Precious Friends, One Tonne of Wood and Salted Caramel

Well last weekend turned out to be a very enjoyable one, for a variety of reasons. 

First of all, I was lucky enough to have Friday off. Ooooh what a bonus - a three day weekend break is enough to bring joy and warmth to the overworked and slightly underwhelmed soul. And, as the sun made a welcome appearance, I whipped myself into shape and organised a countryside ramble with my good friend Greig and his side kick, Daisy. Et voila, here she is, pre pink-piggy-ball incident. I won't bore you with the details, suffice to say, pink-piggy-ball is no longer. It now lives deep within the bowels of this mortal earth. Or to be precise, down a rabbit warren. Sigh. RIP ppb

Then, the weekend continued to gather momentum as a dear old friend made contact and arranged to call in to see us on Saturday. We have known Andy for 31 years and he always makes the effort to keep in touch when he is in the area. It's a joy to catch up with him and share a few memories. His timing was perfect as he arrived just after we had tidied up a delivery of a tonne of logs. It was like a well planned military operation with yours truly in charge of the army issue Sherman tank, aka common garden wheel barrow. Between us, we had the job done in 30 minutes and boy, did that cuppa tea taste good afterwards. 

Then on Saturday night we had arranged to dine at a local restaurant with family and friends. The food was tasty, the company was great and a good night was had by all. Following on from that, I decided to have a quiet day at home on Sunday. Until that is .... my sister called to say 'get your sweet ass down to Creation Fine Art gallery to see the latest exhibition'. And like an obedient sister, I donned my coat, grabbed my other half and hot footed it into town. It was certainly worth it. Here is the link to Nigel's website http://creationfinearts.co.uk/ with details of the exhibition. I particularly liked Jane Moore's stunning jewellery and spent some time drooling, with fixed gaze as the weed tumbled by.

Then finally the icing on the cake, as on the way home I called at our gorgeous new deli and practically fell head first into a small display of salted caramel milk chocolate. It's bizarre, my finely tuned snout just seems to find it every time and I simply have to follow. I've come to the conclusion that I am the human version of the traditional truffle pig. Call me 'Le Grande Caramel Hogess'. Snort

Being Cared For

Last weekend we had rather a lovely day in Bridlington. It isn't a place I often rush to but following our experience, I now yearn for a return visit. I think, like a lot of people, when I consider this resort upper most in my mind is a small area of Bridlington that, how shall we say - lacks panache. But bear with me and you too may reconsider and give the place a chance when you understand all that it has to offer.

We started by parking up in the old town in a free car park behind High Street. We had coffee and cream scones at The Georgian Tea Rooms and it was very good indeed. The cafe is a bit of a mixed bag but full of charm with very efficient service. Upstairs is a kind of antiques come bric-a-brac centre where much rummaging can be done in search of hidden treasure. Which we didn't happen to find that particular day. Maybe next time.

Then we headed off to deal with the main purpose of the trip. There is an old fashioned shoe shop that sells real quality mens shoes. My husband bought some Trickers 20 years ago in Pickering and for the last 3 years he's been in search of a shoe shop that stocks said brand, in the hope that he can replace them with a similar tan brogue to last him until 2032. I only recently discovered that Marshalls on High street sell Trickers and also Barkers - both of them made in England. Suffice to say, mission was accomplished and he was chuffed to bits.

Thereafter, we wandered up and down High street in complete awe of the well preserved Georgian architecture. One of the finest in England apparently. There's no wonder it has been used for films and television dramas given it's condition. In particular, I am drawn to the beautiful bow windows and fan lights that for me, just scream Dickens.

As well as art galleries, restaurants, cafes, shoe shops and a second hand book shop, there is even a Singer sewing machine repairer, and on a practical level, a butcher, a baker, a florist and a green grocer. Before I forget, I must point out that the second hand book shop is well worth a look. It is in an old apothecary and the interior is still in tact as you can see from the picture below. I was practically drooling as I asked the proprietor if I could take a photo. 

By now, it was lunch time and we came across rather an old fashioned looking little restaurant with bow windows and heavy lace curtains. I think it was called Ellie Maes. In the window there was a newspaper article that gave the place a glowing review and emphasised that therein awaits the most cheerful waitress you may ever meet. Well that was enough for us and in we went. Sure enough, we were greeted in such a warm manner by a lady who was clearly the one referred to in the window article and as she showed us to a table she asked if we'd like some refreshing iced water for our table as we perused the menu. I felt all of a glow as it is so long since I had witnessed this level of welcome and care in a catering environment. 

We sipped wine as we chose from the menu and enjoyed a delicious roast lamb dinner with perfectly cooked vegetables. Yes, I repeat, perfectly cooked vegetables and, with a jug of gravy. The other half had apple and blackberry crumble with cream and we both had a cup of quality coffee. Pinch me I was in heaven. We left all of a glow and I thanked this wonderful lady for making us feel so cosseted and cared for. 

Then we headed up to the south side for a long walk along the prom to the harbour and back, calling in to see the Spa complex now that it has all been upgraded. I say, it is so impressive. Job well done.

As we strolled back I took the above snap on my mobile phone by pointing it towards the sun in the hope that it may yield an interesting result. I think it's quite atmospheric

One final chapter before I end this report. We had been told of a shop on the north side prom called Whiteleys that remains unchanged for decades and I just had to have a look. It was so quaint and as I stepped over the threshold I swear I was back to 1971. My friend has been searching for some cotton lace half-nets for the house and hey presto I do believe I've found them. And to finish on a complete kitsch high I bought the little chap at the bottom who had been knitted by a local lady. Seventies or what I say ? So just go, enjoy and return home all of a warm glow as we did

Sheeps (sic)

You may think that a strange title but I can assure you it is intentional - hence the 'sic' 

'so or thus: inserted in brackets in a written or printed text to indicate that an odd or questionable reading is what was actually written or printed' according to the Collins Dictionary

You see, my mum and I have this thing about mis-pronouncing various words for added effect. Why? Well, suppose 'cos we can! I think it's just part of our eccentric nature and it gives us a little pleasure and a little fun. So as another example, we may be out in the country one day when we happen upon Mr Goose and all of the other Geeses (sic) or perhaps we may be watching Draklia (sic) on TV being taken away in an ambliance (sic) and so it goes on.

Fear not, we wouldn't expose ourselves as complete idiots by talking loudly in public in this quirky manner. It's our little joke and inwardly makes us smile.

So, these sheeps that you see below. They were hanging around on the lane outside our holiday cottage waiting for a bus. Heading into town for a few beers I expect. In fact it was Friday so maybe the intention was to have more than a few beers, get well and truly tanked up and end the night with a brawl and a session in the gutter. Breaking a few hearts along the way.

But then Mr Farmer came along and before we could say Lancashire Hotpot he'd moved them on to the next lane and spoiled everyone's fun in the process. Pah. Who'd be a farmer huh?

By the way, the one with the black face is called Harold

Musings of a Transient Tweeter

Well, before too long I will be celebrating the anniversary of my first tentative tweet. You fellow tweeters will recall it's the one where you don't fully understand what the hell you are doing and you are darn sure no-one will read it on account of you having no followers. Zilch, zero, zip, naught, knack-all. But you gotta start somewhere - right? 

The early days were unusual, but encouraging. My first follower was a local talented chef who had served up many a tasty treat for us and before long I had purloined some of his tweeting group from our neighbourhood. I was particularly delighted to find that my ex piano tutor was one of them. Since I had given up the ivorys, I had missed sharing the time with John as we often had a giggle - usually at my expense as I amused both of us with my alternative style of play. Think Miss Marple meets Marty Feldman.

Then there was a lovely lady from an art gallery close to my parents roots in West Yorkshire whose website inspired me to order from them. There was the 'mad busy florist' and the local beef producers who I noticed have now been following this blog - high five and thanks to you both, I am touched. Along came an Irish guy whose claim to fame was making the worlds best Shepherd pie and I have to take his word for this. Oh and A & A bringing up the rear from their gorgeous 'little shop around the corner' - gee welcome back from the windy city folks.

I take a great deal of interest in Sue and Alison - the former a talented and eloquent award winning gardener and the latter a very amusing, energetic epic smiler who is determined to keep going despite many set backs and disappointments. And as for Sparklie, what can I say. Such a way with words that often has me chuckling out loud, and oh how I miss her contributions if she is laid low for a day. But I understand.

There was a memorable moment last month when I mentioned having an ear worm that involved a very complex rapper's hit going around in my head. Within a couple of minutes, Phiona, talented artist who was exhibiting not long ago in Paris (for real, mais oui) reported back that she once memorised all of the words to 'Rapper's Delight'. Whoa respect to that woman! Then on a dull day in Britain I only have to dwell on the tweets from our friends in Tuscany to conjure up a little virtual sunshine and warmth. Or to inspire myself, I head down to the wildlife artist's site for inspiration and gaze in wonderment at his beautiful pictures which are painted just a few miles from where I live. 

Another of my favoured tweeters is V who lives in one of the most beautiful parts of the North East where we have often stayed. The walking is just out of this world and V and her family run a lovely cafe, serving great coffee and the freshest sandwiches we have ever tasted on this planet! Not that I have yet sampled moon sandwiches as a comparison but It's on my retirement list for 2030. Earth to Tuss00 ....

Susie baked a cake, posted a picture and invited me over to share it; Mrs S, just down the road, boy when she gets angry she makes me smile - language Timothy! Finally, a mention to the one that I miss who isn't around at the moment .... come back soon, please. It's not the same without you

Request Granted

I know what you're thinking. "wow, she's been to Buck Palace and had the Corgis away'. But actually, if you look really closely you will see that these aren't real dogs at all. They are knitted using wool! Honestly, I am not kidding. My little joke ;-)

A few months ago I read an article in The Guardian which included instructions to knit your own Corgi. They looked so cute that I pondered upon how I might obtain one. There was absolutely no way on this God given earth that I would knit one myself on account of my not being able to sit still for long enough.  As a youngster, under guidance of the family matriarchy I did once manage to knit one glove and that was enough for me. I was outta there looking for more excitement than a pair of needles and a ball of wool could provide for me. Sagittarians are soon bored by routine and repetition. 

So I emailed several friends and family and appealed that someone might take the trouble to knit one of the critters for me. I expected to hear no more on the subject and tucked the idea away in the back of my mind. Well, within about 5 weeks I had 3 of the little beauties presented to me. To say I was touched is an understatement. The big lad at the back was from my mum and the pair of pups in the foreground, from one of my oldest friends, Sue. The red ribbon with the jingle bell is from a Lindt chocolate bunny that fell into my mouth one day as I walked past the kitchen cupboard. It just happened.

So there lies the story of 3 Corgis which I treasure very much. Oh and if you want to know the relevance of the yellow mustard pot then leave a comment with your email address and I'll tell you ...

Our Wonderful Winter Common Pasture Land

Today is Monday and yesterday was Sunday and I wish it was yesterday again. Like many other areas of England we awoke to a heavy covering of snow and this, to the child-like side of my character, equated to our very own fairy tale winter wonderland. It had the added advantage of being fresh and clean too. Oh what joy! I simply had to get out there to experience this rare opportunity before it all disappeared for another year. You'll probably have realised by now that I had temporarily suspended my usual reaction to heavy snow as I didn't need to use my car. It was almost as if I was in a convenient bubble of hedonism and had blocked out the existence of another world that I just didn't want to think about for 24 hours. So off we went on the short walk to the Westwood breathing the clean fresh air into the far corners of our gills. Boy it felt good.

And before long we came across the people and the dogs. All ages and all shapes and sizes. And for me as a dog lover it was as much about the dogs as it was about the people. Have you ever noticed how much dogs just love being around people at play? They are in heaven.

Now below is a lovely hound who, shall we say, was a little on the voluptuous side. Hadn't quite retained the figure of her youth. I digress. I first spotted her as she was trying to squeeze under the nearby bench  failing miserably. So she gave up and decided instead to chew playfully on a lump of snow as she eyed me suspiciously. This same dog was soon to be seen scampering about like a crazy kid making friends with people and other animals in the area and generally enjoying the freedom that her kind guardian had allowed her on this special day. You may spot her in another photo later on as she scampers and plays.

 Then we have the grown-ups at play. Good on you who ever you are. 

 Oh and the colours - such a great photographic opportunity

This hound was called Holly. A pretty brindle cross staffy with a liking for all things 'snow'. Here she waits, alert, ready for the snowball to be launched. I have no idea who most of these people are but I often find that we communicate through our dogs and before long we know their names

 Little and large. I have seen these beauties around town and they always draw admiring glances. How beautiful they are ... one day I will know their names too. 

 And after a couple of idyllic hours we started to head home. It was a perfect morning and I reflected later upon what a wonderful, spontaneous, community gathering we had witnessed and been part of. There were hundreds of people and dogs enjoying our special area of common land and we all got along so well. It's times like this that my faith in humankind is restored. It was all free, it was all healthy and the biggest surprise of all? I cannot remember hearing or seeing one piece of electronic equipment anywhere! Pinch me - I think I must have been dreaming

I Baked a Cake

There's not a lot to say about this picture. I mean why spoil your viewing experience and interrupt the flow of digestive juices with a lot of irrelevant words. It's a cake. A big over the top chocolate cake that makes peoples eyes grow large and interested. I baked it for a friends birthday. End of ... enjoy :-)

Exquisite!

 

Here's something worth sharing with you all. You may not appreciate when first glancing at the above picture that the whole thing is carved out of wood. Yes, honestly, it really is. The close up below goes part way to demonstrating this. When I first came across this clever man and his amazing skill at a local country fayre I couldn't quite believe what I was seeing. I stood and stared in awe as did many other people as they wandered by. The detail is just exquisite. 

The final picture shows further proof of his art. All I could think was that his family would have some wonderful heirlooms to pass on to future generations. Enjoy ...

 The clever man is on the right

Cultural Identity

My heart was all warm and aglow this evening when I happened upon a feature on TV about a elderly man and his allotment. It has been his life-long passion - albeit with intermittent hiatus of wife and children - and continues to be the thing that makes him tick, smile and warm with contentment.

It started me off thinking about that wonderful old tradition of allotment keeping that stretches back decades and brings so much pleasure to an awful lot of people for a variety of reasons. Every time I see an allotment I also get a glow of contentment as a warm river of nostalgia washes over me. That rich tapestry of nature and manufacture that combine to produce what almost appears to be a work of art - especially if viewed from above.  

I was reminded of one or two allotment keeper's associations that maintain the annual event of showing their prized possessions - the fruits of their labours. All kinds of weird and wonderful monstrosities and quirks of nature that have the viewing public 'ooohing' and 'aghing' in aghast at what lies before them. oh the photo opportunites are endless

Once upon a time we happened to be in Durham and came across a particularly handsome and dramatic show of produce the like of which I have not yet seen equalled. The onions, the cabbages and the marrows to name but a few were enough to make me exclaim out loud in socially unacceptable expletives that I wouldn't normally resort to but it just seemed appropriate at the time. 

    The Picture above was taken about 4 months ago. We'd been to Caistor and on the way back took a diversion through Kirton in Lyndsey. There in the little town hall was a show of produce that had a charm all of it's own. No need for words, the picture says it all. I just love it .....

Pleasantly Surprised

Last night was an evening of catching up with old friends and where better to do this than one of our popular local restauarnts, Dine on the Rowe. Jason Rowe certainly knows his stuff when it comes to delivering tasty morsels, and over the last couple of years we have sampled many a tasty morsel indeed. Yum yum with bells on.  In particular we favour his wonderful sharing boards where we get to choose several dishes of food to share, Tapas style, and have never been disappointed with our selections.

One of the nicest things about visiting the place is being greeted warmly by 'Andrew' who has worked front of house for quite a while now. He along with all of the other staff is a credit to the place. Then last night when we arrived we noticed that a new chap has joined the team and there he was looking very stylish in a great jacket the like of something I haven't seen before. Very cutting edge - we approve.

I now want to describe my main course at the risk of salivating over my desk as I recall the experience. The menu said 'Haddock in curry spice and soda water batter with Bombay potatoes'. A little voice in my head said 'this could turn out to be a new and exciting adventure - go on - go for it' . So I did. And guess what? It was everything I hoped for and more. Visually stunning and a great combination of flavours and textures. It's no wonder the place was full with such high quality food on offer.

The desert menu promised yet more culinary delights and we opted for 'Mulled burnt cream with mincemeat dodger' or words to that effect. I wasn't sure about the 'dodger' bit until it arrived and voila! Just like a traditional jammy dodger but far more appropriate for the season. The pastry was melt-in-the-mouth perfect. Buttery and light. The burnt cream was a great Christmas version of creme brulee. Heaven on a little plate.

On our way out, Jason emerged from the kitchen to say hello. He looked as though he'd just done 5 rounds with a giant turnip. He spends his working day in the 'engine room' creating his masterpieces and toiling in pursuit of excellence in order that his patrons have a memorable dining experience. Well done Jason and team - we'll be back

Farewell Jeff

Yesterday was a sad day for our family. We attended the funeral of my oldest friend's father, Jeff. The service was conducted by the vicar of the church Diane, and Jeff and his family have been a part of this church for 45 years or so. Likewise Diane, although she hasn't always been the vicar there. She used to be a teacher and changed career some time ago. So as she steadily progressed through the service, it was more than apparent that she was trying very hard to maintain her decorum as she described a man who was well liked and long accepted as a solid part of the flock. Jeff was a quiet, shy man and when she described him as having a dry wit and a twinkle in his eye that struck a chord with us all. How true, how apt.

But there's more. He was also part of the church choir and the town male voice choir and guess what? Yes, his fellow choristers had turned out to sing for him and there was a vacant seat with a hymn book resting open upon it, Jeff's place. It was a beautiful service and an elegant send-off and I am so glad that my family and I were part of it. Farewell Jeff, we won't forget you x

Mr and Mrs Clark and Percy

A few months ago I came across a book that I coveted for some time called In Search Of A Masterpiece by Christopher Lloyd. The cover declares it to be 'an art lover's guide to Great Britain and Ireland' and the accompanying blurb begins 'if you happen to find yourself in Hull, Cork or Dundee, what paintings should you go and look at ?'. The more I read about this book the more I relished the idea of getting my hands on a copy. I mosied on down to one of my favourite book shops, Waterstones, and found it in no time. Oh what joy! It was a delight and before long, it was mine. I keep it out on the dining table at home and dip into it on an adhoc basis, when time permits.

Before I go on I have to point out that another aspect of the book that thrilled me is that it covers the wonderful Ferens Art Gallery in Hull. An often overlooked feature of the city that some locals don't appreciate or have never even visited. I implore you, take the time to go there and you won't be disappointed. 

So this Sunday morning, as I wandered around the house in a leisurely fashion I paused to dip into the book and came upon the above painting by none other that David Hockney. I doubt there is a single sole in the whole of the country who has not heard of this iconic artist. He is a local lad, Yorkshire through and through. The story behind the picture is tinged with sadness I'm afraid. Mr Hockney was a good friend of Raymond 'Ossie' Clark and Celia Birtwell and acted as best man at their wedding in 1969, his gift to them being this portrait. Funnily enough, the cat was never actually called Percy, it was 'Blanche' but he thought the former name to make a better title. I guess that's what one may refer to as artistic license. The three met through art school and unfortunately, the marriage was short lived and even more tragically, Ossie Clark was murdered in 1996. But to this day, Mr Hockney and Celia Birtwell are still dear friends and she continues to sit for him. Somehow, I doubt that Blanche aka Percy is still around though. I am adding a link to an article about Ossie Clark 

North Yorkshire Moors Railway

A while ago we were lucky enough to spend time in North Yorkshire and this included 3 hours on the Nth Yorkshire Moors Railway pullman dining service. We travelled to Egton Bridge one lovely summer day with our walking friends and booked into a delightful little hotel called Broomfield House. We have returned several times since. It's the kind of place that feels like home but with service ! You arrive, drop your bags, and sit on the terrace drinking good wine as the stress levels diminish. Oh and the occasional steam train whistles happily by at the bottom of the garden. Toot Toot. 

Then a couple of hours later you get all glammed up ready to board the train in a nearby village. We've done this twice now and it is a joy to see that everyone makes a real effort to dress for the occasion. I don't mean ball gowns and tuxedos, unless you wanted to, but good old fashioned glamour to add to the sense of occasion that this is. The carriages are delightful and bestowed with little posies of flowers and smart, well dressed tables. You feel as though you are stepping back in time and notice how happy and joyous everyone appears to be. The food is good and the staff extremely efficient. 

We returned to the platform the following day during a circular walk that we had done and I was lucky enough to be invited onto 'the plate'. I took the above photo as mr Chief Engine Driver prepared to leave the station. The funny thing was that my 3 walking pals didn't realise I had disappeared and had no idea that I'd been privileged enough to board the engine until the picture was produced. I reckon they thought I'd just gone for a mosey in the souvenir shop for yet another batch of postcards. So if ever you feel like doing something completely different on an evening, make plans to indulge in this wonderful service. Oh and here is the link to the website - North Yorkshire Moors Railway

A little piece of heaven, here on earth

When I look at this photo I feel all funny inside. We were in France and on about day 6 we arrived here for three nights. It turned out to be a welcome respite after a personal trauma.

When we first touched down at Nimes airport a week earlier we headed up to a glorious little town called Uzes and often talk of returning there, such was it charm and allure. It was a 10 day walking holiday that we had booked through Inn Travel and we have been through them since as they are a very good firm to deal with. Unfortunately, 3 days into the holiday I suffered a fall down a full flight of concrete stairs and there was no more walking from that point on. I must point out to anyone interested in the detail that it was a particularly spectacular fall which my poor husband witnessed as I tumbled head over heels three times, according to him. There were two things going on in my head as I descended - first I was concerned that my spine/neck may not be in tact when I came to rest and secondly, I worried that my knickers may be on show. Praise be the Lord as I believe he must have been watching over me that day as I suffered no breaks or fractures, just torn ligaments and multiple bruising which lasted for several weeks. But hey! I was a-l-i-v-e - yippee ! 

So a few days later, battered and bruised, we arrived at Domaine du Moulin to a warm welcome and we were led out to the terrace for freshly made lemon juice and tea in fine china. There were 2 dogs snuffling around keen to make friends with us - one a fat sausage type model and the other a Jack Russell with that particular suspicious regard that this breed seem to excel at. Personally we love to see dogs wherever we go and this was no exception. So there I was with that 'good to be alive' feeling, sniffing the air and enjoying the care and hospitality that the kind lady who we'd never met before offered us. Like I say - a little piece of heaven on earth....

How Quaint

This little scene brings me such joy. Here we have a piece of old England, a London Cabman's shelter from around 1875, nestled cosily in a leafy corner of the city, complete with a modern cab parked outside. Let's roll back the clock and consider the scene 135 years ago. 

Way back then, a fund was established to provide shelters for drivers of hackney carriages and handsome cabs in their hour of need. Life could be difficult for them especially during adverse weather conditions. They were strictly banned from leaving their vehicles unattended for fear of theft and this meant they couldn't seek refuge inside an Inn or cafe for a hot meal and a drink. And so approximately 60 of these green huts were built on the major cab sites around London and the specification stated they should be no larger than a horse and cart as they were part of the public highway.

They were run by attendants who would either provide hot meals on request or cook a cabbie's own food if he brought it with him. The huts seated about 10 people and newspapers were provided by kind benefactors or publishers who also supported this idea. There were strict rules in place and alcohol, gambling and swearing were not allowed. There are only 13 of the shelters remaining today, run by the cabmens' fund and they are Grade 2 listed buildings. 

Thankyou to Wikipedia for providing this information

Pushing the Boundaries

Hmmm, the title of this post may be over egging my point somewhat but occasionally, a little exaggeration doesn't go amiss. I will explain. I think most of us are guilty of sinking into the comfort zone otherwise known as 'routine'. You know - you get up, you do the work thing, you go to the same cafe, you take the familiar route home, you eat the same things month in month out, you read the same magazines and wear a small section of your wardrobe to the extent that you don't even notice what else is in there. 

So occasionally I try to make an attempt to step outside the circle of predictability and do something different.  With this in mind, I enrolled on a short night class at Bishop Burton college and have spent the last five weeks under the tutorage of a lovely lady called Claire who guided us through the basics of web design. It has been very enjoyable and along the way I have managed to launch my first Blog. That's right, you're reading it at this very moment ;-)

So if we STOP the merry go round of mundanity and take stock now and again, perhaps we can make a conscious effort to consider what else we can do to enrich our lives. It doesn't have to be complicated. 

Hmmm, let me think now.... what next? Rock climbing, poetry, bowls, a walk over the moors? Go on, do something different. You know you want to. 

p.s. thank you to my family and a couple of close friends for reading my blog and Jeremy, classmate, for taking the time to study the contents.  Much appreciated. 

Golf but not as you know it ?

Here in Beverley we like to do things differently you know. On the outskirts of the town we have a wonderful piece of common pasture land called the Westwood. It is much cherished by anyone who appreciates the freedom of open land, be it dog walkers, young courting couples or families with youngsters who need to let off steam. It is also the home of the local golf club and considered to be a pretty challenging course with generous amounts of rough ground and long grass waiting to claim many a golf ball. Oh, I nearly forgot - it is also open to hoards of cows that roam the pasture every year. That's right. Hundreds of cows in all shapes, sizes and colours that wander around at will chewing, chomping and generally just following their lovely big wet noses. Personally, I like to see these big gentle creatures and welcome their return each spring. But somehow, I doubt the golfers have the same sentimental attachment to them as they lollop across the tees and mosey on up the fairways with all the time in the world. The cows that is, not the golfers. I can't think of anywhere else in the world where you could capture a photo like this. 

Who's the Baby ?

I came across this picture recently and my spontaneous reaction went something like 'aw what a little cutie'. Followed by another spontaneous thought of 'who is it?' 

I can reveal the little boy grew up to be a very famous Indian film star. He was born in 1942 and is called Amitabh Bachchan. His rise to fame began in the 1970s and he became one of the most prominent figures in the history of Indian cinema. He has won many major awards over the years and as well as acting, he has turned his hand to film production, TV presentation, singing and politics being an elected member of the Indian parliament from 1984 to 1987.

At the height of his fame he had a very near brush with death. Whilst filming a fight scene with his co-star and performing his own stunts, an ill timed jump caused him to strike a table resulting in a ruptured spleen and heavy loss of blood. In hospital an emergency splenectomy was required and he remained critically ill for several months thereafter, at times close to death. The public response was profound as fans and well-wishers formed long queues outside the hospital and prayers were offered in temples. 

Such was the publicity that when the film was eventually released it became a box office success. The original story line involved Bachchan's character being killed off but in light of the events that had gone before the finale was re-worked and he lived to tell another tale. Of course I can't finish without revealing what a handsome young man he blossomed into. Here he is with his daughter

Our Handsome City

A couple of years ago I climbed up onto the roof of one of the highest buildings in our city and took a few shots of what lay at my feet. The results surprised me. I think I had probably become immune to the charms of the place and was no longer fully aware of what was around me. The picture is testament to the variety of architecture, ancient and modern. Trinity Church takes centre stage with a back drop of the estuary, calm and serene. To the left lies The Deep, a biomorphic structure that resembles a whale rising from the ocean and beside this is the tidal barrier that was built in 1980 to prevent water surges that may cause flooding.  Centre bottom is part of the street known as Land of Green Ginger - so called due to the medieval spice market that operated here. I have only covered a small area here and will add that for anyone thinking of paying a visit to Kingston Upon Hull, allow a couple of days to take in some of the history, culture, galleries and museums - you won't be disappointed.

Tiramisu

'Bella Bella, Mangila' - I have yet to find anyone who doesn't like Tiramisu. Most of us avoid it of course, due to the calorific content, but as a treat now and again, bring it on I say. I remember the first time that we tried it many years ago. We were on holiday in Austria walking up hill and down dale (or should I say mountain and alp) and could afford to eat well given that we would be sure to burn it off the following day. So we ate whatever we had a yearning for and didn't worry one jot about calories, sugar and fat. Cue Tiramisu which has the lot in abundance. They say you always remember your first one. The time, the place and the company. Well actually, I've made that bit up for dramatic effect but I do honestly remember my first one. We were out for an evening stroll in Kitzbuhel. It was about 9 o'clock, a balmy June night and there were happy people all around. We heard voices calling out from a pavement cafe and we realised we were being beckoned over by some of the Reps that we knew. 'Join us join us' they cried. 'We're having Tiramisu'. And that was the start of a memorable night during a lovely holiday in Austria. Oh, almost forgot to say - Tiramisu translates to 'pick me up' and this one is for my colleagues at the office tomorrow.