Little Things, Lasting Satisfaction

 This blog is going to be a little shorter than usual.  Well, let's see.  You know how I have a habit of digressing.

My week has mostly been swallowed up with work, anticipating GCSE results - with the usual side order of media fanfare and pressure - and trying against all odds to contact Severn Trent Water.  I won't bore you with the details and I'll park any negativity here.  This blog is going to be about small things and simple pleasures.

On one of our meandering evening walks through the wood and around, the light was fantastic.  We've reached the time of year when sunny days and balmy nights start to become less frequent, so there's a heightened sense of appreciation when the clouds part, the wind drops and all is still.

The Rowan trees are putting on an impressive display of berries, which should keep the thrush population happy.

The barley looks resplendent with its impressive gold Mohican.  

At the edge of the barley field, we discovered this little package.

For the first time that I can remember, another neighbouring field has been used to grow maize this year, making the right of way passing through the centre much more interesting, as it obscures any view of the busy A449.

On our way back, the gaps between the wood's perimeter trees revealed stunning views of the fields and rolling hills of South Staffordshire (a county which apparently, we could be set to become a part of in 2023 - if proposed boundary changes take place).  The setting sun just kissing the blades of grass and highlighting a nearby farm house caught my eye.  I'm not sure how long we will be able to enjoy this view as a lot of this land is under the capitalist gaze of greedy developers.  I decided to upload this one to the BBC's Weather Watchers (principally to give the parents a buzz).  It made the late bulletin and, as is often the case with my photos, was uncredited.  

As soon as we got home, I opened the small package we had found at the edge of the field to reveal its contents; a crocheted smiley flower keyring with a sweet message inside.  

A random act of kindness that made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside (until I thought about Severn Trent).  It's also given me an idea.

Kicking off the weekend early, I took my mother on a trip to Stratford-Upon-Avon (roughly an hour away), the home of the William Shakespeare.  We parked in Shottery, a stunning little village about a mile west of Stratford and picked up the footpath into town.  We passed this man tending his gorgeous allotment.  

For some reason (probably the rust), this gate caught my attention.  Who said size doesn't matter?

Shrouded by trees and just off a busy roundabout heading into town, we explored the Peony Pavilion set in Stratford's Firs Garden.  This caused quite a stir in Shakespeare's town when it was erected in 2019, with many residents labelling it an eyesore.  I quite like it, especially the sentiment behind it.  It was named after the great work of Tang Xianzu, who lived at the same time and died in the same year as Shakespeare.  To further cement the bonds of friendship, back in the Chinese City of Fuzhou, William Shakespeare's Birthplace is also being recreated.  The pavilion is considered a token of love, courtesy of Tang Xianzu's love story, which has been passed down through the generations over a period of some 400 years.

In town, I was relatively restrained with my photography - it's a real bore for any companion.  Plus, we were distracted by the charity shops.  Whilst the prices were through the roof - anything from £10-£65.00 - I did spot this East with FabIndia skirt for £6.00 and made it mine!

So little things, lasting satisfaction.  

We ate our lunch (M&S sandwiches) in the park next to the theatre.  I surreptitiously photographed this couple, enjoying their fish and chips.  When in such close proximity, a flip screen enabling a live view is key to street photography - the photographer just appears to be looking down at the camera.  It's sneaky, but by far the best way to avoid any potential hostility.  I know I could just ask (and I have in the past) but I really want to avoid the forced pose.

We later passed this bride and groom, although something tells me that this was perhaps not a genuine union. The bride had a face like thunder (nothing to do with me and my camera) and they were walking purposefully somewhere - with no guests in sight.  A photos shoot of some kind perhaps?  Who knows?  I did quite like the matching red tie and Converse shoes.

Talking of thunder, a moody sky and ancient architecture make a great combination.  

Finally, whilst enjoying our drinks outside a nearby pub, who should walk past the Bard's school, but the man himself, with a number of curious tourists in tow.  Talk about walking in the footsteps of giants!

Last night marked a celebratory ("thank-God-the-exams-are-over-and-results-are-in") meal outside at our local.  We arrived in warm sunshine and left under gathering clouds and a chilly breeze.  Still, we managed to savour our food without being stung by a wasp or rained upon.

The Severn Trent issue was also finally resolved by a particularly friendly and helpful member of the team (a team in desperate need of greater staff numbers it transpires), which made me feel a little guilty for my social media assault on the company.  It's a crazy world now.  We have greater means of communication but when it comes to customer service, it's seemingly impossible to achieve a resolution.  Phone calls go unanswered or remain on hold for hours, forcing simple queries to be elevated to the status of a formal complaint.  

Finally - and this will give me lasting satisfaction by making me chuckle inwardly for some time to come - last night, when settling down, drinks poured, to watch another episode of The Trip to Greece (Rob Brydon and Steve Coogan), Gareth called through from the kitchen that he had bought some falafel.  I shouted to him to repeat it a grand total of three times with the words: "Some what?" to which he responded with increasing frustration: "Falafel!" before he realised that I had morphed into This Country's Kerry Mucklow.  How I laughed.

Until next time! x

Love for Ludlow

It's May 1st and still the bothersome weather and frosts continue.  Yet again, our young plants are covered in white fleece.  

The birds continue to ignore the unseasonal weather and are carrying on regardless.  The pond remains host to a lone pond skater, wasps and birds taking a drink.  We're constantly scanning the pond for other signs of life, but, aside from the plants putting on a growth spurt and the marsh marigold flowering (pictured), there's nothing doing.

This blackbird may be handsome, but he's also a thief.  According to him, anything is up for grabs, including our newly laid mind your own business.  He's repeatedly tried (and failed) to carry off great segments of it, only to drop it elsewhere in the garden.  The mind your own business has, as a consequence, finished its business here on earth.

I have plans to sow sweet peas and wild flower seeds, but they remain on hold for now.  I also want to create a herb garden.  Our last herb garden - housed in an old half barrel - finally collapsed when the barrel rotted through.  Most of the herbs had been dwarfed by a particularly vigorous Thyme anyway.  I understand that Monty Don gave a masterclass in growing Mediterranean herbs last night, so I will have to catch up on that later.  

Last week we invested four hours of our life into watching Viewpoint, only to discover on Thursday evening, a media storm following the Guardian's investigation into the numerous unsavoury allegations levelled at its leading actor, Noel Clarke.  The final episode was cancelled, but it was available for a limited time on ITV Hub, so we were able to see the conclusion.  The allegations make for disturbing reading, but talking with my old legal head on, I'm fearful that such powerful perpetrators will ultimately get off the hook if the details are given an airing in the media first.

Speaking of law, I headed to my former stomping ground where I spent my last days as a Legal Executive - Ludlow.   Once the capital of Wales, but now an isolated, but bustling (and quite artistic) market town in Shropshire, Ludlow was an hour long commute for me, taking me up and over the Clee Hills.  It offers the most incredible views on clear days, but also the densest of pea soup fogs in winter.  I clearly remember having to stop my car at the summit and just watch as the fog drifted, in impenetrable clouds, across the road, until it was safe to move forwards.

Photo from my archives from Clee summit

I parked in Corve Street, a particularly handsome street don't you think?  

Corve Street, Ludlow, photographed with my trusty 50mm lens

Many of the properties in Ludlow are contained within long, narrow "burgage" plots laid out in the 12th century.  Some buildings were destroyed in the English Civil War and so whilst they retain their atmospheric medieval cellars, the properties above have early Georgian facades.  Beyond, lie buildings and courtyards ranging in date from from Medieval to Victorian.

This quirky sign, showcasing featured artists by Valentine Fine Art on Corve Street, also caught my eye.  As a child of the late 70s/1980's, no prizes for guessing why.

This photo, of the famous and historic Feathers Hotel, has had more likes than any other in recent months.  It's such an exquisitely detailed building and very cinematic, so it's not hard to see why.  We stayed here some years ago after seeing Rob Newman (of The Mary Whitehouse Experience fame) at the Assembly Rooms.  We later saw him drinking at the same pub as us and then he turned up at breakfast the next morning.  There are no hiding places in Ludlow!

I did notice more people wearing masks in the street in Ludlow.  Understandably, due to its relative isolation and small population, the residents are even more cautious now that there is an influx of visitors.

Here's a glimpse of Broad Street (and the obligatory masked up pedestrian), upon which stands my old office, viewed from the doorway of Ludlow's Buttercross (the rooms above house the town's museum).

That said, the sight of the market in the aptly named Market Square and the sounds of street performers, made life feel something like normal.

I had an al fresco lunch (Tesco Prawn Salad) by the castle walls with this Edgar Allan Poe view.

There's a path that runs adjacent to the castle, which winds down to Dinham Wier.  It's another favourite spot, with the castle dominating the horizon and is transformed into a paddling paradise in the summer months.  By mid June it will be alive with children (and adults) carrying fishing nets and donning rolled up trousers - all very Swallows and Amazons.

Photo from my archives

Ludlow Love, photo from my archives

Inspired by Vix (Vintage Vixen) and Lulu (Long Mizzle Garden), I did visit the town's numerous charity shops, but aside from a beautiful black Labrador guide dog shaking my hand sanitiser-slicked hand, I left empty handed.  It was a day for picking things up, doing a tour of the shop with them and then returning them to the rails.  I wasn't disappointed though.  After months of restrictions, it felt so freeing to just get in the car and drive.  Little old Ludlow may as well have been Las Vegas, such was the level of excitement.  I hope it never wears off.

See you soon!