A Wee Toon by the River

Wareham is indeed a 'wee toon,' with a long history.  Two main roads divide the town into four quarters and a few very tight roads run off from these.  This river crossing point lies at the far end of the great sweeping inland bay of Poole Harbour, between the rivers Frome & Piddle. A local brewery produces a variety of beers under the name 'Piddle' you may wish to know.
People have dwelt in this area for almost ten thousand years, Stone Age Man's flints soon became bronze then iron tools and when the Romans came they found this an ideal spot to land their ships and create a small settlement as they determined to occupy this land.  Later the Saxons built a turf wall, Alfred the Great in the 9th century may have been responsible as the Danes were then threatening everyone.  The fighting continued, as it does in England, King Canute trashed the town, some time later during the civil war (the 12th century one) more royals caused conflict here.  The Normans of course arrived as a kind of peace keeping force, they forced a peace and kept everything they saw!  The river however silted up and what had become a useful port saw its trade depart to the more approachable town of Poole itself, trade however continued for locals until the railway arrived in Victorian days.  
The English civil war saw Parliament and Royalist forces bashing one another in the town, Cromwell knocking the remaining walls and anything else he didn''t like down, during the Monmouth rebellion the town took the wrong side as did much of Dorset and the famous Judge Jeffrey's, the 'Hanging Judge,' held his 'Bloody Assizes' here and watched folks being hanged, drawn and quartered on the remains of the walls.  Cheerful lad he was.  Much of the town was rebuilt with Purbeck limestone from up the road after a disastrous fire in the 1700's and some nice houses remain.  During the Great War the town became a garrison town hosting 7000 soldiers nearby and Bovington Camp was established up the road in the 1920's.
You can tell I visited the small museum!

As we wandered around this locked church, 'St Martin's on the Wall,'we found it sadly locked, the key was available from a nearby shop but 'Harry,' as I shall call him, claimed the man with the key would not be there. 'Harry' came up to us as we looked at the building and gave us his version of the churches history, this had interesting points, which he obviously did not like contradicted, and we let him talk.  People like this often come into the museum and we must listen to their stories as such aged citizens do have memories and info regarding the local area well worth hearing.  However checking his facts is always a good idea. St Martin on the Wall, it does indeed stand upon the wall, is an original Saxon church made in stone and well worth a look inside, which we did not manage!  
However it is a wonderful church as these pictures of the Church reveal, I suggest you browse these.

As the old folks slept in the car I visited the very small but well laid out museum, free entry but pay 50p if you wish to take a photo - I declined - and wandered to the quay.  On the way I passed the 'Black Bear Hotel' with the Black Bear standing on the veranda awaiting guests.  Figures such as these, as you know, were used in times past to identify buildings for those, the majority, who could not read.  It is possible the bear was at one time a real bear as bear baiting was a popular pastime in days of yore, although not with the bears I am told.

 

      

While she wandered about Sainsburys we helped by wandering around 'Lady St Mary Church.'  They are proud of the 'Lady' bit in the name.  It appears the Celts built a church here way back when and the Saxons enlarged or replaced this, the Benedictines in the 12th century built a Priory next door to the church and once more enlarged the building emphasising their importance and wealth. Since then it has been much amended over the years (Not least by Cromwell who smashed up a lot of it).  The small 'St Edwards Chapel' pictured is probably part of the original building.  St Edward became a teenage King in the year 975 which did not please some nobles and his half brother Ethelred.  Edward was murdered at Corfe and his body lay in the church for two years when he was taken to Shaftesbury.  Tales of miracles made him a martyr (this bringing pilgrims and their cash) and somehow his bones now lie in a Russian Orthodox Church in Brookwood Cemetery near Woking.  His usefulness as martyr ended with the Reformation.

 

 

Graffiti in the 7th or 8th century appears to have been done by folks armed with chisels.  On the left 'Catgug son of Gideon' is written (as you know 'Catgug' is 'Cadogan' in modern Welsh). 'Congorie' probably a latinised version of 'Gongor' appears a century or so later.  Proving the 'Britons' of the day continued to live here for some time after the Saxon invasion but most were forced into Wales where many still reside.  This is a lovely impressive church but as 'Harry' appeared to continue lecturing we passed him on to a student from the local university studying the Reformation and ran for the door.

The student may still be there listening...

Hunger forced us from the town and we found a place to eat our sandwiches while deer posed for photographers who passed by heading for a tramp over the heath.  What the tramp thought about this is not known.  We ought to have gone their also but age time was catching up with us and we headed for home.  Such a small town is Wareham but with a long, quite varied and violent history.  English towns often are!  This one built on a landing area brought many invaders and defenders to the area.  It was a gateway to the south west and Corfe Castle was built up the road in an effort to block the path of strangers passing along.  A castle was built here but we were unable to visit the few remains, only a mound is now seen apparently and that in private land.

Some locals.

The Sea! The Sea! It's Wet...

Having arrived for a rest from my labours I was taken on a walk through a park, up the high Street crowded with heavy traffic and thousand's of people and then forced along the beach.  We started high up along the chine where seaside flats with large windows and enclosed balconies start at around £400,00 and with houses on the shore with views over Poole Harbour fetching between £3 and 10 million.  I will not be buying one.   

 
I was not only frogmarched along the shore but then forced to climb back up the chine the hard way - going upwards!  We took a shortcut (he said) to make it easier but I lost two stone in weight by the time we reached the top.  

The sand along here is well maintained. Earlier this year in was renewed as storms had taken much away and we watched a tractor pulling deep sand back from the stairs down to the beach, the tide has raised this several feet and his job was to pull it all back.  He soon gave up we noticed.  During the summer there are many guards on duty, strict control over the promenade, two cyclists who went through at the wrong times were fine £50 plus much more in costs for cycling at the wrong times, and huts are placed at various intervals for the many problems families bring with them, or children as they are known.  

We began our Matterhorn like ascent around here at the back of a somewhat grubby hotel.  Had we been able to continue we would have reached Sandbanks where the multi million pound houses are found but instead climbed to the mere million pound ones.  Flats here have wonderful views and are the last resting places of the wealthier type who retire here to waste the cash their children hoped they would inherit.  We were personally ignored by several of those. 

Poole Harbour, a lovely spot with water only a few feet deep for a long way out.  Usually you see people standing next to a boat far out but few were about this day.  In the middle of course the water is very deep and the Bologne Ferry passes by at regular intervals along side other large ships winding their way in.  The views here are magnificent, the weather always changeable but always offering a variety of sky to look at and wonder.  A very popular place to parade and only £2.5 million for a house, reasonable I say.  

This was to be the picture of us receiving oxygen from a passing paramedic crew but I considered it too unsavoury for tender hearts...

Reading With Eyes Closed.

Tsk! What a to do!  I wrote, in English, that I was away for a few days and I return to find that people do not read the words i struggle so hard "cough" to place before them.  In 'Miscellany' I said I would be away and you ignored it.  Pah!  Anyway I was of to sunnier climes, to good food, warm house, clean sheets, and fine company, alas also lots of appallingly bad television.  That's another story.  
You will be delighted to await the several hundred pictures, some properly in focus, that will follow in the following days.  Holiday pictures abound and some people find them boring.  I had to sit through forty minutes of video taken at the Victoria Falls in Zambia without ever grumbling once, although the crocodile slipping silently into the water made a comment rise in my throat I can tell you!  How many locals he had eaten was anybody guess.  

The sound of the sea and the aroma of the briny filled my head on at least one occasion and a trip to a far of land, nine miles, took us out of ourselves for a day.  I was force marched, in my condition, on several occasions aided only by my companions damaged hips and similar restrictions as myself.  They even forced me to work, getting my hands dirty for the first time in years, and thought this amusing.  It was only the thought of the food when we returned that kept me breathing otherwise I may well have collapsed and awaited the ambulance.
Right I am exhausted from travelling on Britain's luxurious railways, which I must say was actually enjoyable today, I did pray hard about both journeys, and then running up the road to the shops to put something in the fridge before I collapsed in bed for a while.  Worse still I had to watch Ross County defeating Aberdeen 2-0 tonight thus being unable to write anything on here.  The lack of substance inside my head also legislates against this at the moment I admit.  So I am back to bed and tomorrow I will be ready for ...going back to bed.

Lova & kisses etc...

An Intellectual Evening

A Miscellany

I have spent time attempting to clear up all the stuff abandoned in the last few weeks.  This was not helped by having to work yesterday afternoon when 60 charming kids came into the shop.  All well behaved and keen but having to deal with so many takes two of us.  This only lasted an hour or so but left us worn out and mentally drained, and that is dangerous when there is little to start with.
Still the kids spent nearly £3 each and that helps the museum remain open.  This is good as the Magna Carta exhibit brings in so many but we really require things local folks can identify with.  I spent some time today typing up paperwork left by a get together of folks who once worked in one of our past industries.  Some began work  in 1934 at ten shillings and sixpence a week, and they only worked every second week!  In those days women who married left work, or were forced to leave work, and single girls took their place.  It made for a turnover of staff but appears a bit daft to me.  Understandable if they have kids and should look after them but as a matter of rule it is a bit daft.

Would you believe I stopped there last night and then watched Scotland's latest debacle against Poland and forgot all about this.  Mind it was getting late and there was less to write about than I had already written which says something.

I am desperate to get out and practice some photography as I realise I need practice!   Looking at others pictures makes mine look inadequate therefore I need to get out and about but this has not been possible lately.  However I am away for a few days next week and have purchased a cheap android to see if I can put stuff up.  So far it works in many things but not Blogger, typical!  We shall see later if it works.  I may be amongst the wealthy, where the lifeboat poses the houses now cost several million a go, but I doubt I will be invited in for tea.  I did get an invite to a wedding, black tie and rich folks abounding, but have turned it down as I would look like Jeremy Corbyn amongst them and I would not upset the bride.  The twenty mile walk home late at night puts me off also.

One thing I hate is people posting pictures of their lunch!  At breakfast, lunch, in a coffee shop or watching the innumerable bloody awful rigged baking shows these folks have to post pictures of what is in front of them.  I thought about this as I looked into the stew that gurgles away on the stove.  It's food, nothing else, it either feeds you or doesn't, why post pictures every five minutes of what you eat?  There are those who every night reveal their tea to us, I refuse to look or indeed answer, whether on facebook or Twitter as I may say something offensive.  
The things people post on those 'social sites' sometimes appear strange to me.  One lass often posts one or two words as if she is answering a question.  Her 2000 may be as confused as I when she posts 'Tuesday!'  Especially when it is Sunday.   If not pictures of lunch one posts those absurd posters telling people to 'Be kind to one another,' or 'Be happy and accept others, they are just like you' yet when someone lets their dogs leavings remain on the street or doesn't say 'Thank you' she screams blue murder.  Maybe she doesn't read her posts.  Christians are just as bad, ten posting saying different things all of which go over the head or clash.  
I should say at this point that everything I post is suitable for use by each and everyone, all is relevant and never do |I repeat myself, never do I repeat myself.  Some nasty grouch may of course disagree but it is best to ignore such as they.

As I chopped up the veg for the stew, wiping away the blood that follows from actually using a sharp knife, I played a 'YouTube' Beatles miscellany.  This struck me as quieter than the 'Who' track, 'Won't get fooled again,' that I played earlier.  Both revealed a problem with YouTube and Win 10, the sound here is not as good as it was on Win 7.  Quite why this ought to be I know not but clearly it 'rasps' periodically through the song with can disturb the teenage angst that fills Beatles earlier work.  
At Tynecastle Park one day long ago as we waited the beginning of the reserve match against somebody or other the Tannoy played the Beatles 'Eight Days a Week.'  This upset Mattie Chambers the head groundsman.  He muttered about the music and offered his opinion in a full and frank manner and raced inside to fix it.  Montgomery, the assistant groundsman and others objected as this they thought was the music folks wished to hear.  A scratching sound was soon replaced with a ballad type song and a happier head groundsman.  How I identify with him when I hear the drivel that passes for music today.  Surely there is a deep crevasse somewhere suitable for Lady Gaga or Taylor Swift?


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Morning Work

This chap here tends to worry the kids as some think he is alive.  Sadly he is not and judging by the weight of his armour he is probably glad he is not alive.  The chain mail alone may weigh around 30 kilos.  He does give a good indication of the type of soldier you would see burning down your house and crops around the 1200's. 

Robert de Vere was the baron who lived in Hedingham castle (not this one, it's only a model) a castle which had only one failing, it wasn't very good.  The Keep seen here still stands and is well worth a visit if you like climbing stairs.  Much of the time it makes money by being used as a wedding venue or similar but occasionally it is open.  Some years ago a pretty girl and I climbed high up to the top and enjoyed the views over a wide area.  Then she pushed me off.  The layout is simle inside, one each floor you make use of the space where there are no dividing walls, just a curtain maybe to protect the Lord for you common types.  The dungeon was a bit dark however.
This present exhibition concerns the 'Magna Carta,' that's 'Big Charter' to you, and de Vere was one of the local Barons who rose up against King John.  The man at Stanstead Mountfichet, Pleshey and Dunmow also joined the rebelllion and after a short battle somewhere in Lincolnshire if memory serves me right King John came to Essex lookingfor the barons. 
They all hopped it to London as brave men do because London was on their side and impregnible. What happened to the folks left behind was not nice if they supported their man although many moved elsewhere as the ravaging army passed by.    
English inginuity has led to the small village around the castle being called 'Castle Hedingham.'

Another exhibition has been doing the rounds recently.  The women knitted several buildings in the town (when I first saw them I thought they were cakes!) and these are on display at the moment.  Here we see the museum including tree and statue of John Ray the naturalist in the front.

Some may prefer the view of the 'Swan' a public house that has stood here at least since the 1500's and probably before that also.  Taverns have a use and before the Reformation many pilgrims passed this way heading for the shrine at Bury St Edmunds.

Amongst our new stock I discovered this, it looks more appealing than 'Lemon Cheese' whatever that is!

The Gardens

The sun has gone, replaced with the beginning of another leftover hurricane sent from our friends in the west.  Quite why they insist on sending their used hurricanes to us I know not but there really is no need for them to do this, we have plenty wind and rain already.  However this means a wander through the gardens without screaming brats or the mothers with their noses stuck up in the air and gives freedom to actually enjoy the plant life.  The only life came from a white cat desperate for attention, I feared he was lost but he soon disappeared clearly knowing his way about.  As I wandered further a second likewise desperate cat appeared and I realised they were missing the woman who played with and fed them.  I was a sore disappointment for them.

Near the round pond a tree has been cut down after more than a hundred years service and some wag has turned the remnants into this seat.  Kiddies will love it but I wonder if it is wise.  Personally I prefer if it had just been left as a stump as has happened elsewhere but I suppose this keeps some happy. 

The gardens were given to the town in the 1880's by the Courtauld family.  These were their gardens over the street from their big house which still stands now turned into flats.  The family were Unitarians and during the 19th century they followed the common idea of a 'social gospel' in which rich folks paid for schools, hospitals etc for the local townsfolk.  Very admirable David Cameron would say keeping both hands in the pockets of his thousand pound Saville Row suit.  It was indeed a well planted garden and these trees rise majestically over it.  A wide variety are found here and various firs make excellent homes for a variety of birds, none of whom came anywhere near the feline visitors.

I spent much of the day listening to the excellent old programmes available, if you search hard enough for them, on the BBC iPlayer.  These included one programme about Austin Texas and the weirdos who inhabit that strange place.  Texans are of course like all Americans - weird - and fail to spell their words correctly also!  Deep in the bowels of Radio 4 I found 'The Roman Way' the first of several on their influence in history.  I would have listened to the news but this was full of George Osborne telling us lies re the marvellous things he is doing as he prepares to take over from Cameron as Prime Minister.  I switched off and burnt my dinner instead.  I must get out of the habit of turning the knob on the cooker too far, it keeps switching on the grill when I mean oven.  So much gets burnt this way.  At least while listening to the wireless from the distant past I sorted out my mail file on the 'in tray.'  I had about six months old mail lying there, much now in the bin.

This comes to mind when George Osborne speaks...

"Snigger" Sunday

I failed to cross the threshold till dusk was falling tonight.  Not for the first time my Sunday has not been what I wished it to be!  The sun shone brightly outside but foolishly I watched mediocre football instead of striding around in possibly the last sun of the year.  Ah well walking in the cool of the day when few people pass by is a good thing.  The gray like sky was blue when I shut the door but darkening by the minute as I caught the trailers of people rushing for late holidays in the sun or heading back home for work in Edinburgh or Belfast tomorrow.  Flying in the dark is not as much fun as in the day, I like to watch the earth pass me by way down below.

I awoke to a man chattering on about writing letters.  The thrust of his chatter concerned people no longer scrawling words onto paper and sending the epistle in an envelope to a recipient and how awful this is.  Today we send e-mails or even texts, those can can work text or understand text speak that is, and for many this is now a crime.  No more heartless informal e-mails they cry, get a pen and write it all down.
I disagree.
Indeed receiving a letter though the post is a great joy, I received one myself only the other day and after carefully steaming open the letter, reading how much they wished me to pay, I resealed it and wrote "Not Known" on the front and sent it back.  Receiving a letter is always a good thing if from a friend or if it contains something of value.  However since the telephone became popular in the late 60's and commonplace by the 70's and with the mobile phone that doubles as a computer writing letters is a needless action much of the time.  People can speak via the phone or text/send e-mail or just ignore you as they do me.  The requirement to sit down and cogitate on a letter no longer exists.
When a postman I reckoned one day I had three 'letters' to deliver, all the rest were routine stuff, bills, banks, birthday cards etc, as these need papers copies or contain gifts, letters as such are overtaken by e-mail.  
I like letters but I prefer e-mail as it is quicker, cheaper and gets a quick answer, usually!  However if any young woman wishes to write to me in a perfumed £20 note please note I am willing to rush downstairs and collect it when the postie gets here!

You will have noticed how the world is laughing at England just now.  The imperialists considered this was their world cup and took it for granted they would win it.  The bombast over playing Wales fell flat when the Welsh stuffed them good.  Murmurings were heard everywhere as this was not supposed to happen.  It wasn't in the script prepared by the media and the people.  The build up to the game with Australia is best summed up by 'The Sun.'

Naturally the Aussies stuffed them and stuffed them right good at that!  How the tears flowed!  Now when your side loses a big game it does hurt however when you for reasons unknown believe you will win and believe you are better than all the others in spite of the facts to watch your suffering becomes a delight to those trampled by your imperialism in days gone by, such as yesterday!  How the English cannot believe they have lost, how they weep and wail, how the search for scapegoats and demand hanging is brought back.  The fact is it is only rugby and not that important, but it is good to see them suffer, not that I enjoy this in any way whatsoever.

 
"snigger"

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Thoughts...

This old boy was sitting on this sign early this morning as I entered Sainsburys.  He was cawing in a somewhat tired manner and while a bit wary made no attempt to fly away as long as I kept my distance.  He looked world weary and possibly did not wish to move unless forced to, I know how he feels!  Later in the day he and his mates were soaring high above in the sunshine making the most of the sun before it disappears for the winter.

 

Independent 

The Middle East is indeed the place to look for confusion.  The Sunni Saudi's, along with the Sunni Qatari's, have spent much encouraging Syrians to rise up and fight Assad. How much US & western support that was given for this is hard to define.  Iran & Russia have supported Assad, Shia Iran knows the Saudi's are in reality attacking them, and by encouraging the rise of various groups, now interspersed with a variety of Islamic groups, we see ISIS coming into prominence in northern Sunni Iraq.  Southern Shia Iraq merely imports Iranians to help defend their bit.

Because they are a danger to us here we bomb ISIS, we give no support to Kurds fighting them as this upsets Turkey, our friend, who bomb Kurds because they are not their friends.  Bombs have been falling all over the place occasionally on the right people and the total effect is near enough nil!

Now Russia has added their men to the fight informing the world they will bomb ISIS and instead bombing all the opponents of that nice Mr Assad.  

One mistake with all these planes bombing this group and that is the chances of a US or Russian aircraft being downed by the other.  That will be nice.  Who to blame, what will be the result?  We sit and wait.

Possibly Putin just wishes to be accepted in the Big World, possibly he is just a thug pushing his luck, possibly WW3 will arrive any time now.  Naturally the media have taken the sides the government has told them to take, naturally much that is written is speculation.  Naturally the people suffer, die and disappear into oblivion and nothing changes.  David Cameron has spoken, no one listens.

Washington Times

While the Middle East fills the pages of the press wars elsewhere do not.  This old story of the Central African Republic I note has not changed since it was written in January.  The violence has been interrupted by the UN and French troops arriving but it continues yet.  More refugees, more flooding into Europe - if they can get there - more violence, death and homelessness.  The European press does little.  Many places suffer in this world only some are worth mentioning it appears.

Dawn of a New Diet

The sun was attempting to rise as I woke this morning.  I struggled into the light, through aside the hot water bottle, the radio, the empty drinks bottles, the books, the crumbs from supper and the teddy bear and climbed out of bed.  Dressing quickly (I must close those curtains one night) I ventured out into the misty dawn.  A large red disk hung just above the treeline, a 'Blood Sun' to go with the  recent 'Blood Moon.'  The air at seven was quiet and still.  An occasional vehicle passed, one or two cyclists struggling towards work greeted me, a lass passed with her nose in the chilly air.  A squirrel chased something that was not there  while the Rooks strutted importantly about the park stopping now and then to listen and look around them.  
The early morn is such a lovely time of day, unless you are hurrying towards bus, train or work of course.  Only those individuals and a dog walker or two will be spotted, dog nose to the ground, owner wrapped up ready to climb the Eiger!  The freshly cut grass gave of its fragrance, the air itself selling sweet.  High above the blue could be glimpsed trying to break through the mist and as yet no aircraft dared to break the near silence.

 

It was somewhat unfortunate therefore to be reminded of the kiddies who had been screaming late last night when ensconced here in the dark.  I didn't hear them that well last night as I was concentrating on the football but clearly one of them is old enough to obtain several bottles of cheap American beer.  I wondered what their folks would say when they got home.  Indeed did they have a home?  Did anyone at home care?  Maybe they are old enough, so why not drink in a pub I ask myself?  I was 17 years of age before I got my hands on a bottle of beer, one small bottle of  'Sweetheart Stout' then considered a ladies drink but we cared not.  Later I shared a similar small bottle of 'McEwan's Export' with several others, signifying not that we had grown up but that one of the older blokes must have turned his back at the wrong time!  Later, still 17 I took to drinking in the pub outside the brewery where I worked, 'Lager & Lime' was the chosen drink at that time, and I celebrated my 18th birthday there, but got no free drink.  I can see why folks take to this stuff but they appear to get a great deal more than we ever did far too early in my view.  Oh I'm old!

Alas my fuzzy brain failed to experiment enough to get a good capture of the red sun, I ought to have fiddled with the settings, but it does give the impression of the mist that spread itself all over East Anglia hindering the light warming the land.  A dreamy scene in which dark silhouetted figures pass in the far distance dogs trailing behind, occasionally far ahead.  The women gather in groups to gossip and protect themselves from the nasty men who attack them constantly, or so the papers tell us, and the dogs love the get together with others, tails wagging, cheerful yapping and kiss and chase action all over the park.  

Fiddling the bits did give an interesting picture of a historic street.  At least around a thousand years go the Bishop of London took control of half of the town land.  This are was close to where he built his little palace and chapel therefore a road was created to run to it, possible building on an earlier pathway.  Essex was once all forest and it may well have had a path running though here.  The road we see now is the hardened version that came relatively recently but well in time for the nineteenth century revolution in factory life that hit the town.  To the left new houses exist where once Crittall's, famous for their iron window frames, had their large factory, or at least one of their factories.  Many men walked this way to work in the morning, good conditions, good pay, good labour relations and most remained there for life.  During the Great War Crittall's employed two thousand or so women, all paid the same as the men, and behind the houses to the right stood Lake & Elliott's foundry, that too employing thousands and with a gas works so powerful it fired the factory and all of the town as well!  Now all is housing.  Crittall's exists still but shorn of its glory, Lake's 'Jacks' for vehicles were once word famous now dissipated by the fifties influx of foreign competition.  

I then headed home for a breakfast of leftover 'Singapore Noodles' with egg running through it.  Later, some time later, when the sun had turned yellow and rose high in the sky I wandered out once more and accidentally fell into the strange shop in the High Street that sells grossly overpriced health.  I noticed that two employees were very thin and one far from that position but I made nothing of this.  I wandered about chasing away attempts at 'help' and browsed the potions.  At last I found Carol's recommended 'Chia seeds,' and also a mixture of 'Flaxseed & Goji berries,' the Goji I believe being the stuff recommended by 'The Venomous Bead' a while back.  
Being lunchtime I lunched on healthy microwaved porridge with a rather large portion of ''Flaxseed & Goji' upon it, followed by tea with a dose of 'Chia Seeds' thrown in.  This I said to myself with make me healthy, give me vim and vigour, encourage the mind to work, strengthen the muscles and produce energy, something I desperately require at the moment.  I finished my tea and soon fell asleep. 

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A Literate Post.

Pied Beauty
By Gerard Manley Hopkins

 
Glory be to God for dappled things –
   For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
      For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
   Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough;
      And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
   Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
      With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
                                Praise him. 
Poetry Foundation

I thought of this as I crossed into the park this afternoon.  The light was dappling everything and a very summery outlook lay all around, even though this is Autumn.  You can tell it's Autumn by the leaves lying around, and the rain to come next week will no doubt bring them all down.  The dappled leaves and trees were attractive and I wished to make the most of them before they disappear for the winter.