Yup, it’s time for another trip to see the remains of giant Finn McCool’s Causeway between the North Antrim coast and the Scottish island of Staffa. Of course, I could wax nostaligic about my first time here, when it was still really wild and not part of Theme Park UK and how now there’s yet another visitor centre…

…but, actually, this building is interesting….

Architects Heneghan-Peng have incorporated the concept of basalt columns with A-lines sympathetic to the coastline itself…

  Another example of how, in my opinion, new blends successfully with old.

We don’t take the tourist bus down to the Causeway itself – it’s only a short walk – but when we arrive down there, there are plenty of tourists crawling like ants over these amazing columns…

In places the mostly hexagonal blocks of solidified lava have been rubbed smooth and shiny as polished stone…

It’s easy to see why this place has been named one of the wonders of the world. And, no doubt about it, this coastline is beautiful… We also fit in a walk between Portrush and Portstewart, following the Causeway Coast Way, coinciding with the long distance path the Ulster Way.

Even though much of this path runs quite close to the coastal road, there is still a great deal of peace and natural beauty…

…and, as with many places in Ireland, a little bit of folklore chucked in for good measure…

This is supposed to be the grave of an unknown sailor to which there seems dedicated the poem…

He sleeps in the green spot that fronts the sea/filled with the murmur of the chastened wave/that lifts the smooth dark wrack so quietly/the sun-warmed bed his grave…

Seamus Heaney it ain’t, in my opinion, but hey, it’s the sentiment that counts, and you certainly get that in Ireland!

Cormorant

dedicated to the memory of Seamus Heaney

So often I have seen the S of the neck

the black majesty of its poise

steady on a post or other construct

the glossy outline affirming estuary’s flow

its inky darkness almost two dimensional,

rock-still, so that even though I stand and wait,

willing the cormorant to move,

it outwits me with its acceptance

of eddy and of tidal race, watching, watching…

How wise to know when to stretch and dry the wings

to catch the warm breeze or benefit from arctic chill,

to know the precise moment, the exact now

to open up into that vast span

profiling water’s surface in unhurried scoop

before flying entirely away, away,

leaving vast expanse of empty sky.

It’s been a turbulent week. The situation in Syria has been so BIG that it makes it difficult to even begin to write about anything else. Compared to the suffering and horror, what right or significance does a writer have to focus on the small? But the world seems to have an infinite capacity for both, and actually, we can’t always focus on injustices, because wouldn’t we just shrivel up into something weak and ineffectual…to add a seasonal simile…like a rotten crab-apple….?

So when my husband grabs some photos of our resident hedgehog on his phone, what else can I do but share them…

This delightful little creature has been a frequent visitor to our garden in recent days. He was actually born in the hedge next door, but who is he (or she) to know that it’s polite to use the garden gate rather than barging under the fence? But despite all our simpering and so called moral rectitude, isn’t that what warring factions are doing in Syria? Somewhere along the line, humanity still seems to lack respect, and whilst appreciating that humanity isn’t and never will be squeaky clean (like our hedgehog, who seems to spend an inordinate amount of time scratching and losing balance as he bumbles around the garden), perhaps it’s still better to strive, and above all to talk to each other…

This little fellow doesn’t seem to be afraid of us, or of the light (I always thought hedgehogs did their bumbling by night), but seems quite content to capitalize on my husband’s path-weeding which reveals a harvest of ants. At least one creature’s not going hungry… and by focussing on the small, it doesn’t mean my compassion is diminished, it just means that I can maintain the strength to offer something to the larger debate…

August Bank Holiday, and what better way to spend the day at Cresswell Crags in the Great Outdoors?

Lots to see…or is there….? I can’t see much…

Yes…you have it…. we’ve signed up to one of the cave tours in this limestone gorge on the Nottingham/Derbyshire border…
First we don the helmets, then we listen to the guide…these caves were inhabited 14,000 years ago (about as far north as any remains have been found) and this is where they had a go at rock art…

It’s the so-called “Church Hole” (hole meaning cave), and this art was only discovered ten years ago. Church Hole is on the Northern Notts side, the coldest, whereas on the sunnier south (Derbyshire), there was, apparently, more living activity….

How’s this for a Des Res?….

Anyway, it’s inside Church Hole for us, but not far. We can see the Sistine Chapel of the Stone age in daylight (broad or otherwise, judge for yourself)…

Somewhere here there are, according to the Spanish, many, many paintings. According to the British, apparently, there’s a more conservative estimate….namely, a few….and thereby lies yet another international squabble which we could do without…
However, we’re all agreed on one thing, and that is, this is an important find.

It may not look much to you, but there’s evidence of an ibex here, or was it a bison, or a bird? It’s difficult to see, but with the aid of our helpful guide, we actually do spot the outline of something… This ain’t exactly Michelangelo, but it is tremendously exciting. So many questions unanswered, but it seems that our forbears used the natural shape of the limestone, together with pointed flint tools and pigment to make paints. The latter has mostly been lost, but what does remain are the notched grooves towards the bottom right-hand side of the picture. There is speculation that this is some kind of calendar which could be linked to religious belief. In fact there are several pieces of work that point to this cave having religious or ritual significance. Before it was gated off, a fair number of more contemporary “cave men” have done their bit to the walls of this cave…apparently some children (now grown men) have since admitted to adding a goatee to the goat…way before it was discovered by academics…Fair do’s, as they say…

Tour over, and we emerge again to take a look around the gorge…

…followed by a stone age cappuccino in the stone age restaurant…and if you believe that, you’ll believe anything…

Judging by the colour of the Rowan berries, you’d think it a little late in the year to go hunting the cuckoo, but here we are, out on a cloudy day in mid-August, doing just that. Only, it isn’t the feathered variety we’re looking for, it’s the trail of the old narrow boats known as Cuckoo Boats, a particularly low-slung boat suitable for navigating the old Chesterfield canal.

Little tell-tale signs of an industrial past, but not a cuckoo in sight.

Apparently, shipbuilding and trade routes began on the Trent in medieval times, but this canal wasn’t completed until 1777, in response to demand to export coal, limestone and lead from Derbyshire, and iron from Chesterfield, as well as a variety of goods inland. Apparently, too, the stone quarried in South Anston and transported along this canal was used for Westminster Palace and also to rebuild the Houses of Parliament following a fire in the 1830’s.

We set out from a section near Walkeringham in Nottinghamshire, Brickyard Lane to be precise, where these days, the “Cuckoo Way” is a peaceful stretch for nature lovers to enjoy.

We head north-east from bridge 77…

passing beneath bridge 78…

…bridge 79….

…80…81…

…82…

….82a….

…you get my drift…

….someone’s been building a heck of a lot of bridges round here…and a lock or two… And just past Misterton we approach the junction where canal meets Trent and the River Idle at West Stockwith Basin…

From here you can head to Goole or Torksey if the fancy takes you…

Once, this area was a hive of activity, with villages supporting the rope, flax, malt and joinery industries, not to mention local boat and ship building. Thus, firms like the Chesterfield Canal Company and Richard Furley & Sons did a brisk trade in hiring out Cuckoo Boats to those wishing to transport flour and other farm-produced goods…as well as all that other stuff. In and out of West Stockwith, transporting it from areas West and loading it on to ships for transportation to markets way beyond the Trent.

For walkers this marks the end of the Cuckoo Way (which also coincides with the end for its big brother, the Trent Valley Way). Time to turn round. I wonder if those bridges look the same from the other direction…

On yet another pleasant summer’s night, we zipped along to Bar 67 in Lincoln, and who did we come across strutting their stuff but the marvellous musicians Adam Piggott and Jayne Freeman. Not sure which genre of music they slot into, but seeing as I’m not that interested in categories, I just sat back and enjoyed their eclectic mix of folk, Neil Young and their own wonderfully penned numbers in this bar that seems to attract small (but perfectly formed, as they say) audiences. Have I won the competition to use the most clichés in one small paragraph yet, I am wondering, before I start wondering about next Thursday’s 67 event which comprises story telling, I am reliably informed. Not with too many clichés, I hope.

Where else to spend a warm and sunny weekend than the “desolate” North-East?

From the hordes of tourists in delightful Whitby…

to the more peaceful Runswick Bay…

and the even quieter delights of the coastal stretch of the Cleveland Way…

There’s something here for everyone….this weekend was the Lifeboat weekend, raising funds for the priceless work the crews do, which meant a host of extra attractions, including some fine vintage cars parked along the pier.

To round it off, we visited  the curious La Rosa Hotel… where on Sundays throughout the summer there’s a fantastic opportunity to visit the secret world of Professor Ambrose Merryweather. The show’s puppeteer, Vivien Mousdell, shows us into the dark cellars of Victoriana and inveigles us into history, timelessness, our own transience and laughter…

Her aim is to “to delight & amaze folk of all ages(from 7 to 107!) Summer SUNDAYS  11am & 2pm until 8th Sept at La Rosa, 5 East Terrace, Whitby YO21 3HB. All seats £4.  Bookings:  01947 606981

Appollogees, I’m stepping up onto my sope bocks now…

Have you noticed, like I have, the number of glaring spelling mistakes online? Not just the odd typo on Facebook, but I’m talking, in blogs and news articles. I guess people are just too busy to check or proofread. And some of them just plain never learned spelling at school.

As far as mistakes are concerned, I’m sure I’m as big a culprit as anyone. And guess what? Apart from noticing it, I don’t much care. As someone who spent ten years teaching adult literacy, what I consider to be important is the message – if someone’s got something to say, let ’em say it, no matter if it’s a little skew…

If you’re a writer, then you’re probably looking at precision. You’re looking at all the subliminal messages that shabby writing and poor use of punctuation can communicate and how dodgy spelling can detract from the meat of what you’re trying to say…a bit like having a piece of steak and slathering it with salty strawberry jam, if you get my drift…

But if you’re someone trying to get a message across, human to human, just go for it. Sometimes, I think,  people become too obsessed with the less important aspects of daily life and don’t notice the genuine message of humanity between us…

How can anyone visit such an astonishing tourist attraction as the Eden Project and not take their camera? Especially when it’s a sunny day and the flowers are a rainbow and I just think I’m in heaven…. Oh well, if I must leave my camera in the tent back at the campsite where we’re staying, then I guess I’ll have to take it on the chin…

From the Rainforest Biome (the huge greenhouse-type structures that resemble almost inflated golf balls) to the Mediterranean Biome, from the education centre to the amazing beds of plants for dyes, medicinal plants, vegetables, herbs, decorative flowers to the word art, sculptures such as the WEE Man (made out of electrical junk) or the famous Driftwood Horse, this is the place for me, even though I’ve been banging on about the environment for more than thirty years, and the strip of destroyed forest that illustrates what’s happening at an alarming rate to forest in Indonesia has me close to tears.

I’m just in time to climb up to survey the canopy from the wobbly viewing point in the Rainforest in 34° before it closes for H & S reasons (too hot). There’s something for everyone here, children, older people…and really good disabled access, too. I have it on good authority, that the live gigs are fantastic, so might be worth checking out: http://www.edenproject.com/sessions/

This place is intelligently put together as well as being really beautiful, and importantly, as my brain seems to be situated in my stomach these days, some yummy eateries… This may sound like an advert but it’s a really inspiring place, so I’d more than recommend a visit. Oh, and don’t forget your camera…

Addendum: fortunately A.N.Other has a camera on his phone, just to give you a flavour…

Going to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park feels a little like entering the world of Alice in Wonderland. First, you find your way through a dark hole…

and then you meet with some mad-looking rabbit….

…some headless people…

…and find a door that isn’t a door…

All looking very beautiful at this time of year…

Apart from the sculptures and the joy of ambling through the country park, we’re spoiled by the sighting of a heron, only a couple of yards away, poised so still I think at first that it’s a statue… but we can’t hang about, we’re off to Leeds to meet up with the wonderful Epic poets…