Twilight Tales and Merely a Stroll

A short and sweet blog post this week.  

Following our catch up with friends at the weekend (and a cheeky afternoon glass of wine for me), I indulged in a spot of windscreen photography on the twilight journey home.  Before we proceed, I probably should point out that I wasn't driving.  Quaffing wine and handling a camera whilst driving a car would of course get a swift driving ban and a spell in prison!

Windscreen photography as I call it, is something I frequently do, as it enables me to capture familiar scenes from a different perspective.  The sun was setting and the landscape took on mauve hues and a golden lustre.  

This cyclist, with his light illuminating his route home, was a gift.  

I managed to catch a glimpse of the setting sun through our Beetle's rear window.

This tree, whilst not perfect (ISO noise and slight motion blur) was still a shining example.

Much of this week has been consumed by other more mundane activities.  In addition, the incessant wind and a minor foot injury has put paid to many outdoor explorations...so let's fast forward to this weekend.

Last night was my first Islamic house wedding shoot, and what an experience!  I had a 10 minute heart stopping period early on when my photos in preview suddenly appeared to be partially blacked out.  After running a few tests and with 20 minutes to spare before the groom was due to arrive, I made a frantic phone call to my mentor, Jenny, who conducted a quick telephone trouble shoot and then went off to Google the issue.  Within minutes she had a suggestion, which mercifully worked a treat!  Of course it's Murphy's Law that I had tested my little used flash all week, without issue and the one time it decided to test my sanity was on a job!

After that, the evening went relatively smoothly.  Set to a soundtrack of ululations and Islamic wedding songs, my biggest challenges were not treading on anyone's toes, not being distracted by the incredible outfits and henna tattoos and not getting some of the elders - who did not wish to be photographed - in shot.

Until I have edited the 100 plus photos and delivered them to the clients, I am unable to share any here.  However, here's a photo from a previous wedding shoot.  Here, the bride, Leyla, wears her red henna hand decorations with pride.  Aren't they exquisite?

I have only experienced the riotous sound of the ululation first hand once before, at Leyla's wedding.  However, last night's ululations were confined to four walls, so the neighbours would have been in no doubt that there was an almighty celebration taking place.  

The practice is rooted in the culture of North Africa, but is pretty widespread, reaching central-south Asia, the Middle East and even parts of Europe such as Cyprus.  It has also been adopted by certain Jewish communities.  However, one ululation doesn't necessarily sound like another.  Each has its own unique sound.  

Ululations denote joy, celebration, victory and honour, and have also been used in prayer, hunting and resistance against colonial powers.  The roots of the sound go way back to the ancient civilisations of Greece and Egypt, appearing on the inscription of the pyramid texts of Unas.  Homer mentions ololuge (ululation) in his works, as does Herodotus, citing ululation in North Africa - where it is still practiced - saying: 

 "I think for my part that the loud cries uttered in our sacred rites came also from thence; for the Libyan women are greatly given to such cries and utter them very sweetly."

With my ears ringing, I bid my farewells at the end of my allotted time, but not before my hosts insisted on issuing me with a carrier bag full of Indian foodie treats to take home with me.  The kindness of strangers!

This afternoon, we took a leisurely stroll to a favourite spot close to Enville - Mere Mill; a Grade II listed, early 19th century red brick, tiled roof water mill.   There were puddles and overflowing ditches courtesy of the gloomy weather.

Mere Mill has suffered from an air of abandonment and neglect for as long as I can remember, but there is something magical about it.  The area surrounding the mill is devoid of road noise, the only sounds being running water and the rustling of trees.

https://www.facebook.com/100000164335945/videos/389907776468964/

I took a short video of the location to capture said tree rustling and running water.  Those of you with keen hearing might just be able to pick out the timeless sound of clinking bottles.  The story behind this is thus.

Whilst many locals are unaware of this building, sadly a few determined fly tippers seem to periodically make a pilgrimage to the mill, leaving anything from plant pots and a child car seat to today's discovery.  I heard Gareth tut at a carrier bag full of empty bottles.  His wombling instinct kicked in and he picked up the bag of bottles to add its contents to our recycling at home.  The weight of the bag immediately suggested that the bottles were not empty.  On further investigation, there were no less than 6 bottles of wine - still corked and sealed.  They had obviously been there for some time...but then wine ages well.  

Did we bring them home?  That is the question. I'll leave you to ponder on that.

 

January Made Me Shiver

How bin ya? (As they say in these parts). Well I wish I could say that I've partied as much as the UK government or experienced as much adrenalin as Prince Andrew in the week since my last blog, but I can't.  The past seven days have bled into each other; a blur of work, eating, screen time, sleep and repeat.  

My sleep has been troubled this week and I've certainly had no need for an alarm call - a woodpecker has ensured that I've been wide awake by 6.30 every morning.  We sleep with the window open most evenings (Lotte's escape route, plus I like fresh air), so this has eased the sonic flow of woodpecker drilling into my ears.  Did you know that woodpeckers drill not just for insects, but to make their nests - essentially hollows in tree trunks?  Even more impressive, when you consider the impact of drilling wood on a Woodpecker's tiny bird skull, is the fact that many of their nests could easily accommodate a duck!

On the subject of birds, Robin's were always referred to as "red breasts" because the first recorded use of the word orange as a colour name in English was not until 1502 in a description of clothing purchased for Margaret Tudor.

I discover all of these little gems during nocturnal reading sessions.  

Winter has really delivered this week and courtesy of sleep deprivation, icy roads and a pressing deadline, I haven't gone far.  These photos were taken around 10 paces from our front door earlier in the week. 

I have also grappled with a rather weighty issue - my hair.  It probably needs a trim, but the length is giving me more versatility to try out new styles, like this twenties hairstyle (inspired by the forthcoming Peaky Blinders series and my love of the era's fashion), involving Dutch braids, a small plaited bun and multiple hair partings.

There!  Apart from my scruffs and the unglamorous bathroom selfies, I'm all ready for the new roaring twenties.

This week's additional screen time has largely been devoted to completing the script I've been working on.  

Last year I made a promise to myself to submit it to the annual BBC Writer's Room Open Call.  It's really been more of a challenge to myself; a case of "I've started, so I'll finish", rather than being borne out of any expectation of being identified as the next Jed Mercurio.  However, when I realised on the morning of yesterday's midday deadline that our internet was down, I confess to almost having a little cry.  A screenwriter on Twitter attempted to come to my aid, but fortunately, my prayers to the cyber gods were answered and at precisely 11.58 am I hit the SUBMIT button, spotted the acknowledgment drop into our inbox and promptly headed out into the mist of the National Trust managed Kinver Edge.  Talk about flying by the seat of your pants!

Thursday was quite simply magical.  The beguiling partnership of a hoar frost and rolling mist set the scene first thing, but unusually the mist didn't dissipate as the day worn on.  Instead, the sun broke through in spectacular style, sending sun beams from the heavens and shards of light in amongst the trees....

picking out pathways, foliage and spider's webs...

 ...and making it very difficult at times to distinguish tree trunks from shadows.  

We were so in awe of the ever changing landscape, 

that we spent around two hours soaking it all in and chatting with other walkers and photographers, marvelling at the vista,

until sunset.

And so, to this morning, 14th January, the day of my birthday and yet another wintry wonderland awaits...and a Covid positive test result for our son (but let's not dwell on the C word).  Here are a couple of shots from our glistening garden.  

It's also Dave Grohl's Birthday (Happy Birthday Dave!  I know you'll be reading) and  National Dress Up Your Pet Day.  I don't fancy my chances of separating Lotte from her pizza box, do you?

On this day in 1514, Pope Leo X issued a papal bull against slavery  and in 1978, the Sex Pistols performed their final show at Winterland, San Francisco.

And there ends the history lesson.

Hand on heart, I am really loving this season, but that's not to say I'm not looking forward.  Finally and tentatively, I feel like making plans in 2022 and the first date on the calendar so far this year is in May, the day I plan to run away with the circus - Giffords Circus to be precise.  It's an enchanting, nostalgia-steeped village green summer circus with a supermodel and rock star fan base.  We went a number of years ago and I've been desperate to return ever since.  This year, Vix and Jon will be joining us.  

Tickets aren't cheap, but they are worth every penny.  So if you find yourselves in the Cotswolds area from April to September, grab a ticket while you still can.  Here's the link   Giffords Circus | Experience the magic of Giffords Circus and brilliant artwork courtesy of Joseph Avery.

Hope you've had a good week.  See you soon!