Whilst I was on holiday I finished the last in the twenty book series of the Aubrey/Maturin books by Patrick O'Brian. This is the third time I have read them. The first time was in random order. The second and third time were in series order. I even annotated the reads on the third pass! It is only recently that I have discovered reading for pleasure. Perhaps it is the new glasses. Perhaps I am getting old or tired of shouting at the TV.
H gave me a book to read "The Time Travellers Guide to Medieval England" by Ian Mortimer. It is written like a traveller's guide, as the title suggests. It was an entertaining, informative and quick read. I was watching a programme on TV the other evening only to find great swathes of the presenters narrative being lifted straight out of this book.
I am not reading anything for the moment. I am hoping H will come up with something. I got a copy of "The Condition of the Working Classes in England" by Frederick Engels whilst on holiday. Not your typical holiday bodice ripper novel. I am a bit scared to start it. Engels toured Britain in the 1840's, especially the industrial NorthWest and was appalled by the conditions the populace endured. I am no political animal so I am not sure I will "enjoy" the read but I might be able to read it as a piece a social history since Engels and his mate, Karl Marx, have Manchester connections both spending time in Manchester considering the plight of the proletariat and Marx writing the Communist Party Manifesto, or part of it, in Ryland's Libary. As we know a bunch of people [The Russians to name but several million] took up his manifesto. It has shaped world history. The grubby herberts toiling in the cotton mills of the NorthWest of England had an impact in the world, unfortunately, well after their time on the planet was past.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Ickle fishy
In preparing for my holidays I put my fishing rods in the back of the car on the off chance I might get near some water. My chance came when I went to stay with my cousins in Lackagh. We was looking out the back door of their house, with a brew, at the huge garden. Cuz said their is "a bit of a river" just through the gate the far side of the field backing on to their boundary. Ok, I'm game. I got my gear together and wandered off to the river with mixture of apprehension and excitement. Less than five minutes walk I was looking over the river. A bit of a river! Welcome to the River Clare!
The river was in a deep valley which sheltered the river from worst of the wind. There were a couple of blokes perched on the bank. Just a bit of a nod and a "howya" as I passed by. They were doing the worm and weight thing despite the fact fish were rising up and down the river. I tackled up my fly rod and made my down to a spot on the bank. It took a while to get the fly casting technique going again. Having given the fish a headache practising casting such a confined space I moved upstream. I tried various flys and techiques. Every now and then I would move pegs and try a different stretch of river. The fish seemed always to out of casting reach. As the sun went down the the fish got really busy. Despite my clumsy casting I bagged a couple of fish. The next time I went I bagged another couple. Same again the next evening. No weighty fish altough there were plenty of big fish rising and rolling. So what did I catch or rather what fish gave themselves up? I caught a couple of Perch! What business have they snapping up my fly? I got a couple of Salmon. If only they were bigger. The best fish was a Brown Trout, perhap a quarter pounder....just. The catch is part of the game as is the chase. So whatever you catch is welcome on a new water. I needed floating line, dry flies and better casting technical to get those big uns.
I can now say that I have caught a wild Salmon and a wild Brownie. As long as no one asks how big they were I won't have to tell a fishman's tale.
The river was in a deep valley which sheltered the river from worst of the wind. There were a couple of blokes perched on the bank. Just a bit of a nod and a "howya" as I passed by. They were doing the worm and weight thing despite the fact fish were rising up and down the river. I tackled up my fly rod and made my down to a spot on the bank. It took a while to get the fly casting technique going again. Having given the fish a headache practising casting such a confined space I moved upstream. I tried various flys and techiques. Every now and then I would move pegs and try a different stretch of river. The fish seemed always to out of casting reach. As the sun went down the the fish got really busy. Despite my clumsy casting I bagged a couple of fish. The next time I went I bagged another couple. Same again the next evening. No weighty fish altough there were plenty of big fish rising and rolling. So what did I catch or rather what fish gave themselves up? I caught a couple of Perch! What business have they snapping up my fly? I got a couple of Salmon. If only they were bigger. The best fish was a Brown Trout, perhap a quarter pounder....just. The catch is part of the game as is the chase. So whatever you catch is welcome on a new water. I needed floating line, dry flies and better casting technical to get those big uns.
I can now say that I have caught a wild Salmon and a wild Brownie. As long as no one asks how big they were I won't have to tell a fishman's tale.
A modest triumph
I have managed to grow carrots! Not a big deal for some people but it is for me. All the carrots I have grown before now have been riddled with Carrot Fly. Not this year. I interplanted Marigolds between the carrot rows. I got the marigolds going early in the greenhouse and planted the marigolds as seedling when I sowed the carrot seeds. I can hardly see the carrots the bed under the cover of marigolds. I guess the carrot fly could not find them either. It might have been the harsh winter that killed off a lot of the adults. Whatever the case, carrot I have. They are not pretty but they are a good size and carrot fly free.
It is not so much the fly, as the maggots of the fly, that are the problem. The fly lays the eggs on the ground next to the carrots. The eggs hatch and the maggots feast on the carrots and in doing so drag soil in the burrrows in the body of the carrots. The carrots are ruined.
It is not so much the fly, as the maggots of the fly, that are the problem. The fly lays the eggs on the ground next to the carrots. The eggs hatch and the maggots feast on the carrots and in doing so drag soil in the burrrows in the body of the carrots. The carrots are ruined.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Onion and Banjo
What is the difference between an Onion and a Banjo?
Nobody crys when you chop up a banjo!
Nobody crys when you chop up a banjo!
Monday, August 23, 2010
MFFF
MFFF = Moira Furnace Folk Festival, click HERE for their website. At Christmas H and the neighbours got all excited about the MFFF. It was the first one last year and the neighbours hadsuch a nice time they thought they would like to do it again. The time has come round. The weather was wet on and off all week. I did the trailer run on Saturday and found the soil a bit wet for digging. I checked the lottie over, collected produce and whipped the heads off any weeds in flower.
H wanted to go to the MFFF which is held at Moira Furnace, surprise surprise, which is just down road from us. Miss L was at work so I got changed from the smeggy lottie clothes to something a bit smarter. We wandered down and having got there wandered about. It was a bit quiet meaning there were not many people about are was it that there were lots of stalls and refreshment vans. The weather must have been a factor nevertheless the two marquees had people performing with an audience in attendance. There were also events on at the local pubs, the Railway, the Woodman and the Miner's Welfare. Moira was wash with Morris men, clog dancers and folks with instrument cases wandering between venues or camped outside a watering hole.
The weather was showery with bright sunny intervals. This meant that folks went inside the pubs when it tipped down and came out with the sunshine. It was like a bizarre cuckoo clock. I traditional festival lore the grass was cutting up muddy at the furnace with the kids loved. We got ourselves a couple of drinks, had a look round a had a listen to a band or two. It was quite mellow. I had to drop Miss L over to a local village hall for an 18th party and on my return we went over to the neighbours, had a few drinks and got a taxi down to the Furnace. Our neighbours negotiated a price for the wristbands which acted as entrance tickets for the various on site venues. A few more beers and a wall to sit on we listened to the acts. They were all good performers it was just a case of whether their music was to your taste. Some were, some where not to my taste bu they were not offensive ans since the sets were only 45 minutes long so it was easy to listen to for bit and if you did not like them go for a wander over to the beer tent and back by which time they were nearing the end. We had a good night. The festival packed up at 11.30 so as to be good neighbours. I behaved as I had to pick Miss L up. We all went back to the neighbours house to catch up with Clarkie and Clare. C&C had meet us at the Furnace. They had come back to the UK for a wedding following nine months travelling in Asia and down under. It was great to see them happy, safe and well. Lucy was picked up a little after 1am which was quite a nice excuse to get away as the neighbours and their friends were getting comfy and the old whiskey was being brought out.
Sunday morning was a washout, H and Miss L were a little worse for wear. I made breakfast for them and pottered about. We had arranged to meet the neighbours and their friends at the Furnace when the events opened at 2pm. H just about made it. Miss L was left to slumber. We walked down but did not see our friends straight away. We had a look round all the stalls, bought a drink then went up to a venue, the loft. This is the top on the Furnace building. In there was gathered a bunch a people mostly performer by a few spectators like ourselves. This was a "singaround". Essentially a self ordered open mike session without a mike. This was the sort of folk music I like. Songs of soldiery and sea faring, of the land and played on traditional instruments. We stayed for an hour or more. Folks just came and went. There was some beautiful harp music, a chap singing a soulful tune for lost love and a ribald tune for 69th Foot Regiment to name the highlights.
We found our buddies on the grass outside the main tent. We found a couple of chair and another drink and settled in the listen to the main stage. The bulk of the acts did a sort of folk rock thing but here are there was a traditional tune rendered in, more of less, a traditional way. The rain stayed away and the sun beat down. More than once I woke up to find I had been asleep. I was not the only one snoozing in the sun. The event wrapped up about 5.30. There was the usual thanks to the various folks involved in the weekend. By all accounts the performers and organisers enjoyed themselves. I am not so sure about the traders. We all strolled home. H made tea. I made the must for Strawberry wine, racked off the Rhubarb wine and checked in on the mead. Everything is looking fine.
H wanted to go to the MFFF which is held at Moira Furnace, surprise surprise, which is just down road from us. Miss L was at work so I got changed from the smeggy lottie clothes to something a bit smarter. We wandered down and having got there wandered about. It was a bit quiet meaning there were not many people about are was it that there were lots of stalls and refreshment vans. The weather must have been a factor nevertheless the two marquees had people performing with an audience in attendance. There were also events on at the local pubs, the Railway, the Woodman and the Miner's Welfare. Moira was wash with Morris men, clog dancers and folks with instrument cases wandering between venues or camped outside a watering hole.
The weather was showery with bright sunny intervals. This meant that folks went inside the pubs when it tipped down and came out with the sunshine. It was like a bizarre cuckoo clock. I traditional festival lore the grass was cutting up muddy at the furnace with the kids loved. We got ourselves a couple of drinks, had a look round a had a listen to a band or two. It was quite mellow. I had to drop Miss L over to a local village hall for an 18th party and on my return we went over to the neighbours, had a few drinks and got a taxi down to the Furnace. Our neighbours negotiated a price for the wristbands which acted as entrance tickets for the various on site venues. A few more beers and a wall to sit on we listened to the acts. They were all good performers it was just a case of whether their music was to your taste. Some were, some where not to my taste bu they were not offensive ans since the sets were only 45 minutes long so it was easy to listen to for bit and if you did not like them go for a wander over to the beer tent and back by which time they were nearing the end. We had a good night. The festival packed up at 11.30 so as to be good neighbours. I behaved as I had to pick Miss L up. We all went back to the neighbours house to catch up with Clarkie and Clare. C&C had meet us at the Furnace. They had come back to the UK for a wedding following nine months travelling in Asia and down under. It was great to see them happy, safe and well. Lucy was picked up a little after 1am which was quite a nice excuse to get away as the neighbours and their friends were getting comfy and the old whiskey was being brought out.
Sunday morning was a washout, H and Miss L were a little worse for wear. I made breakfast for them and pottered about. We had arranged to meet the neighbours and their friends at the Furnace when the events opened at 2pm. H just about made it. Miss L was left to slumber. We walked down but did not see our friends straight away. We had a look round all the stalls, bought a drink then went up to a venue, the loft. This is the top on the Furnace building. In there was gathered a bunch a people mostly performer by a few spectators like ourselves. This was a "singaround". Essentially a self ordered open mike session without a mike. This was the sort of folk music I like. Songs of soldiery and sea faring, of the land and played on traditional instruments. We stayed for an hour or more. Folks just came and went. There was some beautiful harp music, a chap singing a soulful tune for lost love and a ribald tune for 69th Foot Regiment to name the highlights.
We found our buddies on the grass outside the main tent. We found a couple of chair and another drink and settled in the listen to the main stage. The bulk of the acts did a sort of folk rock thing but here are there was a traditional tune rendered in, more of less, a traditional way. The rain stayed away and the sun beat down. More than once I woke up to find I had been asleep. I was not the only one snoozing in the sun. The event wrapped up about 5.30. There was the usual thanks to the various folks involved in the weekend. By all accounts the performers and organisers enjoyed themselves. I am not so sure about the traders. We all strolled home. H made tea. I made the must for Strawberry wine, racked off the Rhubarb wine and checked in on the mead. Everything is looking fine.
Back from hols
I came back from holidays last Sunday night. Not too early on Monday I went round to the lottie to see what there was to see. Happily not too many weeds. The french beans have done well. Plenty to harvest and still plenty to come. To my surprise there were some caulis that were just about to go over so I picked them. The calabrese was just right so I picked that too. The seedlings that I planted out just before my holidays have grown on well so we will have green stuff over the winter. As expected the little courgettes from before the holiday are now the size of marrows. The sunflowers are looking good although they look out from the lottie rather than inward. I was chuffed to find the turnips seeds had germinated. I hope they will grow on quickly in this warm weather we are having.
Apparently it rained whilst we were away so the weeds have been encouraged. I have a green fuzz across the lottie so I must get the hoe out. The star performers are the grapes. The grapes have bunches with grapes the size of marbles. They were pea sized before I went away. The vines have not grown uniformally but I think that is due to competition from the trees in the fence line.
I looked in the muck bin because from the outside it looked like the level had dropped. I lifted the lid and sitting there was a young grass snake. So I can add "snake" to the list of produce from the lottie.
There are a few tears in the netting so a repair job is needed. The next job is to dig up the main crop spuds. The rain has wet the soil so it should be fairly loose for digging. It was like concrete before the holidays.
I had a little fishing outing on Friday down the canal. I bagged a few fish but Steve was hauling in loads. I think he was netting them whilst we weren't looking. It is too dark to fish by 8.30 so we packed up and repaired to the Railway. It was a very pleasant end to the day. A couple of pints sat in the cool of the evening, chatting with mates and listening to the hiddly diddly music played by folk musicians in the snug. It is Moira Furness Folk Festival this weekend hence the band.
Apparently it rained whilst we were away so the weeds have been encouraged. I have a green fuzz across the lottie so I must get the hoe out. The star performers are the grapes. The grapes have bunches with grapes the size of marbles. They were pea sized before I went away. The vines have not grown uniformally but I think that is due to competition from the trees in the fence line.
I looked in the muck bin because from the outside it looked like the level had dropped. I lifted the lid and sitting there was a young grass snake. So I can add "snake" to the list of produce from the lottie.
There are a few tears in the netting so a repair job is needed. The next job is to dig up the main crop spuds. The rain has wet the soil so it should be fairly loose for digging. It was like concrete before the holidays.
I had a little fishing outing on Friday down the canal. I bagged a few fish but Steve was hauling in loads. I think he was netting them whilst we weren't looking. It is too dark to fish by 8.30 so we packed up and repaired to the Railway. It was a very pleasant end to the day. A couple of pints sat in the cool of the evening, chatting with mates and listening to the hiddly diddly music played by folk musicians in the snug. It is Moira Furness Folk Festival this weekend hence the band.
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