Life Observed

This old tree intends to show that you can indeed take it with you. Pictured at Avebury, where no stone is left unturned.

If you are going to convert part of your garage to a workshop, best to do it properly.

Farming takes a break at this time of year, in the fields at least. If you have already planted it, then leave it be and wait. If you haven't planted it, then it is too late until the rain and the frosts subside.

There is hope for us all in post brexit Britain. Here we have an empire built entirely on sausages.

It is that time of year again. Time to decorate the office. You do it like this: Not like this.

I wonder what Victorian engineers would make of today's technology. No doubt they would be impressed by our achievements and by the mystic abilities of small items with bright screens and no moving parts. I wonder if they would be as impressed by the way we discard an item on a whim after a year or two.  We seem to have lost the ability to design a thing of quality with a long life in mind.

Never insult the carpenters and carvers who are working on your choir stalls. You may be immortalised in wood forever. (The others were worse than this one)

So. Would you use a Router to make this Hub ?  Sorry folks, that was a needlessly nerdy joke there.  Overheard on the BBC recently. A sociologist blew her tech credentials when discussing an early valve computer. "It's amazing to think this computer was made in the 1950s, it looks so shiny with its valves and pistons "  Ah, and it was going so well, right up to that last word.

Continuing the tour of Milestones museum, I found this tired old Commodore Pet, and a display of Kodak Instamatic cameras in the faux camera shop. Ah, yes. I did program a Commodore back in 1980. This is the early example with the silly tiny keyboard. And no, I have never owned an Instamatic. Never.

We spent some time in the rather excellent Milesones museum at Basingstoke. They have a set of streets there laid out with buildings and artefacts from different years from the early the twentieth century, together with an area devoted to the 1940s to 1980s. It is always worrying to find everyday objects you have owned and used turning up in museums. There is also a concern that if you are of a certain age and you stay too long, then you may end up as part of the show. PS. They have a pub on the premises. Yes, it really does serve beer. No - not at 1915 prices.

Aah.  Autumn leaves illuminiated by that glorious golden glow that only Sodium can bestow. Remember: How we hated those Sodium lamps when they first appeared. And now: How we yearn for their warm illumination now that the streets are converted to cold white LED lights.

It is nice to have your suspicions allayed.  Sometimes I feel like I am somewhere else, but apparently I am wrong. Phew

In this case, literally. Wenhaston Church.

Chronic inbreeding in this Dorset village has produced some really strange family names.

Here we have an unusual cosmic event.  I was lucky to catch this rare Transit of Citylink last night

Amazon Prime/Netflix/Now TV: You pay them your money and get thousands of films to watch. Oh dear me, I never realised there were so many awful films on the market.  Who is spending so much time and money and effort making such awful films?  One scrolls up and down and left and right in the hope of finding something educational, or elevating. If you discard all the films that have that brightly coloured Peppa Pig look, and then remove all those with zombies on the cover, now chuck all the films where someone is brandishing a gun at someone else... then you are merely left with a shed load of dross. Hyperbole: Once upon a time, everything was awesome . Remember that? Then the descriptor of choice became "Stunning". "Hey man, check out that stunning face flannel". Look, if it doesn't actually cause unconsciousness, then it hasn't stunned you, OK?  Now the news video click bait is "Adorable". Really? I'll be the judge

Outside the Sailor's Reading Room at Southwold. This local feature was set up to give nautical types something else to do apart from drinking beer. You can't miss it, it's next to The Nelson pub. Inside there were indeed Sailors, reading.

Spotted in Anglesey Abbey* What is it? A dog? A lion, a cat? A baboon? I suspect the sculptor had never actually seen one of whatever it's supposed to be. *Not an Abbey, not in Anglesey.

What's going on at Wenhaston church? Why do they have a set of manacles in the vestry?  Are they Strict and Particular Baptists?

I have news for you, June Lane:  You are the centre of the Universe. PS. Whatever happened to pointy finger signs?

Gravity is unreliable. This closely guarded fact is kept from the public by a cautious government for fear that it will cause panic. We naturally assume gravity will always be there and will always work, but this is not the case. In certain circumstances gravity gets distracted and forgets the rules. This is why, at the top of large (and therefore massive) hills you will always find the Retaining Bolt that keeps the whole thing screwed securely to Mother Earth.

No, surely not? But yet, maybe they are serious. The only way to find out is to get your cheque book out and call their bluff.

This is what happens in between your 16 bar solos*  You put your box of cats down and sup some ale. Add caption * A solo would normally be 8 bars but as we know, musicians have to be hauled off the stage with a hook on a pole when it comes to solos.

Many of you already know that bagpipes are powered by a total of four cats. Three of them set off the droning noise while the fourth one is encouraged to make the melody. Its tail is squeezed by an arrangment of holes and levers. Thanks to the marvels of modern miniaturisation, this squeeze box here has no less than thirty two baritone cats. Individual buttons poke the cats in various places. Clearly any instrument this ambitious takes some considerable pumping to keep going.

Folk Club: In Sir Patrick Spens I clean forgot The forty second verse, so I sang the twenty seventh  twice as loud and in reverse, and no-one noticed** *Usually involves "Heave Away" **Fred Wedlock, I believe

Out here in Wiltshire they must have been made of stern stuff in days gone by. On the top of each of these barren and windswept hills you find an Iron Age settlement. We walked up to the top of one in between rain squalls and it was fairly chilly, even in August.  What possessed these early moonrakers to build up there so far from civilisation? Consider: This was a long time before Marlborough even had a Waitrose. PS: How do sheep manage to do that "Baa" thing even though they never seem to stop eating?

So, this is the new economics.  Inverse sales where the price doubles suddenly.

Old seeds.  Somewhere round here there should be a 1955 copy of Whitaker's Almanack.

Here's a nice spiky flower thing I found in our garden.  Why are there so many sorts of flowers? What's the point? PS. This one isn't edible.

The two ambassadors from planet Zorg were annoyed when they were mistaken for common hydraulic equipment and connected to a private water supply. After fifty years locked in an outhouse they had given up hope of rescue.

At this time of year, early in the mornings, the sun gets in doors it never usually darkens. Here it tickles this orchid with its early rays

This is why we invented paint. This is why we don't leave stuff outdoors.

This is my imaginary friend. He may look like a cactus but he's a real person and has a proper name and everything.  He's called Colin and next week he is going to be prime minister. In the future everyone will be prime minister for fifteen minutes.

It's another Monday, another lunch box.

What goes round, comes around. So they say. Look at this, in actual Sainsburys, actual vinyl LPs for sale. Just like the old days. Real LPs. For sale in a supermarket in the 21st century. But look at the prices. £20! Really? In that case I just checked the cupboard under the stairs and it seems I am a millionaire.

It is that time of year again. I can stand in the middle of the local road just before the sun dips below the trees and see this amazing effect. Well, someone has to do it. Don't try this at home. Or on the M4.

Is this some sort of green pasta? Maybe it's Bamboo. No. These are the green shoots of recovery, cut off in their prime.

For Sale:  Some British pound coins. Not worth much. We also have some items of infrastructure for sale: Railways, Bridges, a Banking System.  All offers entertained. Cash needed soon.

Sunset, and as the farmer drives his herd of Quorn to the barn for the evening milking, all is still apart from the sound of the illegal rave down the valley.  Britain is at peace after all the Brexit business.  Tomorrow will be a better day. Surely?

I believe in waste not want not. OK, I reluctantly admit that these jeans are probably past their best.

My friend here seems to be lost.

Running the country can be an ugly business. People literally hurl insults at each other in the name of politics and things can get out of hand. In England we have our own way of sorting things out.  Opposing factions face off dressed in the same uniform and proceed to threaten each other at some distance with handkerchiefs. We find this works fine for us.

If you would like to take a seat in the lobby, we can bring you some coffee.  The chamber maid is cleaning your room. It will be ready in just a few minutes.

Stay!  STAY! Good dog... He's well trained that one. He will stay like that for hours, months even.

A quiet day on the road to Hades. The ferryman has gone for a beer with all those coins he collected. Your last chance to turn back.

Plenty of room in this three acre garden.  Pull up a chair and wait for something to happen.

What a lovely wall.  It has a bit of everything: A blocked door, old brickwork, flints, ferns and a laughing plank.