Being

After four weeks of barely leaving the house, i find I have little to say. I have rediscovered the pleasure of midday naps and this has led to the discovery that I like watching the clouds from my bed. My house has huge sash windows and is perched on the side of a hill so that the opposite house sits a foot or two lower than mine. I can watch the clouds, or the sky change colour, or the seagulls soar. I particularly like the seagulls.

The way they fly is soooo, full of grace. Their huge wings change shape very slightly and they harness the wind. They soar, using the wind with pure instinct. At one ment.

It reminds me of a programme I saw on Leonardo da Vinci once. He made so many incredible drawings of machines that were never made. It was decided to gather a team and try and make some of his inventions. The one I remember particularly was the hang glider, except it wasn't a glider. It flew but was so dangerous, even in the hands of the most experienced pilot.

The machine worked like the wings of the seagulls, subtle changes in shape in reaction to changes in the wind. What made it dangerous was that the pilot could not straight away have those instincts of how to use the winds. In addition, birds can feel the wind under their wings, pilots can not, so there was no feedback. I can only imagine such a machine being successfully piloted by a computer with a battery of sensors and lightning quick reactions.

Each and every animal out there has a precise function, purpose and home. They are at one with their environment. They are part of it. Their complex inter-relationships are vital to the whole system. The salmon in the river need the trees to maintain their habitat but so to do the trees need the salmon for it is the salmon that bring nutrients back up the catchment.

Why did we leave our niche? What did nature design us for? What is it that brings us into at one ment? What was our niche? Until we discovered how to manipulate our environment and make tools, I don't think we were the most successful of creatures. Few others survive on our evolutionary branch with the closest being monkeys, gorillas, chimps et al. So not the most successful design of nature then, not really.

So I know these questions have been asked so many times before... How did we jump from being animals to what we are? and what exaclty are we? Because I refuse to believe that we are a mistake of nature, a virus, planet killer. There is something more to us.

I believe.

Avebury

I like this reminiscing thing so we are going to have some more tonight. We are going to go back to when I was 18. I had moved out of home for a gap year placement. There were other teens on the same scheme. It is a strange time for people our age to be away from home. Everyone has gone off to Uni and suddenly everything is different...

I became friends with a chap on the scheme who was local. We often used to go to the cinema because he was a fairly silent sort of a chap and my constant chatter used to get a bit much for him sometimes. He was a bit of a hippy sort and had an escort van with a mattress in the back, little cupboards built in either side of the wheel hubs and multi coloured scarves all over the sides and as curtains between the seats and the bank and over the windows.

Back then neither one of us had ties or responsibilities, if we wanted to go off and do something we could and somehow money was not an issue, even though we were not paid a great deal. We had a lovely ground spread across the region and we met on training courses. We would travel to picnic and play frisbee in the sun in one city, go to a house party with vodka jelly somewhere else, get the train into London and go shopping in Camden, whatever we fancied.

My friend wasn't single, she lived off near the coast and sometimes we would go off for a house party at hers. I remember setting off on a trek to try and watch the sun rise over the sea, wrapped in a sleeping bag. Unfortunatley the sea view wasn't to the west and it was a slightly dreary morning. We got a few sniggers on the way back, wrapped up and bleary eyed... i got on with his lass anyway so there was never a problem with me going out with her chap.

One Friday night he called me and set he wanted to get away from here, did I fancy going off? I did and so with a couple of sleeping bags and probably a bit of food too, off we went. He took me too Avebury. We parked up in the dark in a layby near Silbury Hill. It was dark as the moon either hadn't risen or was new but clear. We climbed Silbury Hill.

Afterwards he lit his parafin lamp and we played crib. Unfortunatley the lamp was pumping out some nice fumes. We realised after a little while and spent some time outside....

The following morning, nice and early we went up to the barrow. We discovered a new age type who had slept in the barrow overnight. He had very minimal gear. We got talking and gave him a lift into Avebury. He had a ratty deck of cards, all dirty and creased with no pictures. He had the names of animals on them and he got us to draw a card for our totems. I was an otter and my friend was a deer. My friend was a little cynical about such things...

We then wandered around he stones before returning home.

It is over a decade ago and the memories are thin, as if I have not taken them out often enough and refreshed them. I wish I had had a blog back then because then i could go back and see. This blog is my rememberance of the things I do. I wonder how much I have forgotten... This night though still shines in my memory... But Silbury Hill in the dark shines the brightest...

Cultural Variation

I am still ill but I have whined on enough this past week, so time for something else.

I have been thinking about this one recently. The links between the US and the UK culturally. And the thingd that don't quite link...

This has been caused by my TV watching habits. Not surprisingly I watch a fair few US series. We have some gems on the BBC but the US TV machine is so much more vast and some real gems travel over to us. They are already proven, often big budget.

Some of our little BBC gems get taken over to the US. I am currently watching Dancing with the Stars (the latest series - yes I know you all have already seen it and knows who wins, but I don't.). This was started in the UK as Strictly Come Dancing. The format is pretty much the same but there are some differences.

• You have two of our judges, Len and Bruno but Len is nice on the UK version but a little mean on the US version. We have a judge called Craig who plays the mean role over here.
• I don't know who on earth the US stars are. Apart from Kelly and Donny. They are not part of my news background, they just don't feature.... You would never have heard of most of the stars on our version either...
• Most of the pro dancers are like old friends now after so many series but the US pro dancers are strangers. I have no idea of their personalities or strengths.
• We have doddery old Bruce Forsythe who tells very unsophisticated and dreadful jokes that make no one laugh. Your chap, no idea of his name, can be very sharp and quick witted and is probably famous in his own right?
• There was a decision on the US version to include loads of news dances, Lambada, Charleston, Texan Two Step.... The UK version likes to balance the old fashioned dances with the more modern and latin dances. It is a two way balance. The US balance feels a bit more three way between modern, latin and ballroom. Ballroom is less what people expect to see I guess?
• There are other differences in the production that I just can't put my finger on. Are there more cutesy montages? Is that canned laughter? No idea. It just feels different...

Then we have Life on Mars. The UK version revels in the back in time aspect in order to allow very politically incorrect humour. Gene Hunt is so rude and obnoxious but in a way that nobody would have thought twice about back then. And it is hilarious. He has some fantastic lines. We get to remenisce (eek! sp!) about old bits of culture. We admire old cars and clothes and music. But the humour is just so sharp, there is so much repartee and wit between the characters. The two supporting police men are so funny as well, they add so much. The wierdness of what is going on is sort of there in a subtle way.

Not so in the US version. The cultural references are vastly different and I just don't have the same contact with them. They arn't what I grew up with. They are labouring the wierdness. Sam Tyler is struggling so hard to get to grips with it that ahrdly any attention seems to be paid to the team around him and their characters. It maybe humorous to Americans but it isn't to me. It has no relevance to me. I shall keep watching but, for me, it is falling flat...

This takes me onto the next series which was on a while back, Little Britain USA. Little Britain was an irreverant romp. The US version was irreverant but it lacked something. And the awful canned laughter - they eventually took it off the episodes they aired here. It was as if they had to tell us which bits were funny, and they were not the bits that I thought were funny, which were few and far between. It crossed a line best left uncrossed....

They often say that Americans do not get the British sense of humour all of the time. I suspect this may be true. I have heard that sarcasm is not something they do in the US. Is this true? I luve a bit of sarcasm....

I guess what I am trying to say is this. As much as the world thinks we are slowly becoming part of the US more than we are Europe. It isn't true. Culturally we are different. We gloss over this a lot of the time but those differences are there.

America had the worlds unwanted masses, slavery, the American Dream and the right to bear arms. The UK had lords and ladies, history and the downtrodden poor and servitude of a different sort. We started from different places but our differences add spice and flavour. I suspect that there is more flavour within the US than we are aware of over here.

Cowboys, bible belt, deep southern soul, Californian beach thing, New York style. I suspect there is far more variation than even this. This is just the tip of the iceberg.... When I watch Dancing with the Stars I catch references to things that have no meaning for me, like Donny not being welcome in Utah after kissing Bruno.... I see it but it passes me by.

A Little More Rewriting....

I am still thinking on this subject at the moment and I guess i am moving on a little to remembered social history and international relations.

When I paid for my troll bracelet, I go to choose which country from the EU I lived in and I was intrigued to notice that although the UK was listed, individual parts of the UK were listed as well. How bizarre, that a foreign country should be so careful of the social boundaries within my home land. How bizarre that they should be so much more careful than perhaps we sometimes are ourselves.

Maybe countries on the continent do not have the same relationship with all parts of the UK. Ireland is cool and funky and has the shared link of catholicism to many other countries. Scotland, I learnt recently, actually fought with France against the English. Cornwall has strong links to Brittany on France thanks to celtic blood and pilgrammage routes. It is odd when you think about it....

England chose to become Christian through political necessity in many ways. It meant they were part of catholic Europe and shared the protection of the Pope. somehow though we have always been separate and not entirely popular, despite our desire to be in the club. The nations England conquered and forced into our form of Christianity are often more catholic than the English are now. Strange how the wheel turns. They are also more popular with those we saught to join our fates with.

So why does Europe dislike the English and I do mean English, I don't think they feel the same towards the Scots, Welsh, Cornish or Irish. is it because Britannia ruled the waves? Is it because had a huge empire? Is it because of past battles with Napoleon? The Spanish Armada? Hitler? The Cold War? Is it because of trade? Is it because we sit between Europe and America? Why?

England has joined the European Union in an odd way. We do everything by the letter, implement all the laws, pay lots of money. But we are not part of the family. is that just because we didn't take the currency?

I have looked at a few threads online and it seems that it is football hooligans and tourists not interested in learning anything of the place they are in or adapting to it's culture that they dislike. I have never found any problems abroad really... And I don't like hooligans or ignorant tourists...

I guess the thing is, although the continent is only a few miles over the sea, i feel closer to Australia, Canada and America than I do to Europe right now. I guess blogland hellps this - not many Europeans on my blog roll. I feel close to the other celtic nations though as well, their blood runs in my veins too after all. Am I Celt or English? I am both.... My blood left and moved to Australia, Canada and America too. How much of my blood moved to the continent or came from it?

Heat

I like the idea of Summer but I am not sure I like it in person. The last couple of Summers have been nice, they were wet and dull enough not to ever get too hot for too long. It is only just July and it is already too hot.

This sort of weather is the sort where you want a house with stone flooring so it stays nice and cool. The sort where when I lived with my folks, if I went out in the heat of the day, more often than not it would be to go and lay in the long cool grass in the shade of the orchard. OK, so my house has nice thick granite walls, downstairs doesn't get unbearable....

But work? I work in a giant tin shack. To be fair I work in the cooler end of the shack but it still gets a wee bit hot. Us Brits, we don't build for hot weather. We like to think we are hard done by in terms of weather. Thing is, that is just our pessimistic outlook. We actually have more than enough hot weather to justify a little consideration.

In the city I remember one particular building which was recently built, with no air con and no opening windows. They then filled it with people and computers. It was horrid. Nasty. Cheap. Inconsiderate.

Thing is, we don't design for the cold either. Scandinavians have oodles of insulation in their homes. They make us look like amateurs. The technology is there and cheap and not very far away.

We design for mediocre weather that we don't get very often. Thing is, our ancestors were much better at this whole thing. They designed to last and made their buildings look beautiful. They had windows that opened and huge fireplaces. To be the wrong temperature encouraged illness and they had no penicillin to make it all better.

My house is far cooler than the sorts of new build rabbit hutches around. I could happily stay here, all nice and cool, and not go to work. (which by the way is improving, at least for me it is anyway)

I sat outside in the sun for about ten minutes today, before I had to move into the shade.

Other countries work around the weather. They have siestas. They get up early and go to bed late but in the middle, they sleep.

Why can't we work with the weather? Why can't we be flexible? It isn't natural...

News

I remember that first time I switched on the TV in Cornwall very clearly. I happened to watch the news. Coming from up country and having lived in cities it was all a bit of a surprise, but a nice one. The highlight of the local news seemed to be a cat being rescued from a chimney by the fire brigade.

No murders, no muggings, no ram raids, nothing.

That is not to say nothing nasty ever happens down here. A man in Carnkie killed his wife and children. IRA terrorists were found hiding here. People throw themselves off cliffs, one did last weekend....

Some time ago, some where far from here, two girls were murdered and a person of the initials MC was involved. Following surgery they were moved down here, although I believe they have gone now.

From when I worked for the Police, I know that it is common knowledge that abusive partners move their families here because they can live away from others, in isolation. Having moved their families so far from their loved ones, they have no one to turn to....

Cornwall is a place where people think they are safe. To hide. Thing is, what they don't realise is that Cornwall is small.... Everyone knows everyone else. I had been down here two and a half years when I met F and we had about 8 people in common by then, we have found more since. My future brother-in-law knows half my current colleagues.... Everyone knew MC was here. Word spread. But that didn't make it unsafe for them to be here.

I try to avoid watching the news. The local news is fine, fluffy and nice.... I find if I watch the proper news, I get sucked down and down. I hate the way some stories are deemed important but seem to have no relevance to me, my life, or really if we are perfectly honest, nobody else's lives but their own loved ones. Do I want to hear about the good and bad things that happen in some celebrities life? I would much rather hear about people in my community....

Listening to politics makes me wonder how politicians can be sooo stupid! A new speaker has just been voted in, an important government post as they decide who gets to speak... He is Conservative but Labour voted him in, mostly it seems to annoy the Conservatives, not because anybody thinks he is suitable for the job. Recently there has been huge scandal because our politicians have been abusing their expenses claims with claims for mortgages already paid off, moat cleaning and all sorts of outrageous things. Politicians play games with each other and do not operate for the benefit of the country, at least not very often...

As for world news, they make me feel so sad and so lacking in power. I hate the way a story continues after the commotion has died and finding out what is going on is hard. Who decides what is important?

I first read about Neda here thanks to Kathryn Knoll but then again here thanks to Toni. Toni points out that this doesn't even make the news headlines despite the effect her death has had on Iran, the fact that she has become a focus for free speech and democracy... Instead I get to hear more about Peter Andre and Jordan... Most of you are probably wondering who the hell they are....

Eurovision Update

Well I have to say I was pleasantly surprised!

The Russians must have spent a lot of money but they certainly did put on a good show....

The song that won was one I liked. It may or may not have been the best, i can't say, but it was certainly clear that it was the most popular.

There was some political voting but the mix of voting (panel and telephone) meant that it was a lot less prolific. What political voting there was, was less able to affect the outcome. One or two countries received a political 12 but they knew it was without meaning for their song and didn't look so happy.....

We finished on the top half of the board where we belonged! I think the UK is an odd stepping stone in Europe. We don't have the same close ties of say the Scandinavian countries, or ex-communist countries. So we have fewer countries who vote out of friendship or politics. We also would never encourage others to vote for us for the wrong reasons..... It is easy for us to languish at the bottom of the scores.....

The contest is changing. People did not appreciate flagrant abuses of the rules and it showed. One country used the rule that singer had to be on stage and singing live to have a shadowy person at the back while five lovely ladies danced and one of them mimed... The song wasn't bad but people didn't appreciate being played like this. They were pretty near the bottom.

So i think the Eurovision has a future. It is still political but it is back to being a contest again, which is what it needs to be in order to survive.

A Quilt of People

i am sat here watching the Eurovision Song Contest. For those elsewhere who may not know about this, I shall endeavour to describe it a little...

This is a song contest that takes place in Europe each year. Each country sends someone to perform a song previously unperformed to represent their country. When I was a child it took place on one night but now there are semi-finals over two nights before the final contest. With the dissolution of the old Russia empire and the splitting of some communist countries the number of eligible countries has soared. Some countries from outside normaly accepted borders of Europe also take part, including Israel and Morocco.

Four countries do not take part in the semi-finals because they supply large amounts of cash towards the running of the contest and took part right from the contests beginning. The UK is one of these. I have no idea if this is fair or not really but what definitely isn't fair is the political voting that has in previous years ensured that the best song doesn't win. Certain groups of countries always support each other. Sometimes countries whose relations are less than cordial support each other. Voting can be a fascinating political insight.... In order to try and get away from this half of the score will be from voting and the other from an independent panel this year... Let's hope it becomes a more light hearted contest where the best song is able to win....

Sitting here watching it though. I am reminded of what a tiny part of Europe we are, this little nest of islands. We have our own European culture but we also have much in common with the USA and Canada. It is easy, sat here sometimes, to forget how diverse Europe is. National dress varies, even in glitzy modern form. People look different, Scandinavians are often blond, Italians and Spaniards are often dark haired. Polish people often have very interesting cheekbones.

For all our differences in looks, culture and politics, the contest is a reminder of how much alike we are. United by pop and fashion. Well nearly anyway.... It is like a lovely old patchwork quilt. Maybe some pieces of fabric go well together and others don't but put it altogether and you have something that is sooo much more than any one small part. Each fabric comes with a story or two. I am part of this.

So far I am liking Greece's entry the most but Armenia was pretty good too.....

The UK has become a little disenchanted with the contest though. Terry Wogan, a lovely Irishman, has retired from being our commentator and has been suceeded by another lovely Irishman, Graham Norton. Wogan's comments on the political voting were one of the most amusing parts.....

In an attempt to try and turn it back into a contest the UK have rallied and summoned the very best entry we can... We had a TV series hosted by Andrew Lloyd Webber who has written a song and I think is going to play the piano in the entry too... The winner of the series, Jade, was selected by us and we are behind her all the way.... Maybe we will make it into the top half of the score board this year....

Memory

Tis a strange thing, like glass, sometimes blurry, sometimes clear and other times completely dark. My childhood is pretty blurry, where I can see it at all.

I remember a heavy fall of snow followed by winds. A nearby lane had fields with no hedges bordering it and the snow had swept across forming huge drifts. I remember walking with my parents, jumping in the drifts, being hauled out by my Dad. I have never seen snow like it since.

I remember hot summers days dawning in clear cool blue mornings. Going into the garden with bare feet and feeling the mud and the dew between my toes. Later cool air could be found under the apple trees, lying in the long luscious grass. The houses stone floor small windows meant it was always cool downstairs. Upstairs it would be hotter.

Dusk would see me lying on my back in the grass watching the bats fly overhead, swooping and turning. I would leave my small window under the eaves open all night, to let the cool air in. I would awaken to bird song and reflected green light on my ceiling.

One night sticks out in my mind. It was hot and my sister and I wore thin cotton nighties. We knew my parents had gone out and as they left my sister came to my room as my window ad a better view. We peered out under the eaves at a sky turned red and unkind.

Some of our near neighbours owned a couple of fields and a barn. That night the barn burnt to the ground. The thatch cottage nearest the barn was at risk but the flaming soot didn't settle there.

Why did this fire touch me so? The farmer and his wife had two dogs. The dogs slept in the barn. The farmer went in to get the dogs but one turned back, seeking the comfort of it's bed perhaps. The farmer had to be restrained from going back in. The other dog tried to go back in, to it's mate but they held it back.

My child's brain struggled with all the emotions of this. Why did the dog go back in? How did the farmer feel when he failed to rescue them both and was stopped from going back in? How the dog left alone feel?

It was my very first encounter with death. The sky was beautiful that night.

Go to Carla's blog, Leafdays, to see more memories!

Findings

I love it when new people visit my blogs. It inspires me to go and visit theirs and have a little poke around to see what I can find.

Wendy commented on my blogs last night and caused to me to have such a rummage and I found two little gems!

Firstly Postmuse. I have found the delights of PostSecret and Postcross and making postcards but this is a new one. The writer of this blog has a huge collection of postcards but came to the realisation that blank cards are not as much fun as ones with writing and stamps and postmarks. The aim is to send all the postcards to people who have either visited or live at the places on the cards so they can write a little about them and send them back, complete with local stamps and postmarks.

I love this idea!

I hope to get a few cards sent to me so i can write about them and send them back!

The second is the Save the Words campaign. Apparently hundreds of words are dropped from dictionaries each year and are slowly forgotten about... This website allows you to adopt a poorly word. I adopted gipseian which means of the gypsies or belonging to the gypsies.

The Jigsaw in my Head (a work forever in progress)

I had a post in my head last night but the lure of the bath and a good book to finish before bed was just sooooo tempting, I couldn't resist.

The post is linked to the book anyhow. I tend to have two books on the go at a time: a bath book for when I spend time in the bathroom and a car book for reading at work during lunch. My just finished bath book was Forests of the Heart by Charles de Lint and my car book is Brida by Paulo Coelho.

Earlier this year, our wonderful British TV stations aired two series that I series linked and found very interesting: Christianity, A History and Around the World in 80 Faiths. Both of these series spent a little time in South America. I hadn't understood how christianity has been taken by other countries and merged with their older believes. I hadn't known that christianity is so much more vibrant in other countries. I had no idea.

I love the way these peoples are taking the best of both and combining it to suit themselves. I think we did this ourselves a long time ago, hence the enshrining of many of our folk religion dates in the Christian calendar. We did it when we created Celtic Christianity in the Dark Ages. Celtic Christianity was what grew from the Celts mystical roots when the Romans left and took their political Roman Catholic church with them. I believe it was a view of christianity that was far truer to Jesus's vision than the church Constantine created.

I think that the spirit of christianity that lives in South America is far closer to Celtic Christianity. There seems to be a much more mystical touch to both. The spirits of the spirit world can live far more easily alongside Celtic Christianity and the other newer, more vibrant forms of Christianity arising around the world.

In Forests of the Heart, one of the main characters is a Curandera from the Sonara Desert who also has a strong faith but manages to combine the both. I had never realised before that this combining is something common to where she came from, to varying degrees, not something unique to her character in her book.

It also helps me understand Paulo Coelho's background and writings better. I can understand now where his religious, spiritual, mystical stories draw on the growing and changing culture of his homeland. Although Brida is set in Ireland, the same energy of Paulo as a writer is there.

It also helps me fit in the writings of Carlos Castaneda which read some years ago. It is as if by understanding a bit more of what is going on down in South America, it has helped me link together several pieces of the jigsaw that is this world. I like it when things come together in my head and some understanding is reached. I find a great satisfaction in learning and an even greater one in understanding.

Word Wednesday: Fur

I have a habit of plucking a word out of thin air and then having no idea what to write about... I thought really hard last night after choosing fur about what I could write and this is what I came up with...

My Gran came from a different era, where if your husband could afford to buy you a fur coat, you were a lucky, lucky lady. She had two. They sat in her wardrobe like two large funeral shrouds. They were thick and heavy and shapeless in their old fashioned, long coated style. She loved them, although I have few memories of her ever wearing them.

Times changed and attitudes with them. To actively wear fur in this country now is asking for trouble! When she died, we didn't really know what to do with them. Neither I, nor my sister, wanted them. Truth be told I am not really sure what my parents did with them in the end, maybe they went to a charity shop, maybe they went in a bin, who knows.

Is all use of fur bad however? I am not a vegetarian, I love to eat meat. I don't have anything against leather, it is a useful end for a cow's skin and prevents waste. I have a problem with elephants being driven to the edge of extinction for ivory but not with sustainably farmed ivory from culled animals or already dead animals. (Anyone who thinks elephants shouldn't be culled would do well to look at the National Geographic from last summer which looked at issues. I am not sure what my opinion is or of my right to have one, where the future of elephants is safeguarded and the number of elephants in a park is causing damage to the environment in it's own right.)

I also admire the Native Americans amongst other groups for the way in which they developed their use of the animals they hunted so that hardly anything is wasted. They didn't over hunt and lived in a very sustainable way upon their land. So looking at pictures of lovely hand crafted fur clothing worn in places like Alaska doesn't offend me. There is a real and genuine need for the clothes that are made as they are better than the artificial offerings made of synthetic things. I find it hard to imagine the meat of these animals being wasted, at the very least they would feed it to their dogs, wouldn't they?

So why were these coats of my Gran's so very offensive? The animals were long dead, from a time when they may well have been cruelly farmed. Surely it would have been more respectful of the animals to carry on wearing to coats to show we valued their loss? We couldn't do it. It felt wrong.

When I die, I hope any part of my body that can be, is used to help some other person live. This includes my skin. I don't however wish to die in order for this to happen. I also see no need for a fur of a dead animal to be wasted as by wasting it, petrochemicals have to be used to produce artificial clothing. I think the problem is when the animals are killed sense-lessly and wastefully in a non-sustainable manner, JUST to make someone look pretty. Killing to eat or keep warm is something else or indeed to safeguard an environment etc. Wasting a parts of an animal because of our sensibilities is a crime, I think though. If we deem a death necessary, then we should benefit as much as possible from that death.

I could still never have worn those coats or ever consider buying or wearing a fur coat though...

Stand and Deliver (Word Wednesday: North)

The word North conjures many images in my mind. It is the direction that cold weather comes from. The United Kingdom is stretched from North to South alongside Europe. For me, in Cornwall, traveling anywhere generally means traveling North. This is my rational explanantion for why the word North immediately conjured up two other words to sit with it, Great and Road.

The story of this road which stretches from London to Edinburgh linking two of the countries of the Kingdom began a long, long time ago. With the Romans.

The Romans liked roads. They had to have them in order to link their grand empire and allow the swift movement of goods and legions. They were the arteries of the empire. The Romans are famed for building straight roads, they didn't go round, they took the straightest route.

One of these roads is know known as Ermine Street or the Old North Road. In 1012 it was called Earninga Straete but it's original Roman name has been lost. The Earningas were a tribe which inhabited the area the road passed through. It began at London and proceeded to Lincoln before ending at York.

From York Dere Street stretches north named for the Anglo-Saxon kingdom of Deira. It passed through Hadrian's Wall which was built across the width of northern England to keep the Pictish tribes of Scotland. Later on it was called Via Regia or the Royal Way and was used by Scottish pilgrims visiting the ecclesiastical sitesof the border lands between Scotland and England.

After the Romans left their roads remained, stone set in the ground and it is not surprising that the later inhabitants would use them. To be fair it was the ancestors of these people that would have provided much of the labour. Traveling north by the easiest route would have brought people to this road. All those feet would have kept it clear of trees and plants and ensured it's survival.

Towns grew up along the road. Some started as Roman settlements or fortifications while others started after the Romans had long gone. Many villages grew because of the road as they looked after the travellers and it is ironic that these settlements that grew on this road eventually caused it to change it's way. The great A1 road follows much of the route of these two great Roman roads but where the Roman roads went through the towns the A1 has had to bend itself round the towns. In many places the A1 has been upgraded to a motorway with six lanes of traffic. What would the Romans make of it?

I can not talk about this road without talking about the most famous person to make their living from it. For two centuries the the road was used as a stage coach route from 1650s to 1850s. Coaching Inns were successful in the towns along the way and the public stage coaches took paying customers and goods. They changed horses at the coaching Inns and made scheduled stops. As well as these rich Lordly folk used the route in their private coaches. All fantastic prey for highwaymen.

Dick Turpin was the most famous of these and his cultural image has become confused with his partner in crime, the Gentleman Highwayman. Dick was a failed Butcher turned cattle rustler who fell in with the notorious Gregory Gang of ~20 based in Epping Forest. They specialised in robbing isolated dwellings but were eventually tracked down and several gang members were hanged. Turpin escaped through a window.

Dick turned to robbing travellers on the highway and before long was working by himself. One day Turpin attempted to rob a man only to discover it was the Gentleman Highwaymen himself who was equally famous at the time and they became partners. Turpin eventually became a murderer and he also stole the grand horse known as Black Bess.

The horse was Turpin's downfall as it was used to trace Turpin and when surrounded Turpin accidentally shot his accomplice and believing him dead he fled on his horse. The Gentleman Highwayman was not dead, yet, and as he lay dying he told of their hiding places. Turpin returned to his hideout and quickly realised he had to flee. So began his legendary ride from London to York, 200 miles in 15 hours (not very likely) and so reached York before news of his deeds.

Turpin took the name John Palmer and turned to horse breeding but didn't have a clue and turned to rustling again. He was sent to jail as a debtor and from there sent a letter to relatives in Essex. Unfortunately they refused to pay the postage and the letter fell into the hands of the postmaster who had been Turpin's childhood teacher. He recognised the writing and turned Turpin in. Ironically Turpin was hung by a reformed member of the Gregory Gang who had been offered life as a hangman in exchange for a pardon.

D-Day and the Ox

Today has been pencilled in my diary for nearly three months for today was the day I had to go and see the dietician again and be weighed. I spent last night trying to sleep, badly. I had dreams with ominous overtones. I kept waking up and sleeping only lightly. I got up feeling drained.

The dietician however gave me some good news. I have lost a stone since I last saw her. That pleasure didn't last long as I had to go to work. By the end of the day I felt completely vacant and miserable. There are moves afoot and people are moving about and the possibility of me being offered a contract draws closer. I know I should be grateful, particularly at this time... I spend my days bored, despite the radio and nice colleagues and come home drained and with very tired eyes.

I know it is the time of the new moon and maybe this has something to do with how I feel today. It is actually a special new moon as it heralds the beginning of the new chinese year. The year of the Ox. I am going to retreat from my current job to times past...

Many years ago my parents took my sister and I to a chinese restaurant. We kept going back and when I was a little older, they offered me a job. I worked there on and off over many years until my move down here. I know if I was ever living near by there would be a job waiting for me. If my life ever took a real turn for the worse the job would include a small cubicle in the flat above the restaurant.

The various people I worked with gave me a fascination with the Chinese way of life. I would not say I know much about it. The average working Chinese person doesn't tend to talk of home too much. This brings back memories of the families at home, wives they send money to, children living with grandparents.

They tried in vain to teach me some Cantonese and I did eventually manage to learn a few words. The problem is, it is a tonal language. This means pitch conveys meaning to and alters a word. Sounds can be low, medium or high and some may rise or fall. So the language is actually sung. It was a long time before I got my ear in enough to be able to hear the things they were trying to teach me. The best pronounciation i ever achieved was when they were trying to get me to remember some word and I couldn't. I came out with the first sounds that hit my brain, which unfortunately happened to be an extremely clear pronounciation of a word for female genitalia. This caused my friends considerable amusement, as they had certainly never taught me that word.

Of course the best area where I experienced a postive cultural exchange, as oppose to friendship was in the matter of food. Working there I used to eat with them after work and one Christmas they invited me to their special Christmas meal. The food they ate was often very different from the food they served. They also appreciated delicacies that most Brits would perhaps avoid, such as kung po eel (eel done in chillis). Although I ate this, I have no idea what eel tastes like as the chillis were all I could taste.

In hindsight I can see that they very carefully educated my taste buds so that by the time they invited me to join them for their special meal, I could enjoy it. They had bought special ingredients in Soho and some had been bought from Malaysia and Hong Kong and saved for this meal. Some of the things I ate are not things I would ever order, on principle. We had abalone, ancient chinese mushrooms, shark fin soup and more. I felt honoured to be invited to join them at the only time they could ever all take time off to eat together before midnight.

One day I was sat with two friends with an interest in such things. In my head there was a gentle image of forest and a river as we talked. One of them turned to me and said, I can see you right now as a Oriental man on a boat on a jungle river wearing one of those large straw hats. The other thought for a moment and agreed. I explained the picture in my head but said I could not see the man. They told me to shut my eyes and look at the reflection in the river. And then I saw what they saw.

So this year of the Ox, what does it mean? Apparently it is a year of honest hard and tireless work. The Ox is apparently the right sort of an animal to clear up messes and boy do we need that right now. No one gets a free ride though... A year without frills doesn't have to be without thrills though I guess, not when you have so much free nature on your doorstep. And weather is the greatest show out! So I guess the year of the Ox is a good year for diets... I hope... can I go and get a Chinese take away now? please?

Spring is Coming

The world seems to be waiting for Spring right now in oh so many ways. It is Winter and it is cold and in some places it is really, really cold. Here we have had hale, ferocious winds, thunder and lightning. But yet Spring is coming... Yesterday there was a flower seller in truro with Cornish Daffodils. I bought a bunch of ten for 65p and they are now on my mantle piece opening in the warmth. Spring comes here first in the UK, well after it hits the Scilly Isles of our coast. If Spring is coming here then it will certainly arrive elsewhere to, even if they are in the midst of blizzards, the sun has started to win.

Spring is coming to the states as well. Powerful magic of change. I don't ever remember a new president being greeted with such excitement. The way people campaigned quietly to get him into power with icons on their blogs. Reya in Washington DC gives a fantastic sense of the way this energy is developing in her blog. For someone not in the states, it is this sort of thing that really helps us understand how people feel but it is this blog called Quaker Pagan Reflections that explained it. May Barack help bring in a new Summer for the world.

The world sorely needs Spring to come right now. Even the western world feels strapped for cash right now. The knock on affects on the poorest countries havn't much been talked about, but they have to be there. We have all seen the shops closing and heard of people losing their jobs, even if it hasn't really started to hurt us personaly yet. What worries me is it is all the independent companies that are going first. I don't want to see a world where multi-nationals own everything, where Tesco is pretty much the only place to buy food. I guess everybody is pulling in their belts right now, which makes it even more important where we spend what we have. Reconciling the two is hard...

I would love to think that times like this encourage a grey market where people do for themselves and trade with others. Be it spare produce from the garden or help building an extension. Only it seems to me that this might not be in the interests of the governments as it is hard to tax and shows little profit. It also hurts the multinationals with which they hold hands so often. There is much legislation that actively hurts small independent producers. I have read about new US safety legislation that will but makers of hand made toys out of business. I have read about people selling produce via honesty tins on their road being sent letters pointing out that they are failing to meet weights and measures legislation in the UK.

Seems to me that the people we need protecting from are less those small producers in our own communities but the large ruthless companies who are target and profit driven. It is after all the target and profit driven attitude that put us in this recession after all... I hope this current economic climate is a winter that will lead to a true Spring and Summer.

There is so much out there about a turning of the world, 2012 theories... I am unsure what to think of these but I do hope that we take this opportunity to change our world for the better because the entire world hangs in the balance right now. Juniper had a nice comment on her blog she wants the world to learn that money doesn't grow on trees, food does. Our obsession with money and gold does nothing but harm and we are killing the world around us. Gold mining itself has a horrendous effect on the environment.

We have to hope that the sun does indeed rise on the world and Summer comes. That Barack soming to power is a sign that spring is coming in the same way that my daffodils are. I choose to believe this.