here the whole timing thing happens. These are places that normally you don’t see, they are the domain of wizards and engineers. And the whole thing runs like clockwork. (Sorry, no more I promise)
The Rope Room, Bell-ringers spot
The Mechanism.
More Mechanism
Up again, and you stand behind the clock faces themselves, only three that show. One faces the building itself. In here you can see the buildings reality, it is a brick-built mansion. With facing stone. A bit of a cheat, but cheaper to make. The last leg takes you to past the bell room, and up onto the terrace at the top of the tower. Where Great Abel lives, and the views over Manchester and down onto Albert Square dominate your sight, The Angels, gargoyles, watch over everything. Being this close to these things always fascinates me. And despite the rain the views where worth the trip up there.
The Clock Face.
Angels
Angels
Gargoyles watching over us.
Angels, one for each direction of the compass.
Working while we watch.
Albert Square and the Market
Back down, you need to take care to be slow, and make sure you don’t get yourself dizzy with the turning. We dropped back into the main building, had a look at the murals by Ford Madox Brown in the Great Hall, checked out the Bees on the floor, a symbol of the workers in Manchester that drove the industrial revolution. More Neo-gothic architecture, and it was time to pick up Jane and Jill and head out into the market. Looking back at the tower from the square it looks much taller, leaning back to take it all in.
Gothic design
Manchester Bee.
The Tower From Below
Eating Bratwurst in the outdoors always reminds me of the Schnell-imbiss in Dortmund, Germany. When I was small we lived there for a little while, and going out to the “Schnelly” when we went shopping was a real treat. Memories brought by food. Then, of course we didn’t have mulled wine as well. Very nice on a cold Manchester Monday, followed by a curry to finish of the evening.
Mulled Wine and good friends.
A Well Fed Quartet
Finally, thanks to Martin and Jill for their hospitality, and for showing us a little bit of their city. We shall be back, soon, you were too good at the B & B thing.
The Versatile Blogger
Versatile Blogger
Planaquarium has put me on their list for this award, Thanks, its nice that you like what I do enough to put me onto your list.
They can be found here: Planaquarium Great images and writing.
My 15 links to blogs I like, how do you choose? I follow loads and try to drop in on as many as possible, but the more you find the longer it takes, there is so many interesting people out there. Work always interferes with time spent roaming the virtual world and walking in the real one. But this is my list, you are all great.
Paris at my Doorstep
Temporarily Lost Dot Com
Gin and Lemonade
Pat Bean
Obsession
C B Wentworth
Bennis Inc
The Power Of Slow
Zendicative
Elly Huizinga
Connie Dona
Insanity Aquarium
Life and Art
Draw and Shoot
Lets Be Adventurers
The Long and the Short of It
Shahanifudge
Claire Wade
Francis Barker Art
All in no particular order, just places to visit and see some different aspects of life.
7 Random things about me?
I don’t like tomatoes.
I cook Chinese food.
I can juggle.
I like to watch Scooby Doo cartoons.
I played American Football in England for the Taunton Wyverns.
I drink strong coffee, often.
I am an aggressive left-handed militant.
Now I have to visit everyone and tell them. Is this one of those pyramid selling scams?
Pyramid for sale, One careful owner.
Jim
Aran Fawddwy
Trig Point Aran Fawddwy
White tops
glazed rocks,
rime just growing.
Jeune pousse,
just enough ice to touch
the shape of the hill.
Just enough to grow.
The trig point marking the summit of Aran Fawddwy, after the walk along the ridge with the wind pushing all the way this marked our furthest point for the day. From here we turned and started our descent. Not before taking picture of the first growth of ice and wind rime on the trig point stones. This can grow through the winter as cold and rain build up. This picture from Waun Fach shows how it grows.
Waun Fach summit cairn
I love the shapes and delicacy of the sculpture created by this natural event. I’m waiting for the next chance to head out and see some more that the British weather has to offer. I was reminded about these pictures by a post on Draw and Shoot a photography blog. A very good one too I think, go visit and see what you think.
The poem was written from notes taken on the day, the weather meant they were brief, and the subsequent poem shorter.
What do you think, too short – not enough? How do you feel about short pieces of writing in all forms. Short stories, micro stories, haiku?
I once took part in an online project called Your Messages, in response to a prompt you had to write a 300 word response/story in 24 hours. I think it makes every word work hard for its money, and keeps the writer on their toes. Does my effort make it in the short poetry stakes? Does it give enough of a picture to make itself worthwhile?
“Jeune Pousse” is the young growth, normally of salad. Sometimes children, in French.
Let me know what you think.
The end of something?
I am now into my second year on WordPress and this is my plan for the year.
I have changed theme and removed Postaweek2011 from my blog. Now we hit 2012 hard and fast. Swift kick in the nadgers and we are off and running. Seems odd though no longer having all those people posting under 2 banners. Being able to see how they got on each day and week, the struggles and the successes.
Breaking out into the New Year
I started the postaweek last year to help my poetry writing. It gave me targets to reach, a propulsion to write, even when it was inconvenient. This year I want to try to edit more and do more rewrites. To try to put together a collection of sorts. And also to submit work to magazines, lots more of that.
I was surprised at how much people enjoyed the walking posts, it is a pleasure for me to share the pictures and relive the walking. I want to take more pictures and walk locally this year. To see the places we miss because we see them all the time.
Take a bow Mr Shakespeare
Stranger In My Town
Last week I had the chance to stroll down the high street of my home town. I call it my home town because I’ve spent the most time here, between going elsewhere and back again. The idea of staying somewhere long enough to know everyone is a little disturbing to me. I’ve always moved about, and I like it.
Last week however, I was struck by how different everything seemed to me. My eyes were opened to the strangeness and the strangers in my town. Who where all these people and where had they come from? I sat in the window of the coffee shop, seeing people flow past, hell-bent of the sales. Bags and bits, and so many heads down, pre-occupied with their mission.
I wonder if they wonder who everyone else is?
This piece follows the idea, of a return. As we will be in England for a while. Lots going on this year so we will see what we can, when we can. And enjoy the family and friends that are around us. I still not sure about the line breaks so I’ll be playing with it for a while yet. Seeing how far I can take the idea.
Home Town
Everywhere I look there are strangers
eyes watching me as I walk,
or wait in the traffic, driving,
they seem to know where I’m going.
Know I left, went elsewhere and returned.
I do not know these faces, and they do not
know me.
They accuse my diversions, my travels,
even though now, I am here. Returned,
with nothing more than pictures to show,
stories to tell.
They are the strangers who occupy my town,
passers-by who stare while I walk the places
I have been.
Wales, Wind and Rain
Last Thursday Pete, a good friend of mine, called. Did I fancy heading off for a walk in Wales to celebrate the New Year. He had a plan, leave early on the 1st, get to Wales and walk to Crieglyn Dyfi below Aran Fawddwy, wild camp and the following morning climb to Aran Fawddwy and walk the Aran ridge back to the car. On the face of it, staying up till 3am was probably not the best preparation, but I got some sleep in the car. Pete and Kath did the driving, I supported them all the way. Coffee on route started the recovery, and discussing the details of his plan helped with the headache.
I have been out on the mountains many times with Pete and his wife Kath, so when we arrived to high winds and heavy rain we quickly shifted to plan B, Cadair Idris. After all there is a mountain hut at the top, we could stay there overnight walk to the far side and back in the morning.
We choose the pony track on the northern side, joining a couple of others braving the weather to get out and about. As we reached the large rock marking the summit plateau we caught up with one of the Snowdonia national park wardens. He was getting into wet weather gear and dressing for the worst, “Gets windy after here” he said, smiling happily. Not just windy it turns out, wet as well. Welsh weather at its best, sideways rain, low cloud, and wind. Combining to make an interesting time of it for us, after strolling through the rock fields and over the last rocky outcrops to the summit we were ready for coffee and food. There are not many pictures of Cadair Idris as my camera is not waterproof, sorry, just some low cloud.
The View from the start of the Pony Track, Cadair Idris
Pete and Kath
Trees on the Pony Track
Low Cloud on Cadair Idris
Cadair Idris at the southern end of Snowdonia boasts some great views across Barmouth, North to Snowdon, or, as an alternative you can sit in the hut listening to the wind and rain clatter across the rocks and roof, while you hang dripping waterproofs etc up to see if you can prepare for the rest of the day. The floor was a puddle, the roof was leaking, and the benches narrow, all the while we contemplated waiting 17hours for sunrise tomorrow.
After chatting with some friendly locals who came out for a stroll, and eating and drinking coffee, then looking outside to confirm it was still getting wetter out there, we listened to our inner sane alter egos and decided to forego what was going to be a cold and windswept night and head for lower ground, and at worst a Bed and Breakfast. The trip down was, apart from the slope going down, like the trip up. Wet, windy and little in the way of a view.
Ruins on the way to Glaswyn
Next morning after listening to the wind from the comfort of a warm bed, while eating a full English, we made plans for the day. The Aran ridge, plan A, modified. The forecast for the day was winds with wintry showers, much like yesterday. Arriving at the car park though the cloud was high and breaking with wind ragging the tops of the trees. Kitted for anything we set off up the zig-zag path to our first summit of the day, Glaswyn with its small Tarn. It’s a long pull to the col, and the sight of a road at the top makes you wonder what you’re doing sometimes. But it was worth the walk. The cloud had stayed high although the wind still meant shouting at each other.
The Aran Ridge
Looking down the valley, on the Left, The Aran Ridge.
Llyn Y Fign, Pete and I by the Tarn at Glaswyn.
We stopped for lunch half way down Glaswyn on the way to Aran Forddwy. In a small hollow out of the wind. There is something quite primeval about the battering from a really good bit of windy weather. Hard work but satisfying to compete and win. There was some mixed snow and hail around, but not enough to worry about. As we took in the views today we could see Cadair Idris in the distance, white at the summit. And streamers of sleet and rain passing into the valleys around us. Today we were smiled upon by the walking gods, and only had a few hail showers to deal with.
Near Aran Fawddwy
The summit of Aron Forddwy was icy and the wind picked up to make sure we didn’t stay too long. Just a Mars bar and a biscuit in the shelter at the side of the trig point. The footpath down was more a muddy stream, making our balletic skills shine, pirouetting gracefully back down to the car. Two completely different days, changed plans, but up and down safe both times. Maybe next year we’ll get the right weather to camp in the wild.
Pete and Kath, near the top.
Aran Fawddwy. Summit trig point
The way home
Thanks to Pete and Kath, who once again let me tag along on their trip. It makes a pleasant change for me to be walking with others, and these two always make good company.
The Cairn dedicated to an RAF St Athan mountain rescue team member, Mike Aspin who died in June 1960 aged just 18, after being struck by lightning.
These views are why we visit these places
The Lightning Tree
A look Across the Year.
This may end up being the longest post of the year. This year has been pretty good, we sold a house and finished renovating another one. Next year we will be gardening, and trying to sell another house in France. All part of the grand consolidation plan we are working to. We have travelled a lot, both between England and France. Plus our road trip to Hungary, which was a great experience. We have managed to see the family more. Next year, I hope for more of the same. I hope that the illness of close friends and family is healed. I hope that we all stay safe and healthy.
I want, a different category. I want to climb more mountains, to write more, to see more. I want a good year, better than the last but with room for improvement in 2013.
Looking forward to 2012
For now, remember the journey is more than the destination. Enjoy the trip. I’ve taken the hint from the Dailypost and answered the questions this time. I’ll see you all next year.
Why did you start the Post a Week Challenge?
To give myself impetus to write more. Both Poetry and Prose. I think I have succeeded in this, and hope my writing has improved as a result. I have to thank everyone who has read and liked my work. Especially those of you who took the time to comment.
Describe the state of your blog at the time you started the challenge.
Lacking focus, apart from my starting premise of Poetry and Travel there was not much to hang it on. But this year has been good for inspiration from others around me, and from the places I have visited. Mostly from the support of people around me.
How did your blog evolve over the course of the challenge?
It surprised me how much I enjoyed writing about the places I have visited.
Did you post as often as you had hoped? Why or why not?
I think I have posted more than I expected to. And pushed through writing during busy times. A big achievement for me.
What type of blogging strategy works best for you?
Write as often as possible, and try to write work of a good standard.
If you could go back to the beginning, what would you do differently?
Don’t know, looking back is never good. Look forward and try to know what you want to do differently
What are you most proud of accomplishing this year?
consistency?
Name 3 great blogs you discovered through the challenge.
Pat Beans Blog
Starbear
Gillian Holding
How can I stop there I have found so many interesting places and people. I’ve put some more in later.
What surprised you about the challenge?
How it made a community of many different people.
What advice would you give to others who want to blog regularly?
Write.
What are your blogging goals for 2012?
To post more in 2012 than I did in 2011. To improve my grammar and punctuation.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone, Here’s some more people I have met this year, metaphorically speaking. It’s been a fun ride. No order or priority to this list, just saying hello.
Zendicative
Lesley Carter, travel and adventure
Joybound
C B Wentworth
May Days Are Swell
Broadside
Words vs Pictures
Claire Wade
Planaquarium
Sue Healy
I should probably stop now, there might be a rule against to many links. Anyway, all these and many more. Good luck and happy posting for next year.
Last but most, my wife. She has to live with me while everything happens, thanks and lots of love for everything.
River Torridge
I’ve been trying to get time to post for a week now, and have finally grabbed a moment. Sorry to all of you who have left comments. I’ll get to you.
Proper Telephone and post box. In a Devon village.
River Torridge Ramble
The weather forecast on Friday was at best, wet, with the added bonus of strong winds. So rather than head for exposed rocky cliffs I left our chalet and went for a ramble along the River Torridge. There is very little in the way of marked footpaths, so I headed along the bank following the field boundaries and animal trails. There is usually some kind of way along the edges of rivers, though you need to be aware of the streams that will need crossing and the areas of mud and marsh.
The old Motte and Bailey fort marked on the map is all but hidden by the overgrowth of trees, I could tell from the way it commanded high ground over the river that it would have dominated the area in the past, and the name of the area, Woodford Wood and Woodford Bridge, give clues to it’s reason for being. The clouds were low and grey, not stormy, just full with rain that was to pass in thin bands during the day and leaving enough breaks for the sun to bring out the shapes of trees on the skyline and the lush green of riverside vegetation.
The tracks, after a dry summer and recent wet start to December, have become very greasy. It has an upside though, because the rain cleared old traces of animals and left fresh ground to look for the clues to what animals are living along the river. I’m very much a beginner at spotting these tracks and traces but it makes a pleasant change to be slowing down and taking the time to see what’s around in nature, listening to the sounds of the river and woods as you pass.
Along the stretch I found Otter prints, Deer, Pheasant and small bird tracks. Stoat or Weasel, I’m not sure how to tell them apart. Plus many signs of the routes they take through the woods and fields. Slipways into the river, worn paths under hedges and fences, and the holes of smaller rodents.
Winter opens up visibility in the woods and I was lucky enough to see a herd of Deer walking along the edge of a field across the river, A female and about six or seven young. They drifted along before jumping the fence and heading off to wherever they head to live. The river is quite full due to the rain and crossing some of the streams feeding it proved interesting, sometimes you just need to accept you will get wet or muddy, or both. The force of the water can be seen from time to time, in the debris scattered about the banks, or held on a bend in the water itself. Blockages like this will free themselves eventually.
After the narrow tracks of the river, it was all change as I crossed the bridge at Haytown, entering the domain of man. Past the Olde Mill House (It is spelt like that, no artistic licence from me) and into Bulkworthy. Its chapel is plain and dark with the local stone, well looked after and the village consists mostly of Town Farm. It was time now to follow one of the Bridleways that cross the English countryside. Wide and not too sloshy with mud I had views across the river bottom I had just walked along, out over the heaped domes of the Devon hills.
Open country is a different challenge, and some farmers plough footpath anyway to discourage their use. Usually though you can see the trace of the feet of ages crossing the field. Over stiles and through kissing gates. Into the heart of a farm to return to the Chalet. A pleasant stroll around Devon, with only a little rain to dampen the sky.
Windswept Tree
Vine Detail
Mushrooms
Fox
Don't know what this one is.
First view of the River Torridge from the fort
Little feet, Otter I think
River level Marker
More tracks
Bird Feet
Streams to be crossed
Water Rat Hole, small furry creatures.
Mud! If you walk by a river, its expected
River blockage
Vines on Oak
Tree Line and Blue sky.
More Fungus
Small Waterfall
Church Detail
Church Detail 2
Church Wall Detail
I’ll look at the layout of this post later. Sorry if its a bit rough.
Devon travel
We are spending a week down in Devon. Driving in the west country is like nowhere else in England. Narrow deep lanes, mostly single track. And every trip takes longer than expected. The scenery in summer is wonderful. In this wild weather its is dramatic, with arching skies low clouds and wind coursing across the landscape. The trees are windswept and bare, the fields are lying in wait for the spring.
We drove across country last night, headlights bouncing of the steep sides of the lane and the bushes above. If we had met anyone coming in the opposite direction it would have been interesting. Tomorrow I am heading out for a walk around the cliffs of the North Devon coast, past Hartland point. There is a storm forecast for this afternoon so I hope tomorrow will be wild and woolly.
Sorry I haven’t replied to anyone this week, internet is intermittent at the moment so next week I will be catching up. We are heading around the country to see family and friends before work starts in January on some renovations and repairs on the house. So it will be Birmingham, Nottingham, Doncaster, Manchester. Then home in Weston-super-Mare for Christmas. In between all of this I hope to be able to do some shopping for presents. Who knows how it will go.
I love Christmas and believe that you should go out and choose gifts for people not just get what they ask for. This does lead to some confused looks but hey, that’s the way it goes. It’s the thinking about someone and choosing a gift that counts.
Should be on track next week anyway, I’ll try to get some pictures of Devon up this weekend.
