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WELCOME to my new postcard corner - regular
one-off images that have captured my attention along my daily walks
through Llandeilo, Dinefwr and the Towy Valley (one of the
corners of Wales to visit before you die, according to a recent
book). Llandeilo, a medieval royal capital of Wales, has to be
one of the most beautifully set towns in Wales. High above the
banks of the Towy, the town is an elegant warren of Georgian,
Victorian and Edwardian streets in which you'll find all manner
of antique shops, art galleries, pubs and restaurants. Here be
postcards to make the area more than just a dot on the map - together with some background information to help
make sense of what's on view. Alongside, how my square mile would have
looked to my ancestors ... a map of the British Isles, as drawn
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26th
January 2012
On
gossamer wings...
AS MENTIONED
hereabouts just recently, I take loads and loads of pictures, especially
of the little songbirds I’ve befriended down in the valley over the past
three years. As a rule of thumb, of every 100 pictures I take, 90 are
rubbish and are deleted, 10 are sort of okay and are transferred to the
computer – and of those, one will hopefully be what I regard as good. In
the meantime, the search goes on for that magic moment.
Of every ten photographs I retain on the computer (just in case one of
them will be just perfect to illustrate something further down the
line), they include a few ‘action’ shots, where the camera has caught
the birds in the act of either approaching my outstretched hand, landing
or taking off.
Because I use a rather basic camera, which I can hold
and operate with just the one hand – it’s something between a simple
compact and a basic SLR – often the pictures are not of good quality
unless the conditions are favourable.
One benefit of this is that the camera will capture a
partly blurred photo, the aforementioned ‘action’ shot. So I had a trawl
through my pictures to come up with a couple that really delighted my
eye – more by luck than judgment though, which is just fine by me... |
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"I shall mount on wings of gossamer,
And wing my way through God's great Heaven,
And then, and only then, will I be free..."
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"When
we first touched, my heart flew high,
On gossamer wings through a cloudless sky..." |
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15th
August 2011
Black and
white and walked all over
TONIGHT, Swansea City, affectionately known as The Swans, played
their first game in the Premier League, away against mighty Manchester
City (one of their players, Argentinean Sergio Aguero, has cost the club
£38m, probably more than Swansea’s entire budget). No surprise then that
they lost 4-0 after a promising first-half display.
But I do have a smiley tale to tell.
A local character, Mike Rees, announced towards the end of last season
that if Swansea gained promotion, he would paint his house in the club’s
colours, and hopefully raise some money for charity in the process. Now
I first remember Mike as simply Mike
H2O,
because he worked for the water board.
When the board shut their local depot, Mike called it a
day and took up painting and decorating full time. He then became
Mike Wet Paint Don’t Touch. So that’s the background to Mike
painting his house in the club colours.
Actually, as he began to apply the distinctive colour
scheme, passers-by would stop and stare with a puzzled look. Mike would step back
and say: “Can you see what it is yet?”
Perhaps in future I will have to refer to him as the
Rolf Harris of the painting and decorating world. So here’s his
marvellously eye-catching work of art...
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And how about those matching accessories? Even the zebra crossing
supports The Swans. Magic. The black stripes presumably represent
the Swans’ feet paddling furiously under the water while above, the
white body, the club’s base colour, retains its elegant shape.
Until a couple of years ago I lived just up the road from this house, my
then home situated near a couple of pubs. On a Saturday or Sunday
morning I would often find my car covered in footprints.
Then, as now, I owned a 1990 Saab 900 (as I’ve
mentioned before, my Saab has no
ABS, parking sensors, traction control, satellite navigation, CD player,
xenon headlights, air-conditioning, central-locking, electric windows
and mirrors – so none of these things can go wrong).
But it does
have those big bumpers which, to someone who has had a few too many
drinks, look like the first rung on a huge ladder – so they would simply
walk up and over the car and down the other side.
I never allowed this to upset me, mostly because those
particular Saabs are built like tanks (they used to say that if you must
collide with another car make sure it isn’t a Volvo or a Saab because
you will come off worse).
My worry now is that Mike, whose house, as you will have observed, is
directly in line with that zebra crossing – will one night return home
after a famous victory and with a few too many sherbets under his belt,
will navigate the zebra crossing, approach the front door, think he’s
still on the crossing, walk up the front of the house, over the roof,
and down the other side - and into the house via the back door.
Well Mike, and to quote the memorable
Sergeant Phil Esterhaus who began every episode of Hill Street Blues
thus:
“Hey, let’s be careful out there...”
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12th
June 2011
Say
aaaah!
BIRDS are currently fledging left, right and centre. Outside the kitchen
window I watch some chaffinch and sparrows feeding their young. I
observe a junior chaffinch open wide its mouth while furiously wiggling
its wings in front of its father - the marvellous thing about these
birds is that the male and female adult are obviously different - the
female is the colour of the youngster, below. It is a delight to watch
them...
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"Please, Sir, I
want some more!"
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And of course, papa is happy to oblige. Marvellously entertaining and a
wonderful way to stand and stare.
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1st
June 2011
You've
been framed
I WAS 25 minutes into my early-morning walk, about to exit Dinefwr Park,
which I navigate every day on my way into town to pick up a morning paper,
when suddenly my attention was drawn to something rather odd near the
entrance into the estate and Newton House. It was a
large, empty picture frame, just standing there like a spare thingummy
at a wedding.
I went to investigate ... the support had been firmly
pushed into the ground, with the frame itself free to spin full circle. I
looked about me ... you don't expect to see many people about just after
5:30 in the morning - and there weren't any.
At first I thought it was there as a frame to hold a
notice i.e. forthcoming attractions at Newton House. But no, that didn't
make sense. Then I had a brainwave - or as near as is possible for yours
truly. I concluded that it had been put there either by a camera club or
a painting class - to show students of the genre how to properly frame
an image.
So why not join in all the fun - Dinefwr Castle was
over there, just about visible above the trees as you enter the park...
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Dinefwr Castle:
partly visible from the entrance to Dinefwr Park & Castle |
I was quite chuffed with my little spontaneous effort. As I've said
before, I am not a photographer, indeed I only use a smallish camera,
slightly larger than a compact, and I had to zoom quite a bit to
get the castle to look at home in the frame.
As I walked away, it suddenly struck me that perhaps it
actually was a
proper 'You've been framed' stunt, where the whole thing had been set up to
see how people would react. Who knows. At least the effort made me
smile.
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24th
April 2011
Excuse
me...
YOU DROPPED THIS ... One of the great positives of walking the Towy
Valley fields regularly is that the animals get used to my presence, and
crucially do not hurry away as I approach. On the contrary, they tend to
stand or sit there and watch me pass on by. And so it was here, a mother
and her lambs ponder my next move...
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Just a simple, but delightfully smiley image ... and below, the same two
lambs captured just a short while before...
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31st
March 2011
Lots of
Blossom Dearie
AS MARCH drew gradually to a close bathed in beautiful spring sunshine
under cloudless blue skies, the two blossom trees in the grounds where I
am fortunate enough to have walked a wee bit through time, bloomed as
they haven't for years, apparently. It was a treat for sore eyes,
especially with so many bees in attendance as well...
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The tree is a weeping cherry blossom - above, taken from beneath the
tree, at ground level - and below, a general view of this most
attractive of trees. |
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20th
March 2011
The
supermoon’s
a big balloon
OVER the weekend we’ve had a “Supermoon” (with a capital S).
This phenomenon occurs when the moon passes closest to Earth on the two
bodies’ orbit, and the moon is full. The Supermoon occurred on Saturday, March 19,
when the moon came closer to Earth than at any point in almost 20 years,
making it look much bigger (sic), although it was still 221,567 miles
away.
Ordinary supermoons occur about five times a year, but
events such as last Saturday’s are known as “maximal perigee” – when the
two heavenly bodies are particularly close – and only happen about every
two decades.
The internet is awash with Supermoon images – but a
Supermoon is a supermoon is a moon is a balloon. It is impossible to tell that
you are actually looking at a Supermoon. So how about something
different? Hm.
Outside the cottage are loads of daffodils, so...
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This was taken while still daylight, on Friday, the day before the actual
full moon – it had promised overcast conditions on the Saturday, indeed the
moon was visible, but rather hazy. If you look at eight-o’clockish, you
can see that the circle isn’t quite complete, as it would have been on
the Saturday. Still, I really liked the image.
Below, with the daffodil in
focus.
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1st
March 2011
Saint David, a beautiful tit - and some daffs
A
CURIOUS letter spotted in the Telegraph...
Too flighty for me:
SIR – Why are garden birds so frightened of human beings? I provide food
and water for them, show them nothing but kindness, and yet they fly off
as soon as they see me coming.
Robins seem to be the most fearless – why? Blackbirds
show a certain insouciance; pigeons, sparrows and tits are hopelessly
jittery. I may not be St Francis, but why can’t they trust me a bit
more?
Jeremy Nicholas, Great Bardfield, Essex
There were a couple of responses that caught my eye...
Spikey: I think if I was a bird I wouldn't go near someone called
Jeremy either.
Nice one. Think Jeremy, as in Clarkson, Paxman, Kyle, Vine, Irons,
Hunt, Beadle, Bamber... Garden birds are truly wise. I mean, would you ever have
wanted any of those Jeremies within a million miles of your fondly
imagined South Sea Island Paradise?
Vladimir Ilyich Pugachev:
Birds that fly away from humans the moment they appear have had bad
experiences with humans. Probably, there are some humans in Great
Bardfield, Essex who are supplying that bad experience ... catapults and
air guns spring to mind, as do dogs and cats being let out...
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Here's lookin' at you, Candy Man |
I feel quite guilty having a hopelessly jittery little tit help me
celebrate St David’s Day...
PS: This letter has since appeared in the Telegraph...
Gulliver’s bird table:
SIR – Jeremy Nicholas (Letters, February 26) asks why garden birds are
frightened of him. If I were approached by a being 25 times taller than
I, even if it offered me a plate of my favourite food, I, too, would
grab it and run.
P.
J. Reardon,
Tonbridge, Kent
Well, the above picture makes a
nonsense of a little bird being frightened of something 25 times taller...
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9th February 2011
~ slipstream ... see below
6th February 2011
Cleared to land
AS I have
noted elsewhere in this web site, if you want to understand people,
study nature. We all behave precisely the same. After all, we are all
animals. Even observing the routines birds follow as they takeoff and
land is precisely the same as the routines I was taught to fly a plane.
For example, below, a couple of swans descending as
they head for the oxbow lake, a staging post along my daily early
morning walk ... they always remind me of the majestic Hercules military
transport aircraft regularly doing low-flying exercises in these parts.
I always stop to watch the swans and the Hercules passing overhead...
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Final approach: throttle back ... flaps down ... prepare
to lower undercarriage... |
SLIPSTREAM: Yesterday was a picture perfect day in the Towy Valley,
so I decided to capture a few shots of the snowdrops now in full bloom,
specially as there were lots of bees buzzing about - see the Flower
Power Gallery on the home page. As I was clicking away, I could here the
unmistakable sound cruising up the valley towards me: the aircraft
equivalent of a swan in flight, as referred to above...
Yes, a Lockheed Hercules military transporter, flying
low over the countryside. Honestly, it looks so graceful in flight, and
those four turboprop engines really do purr like a pussycat. Click!
And here it is, to complement the swans, above...
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19th December 2010
The morning after the snow before
FOLLOWING the
heavy overnight snow of last Thursday/Friday, below is the first sight
that greeted me as I set off on my regular early-morning walk. I was
surprised at how much snow there was on the trees. It hadn't long
stopped snowing, the light was very poor, but these four trees were just
standing there, inviting me to point my camera...
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Beautiful.
Over on Look You I mentioned loosing half-a-stone or so back at
the beginning of this year, all through walking a lot in the snow, which
is physically demanding, and someone said:
“That’s why you never see an obese Inuit, obviously.”
Well, I call the second tree from the left, above, the
Eskimo tree ... see the entrance to the igloo...!
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8th November 2010
The morning after the storm before
EARLY THIS
morning, just before four, I answered the call of nature. My bedroom is
located at ground level in the corner of a courtyard, which means I am
totally divorced from the sound and fury of stormy weather. As soon as I
entered the bathroom I could hear the howling wind and driving rain -
just as the forecast had promised, fair play.
So I toddled back to bed,
reasonably confident that my morning walk would be delayed, although the
forecast did say the storm would clear west Wales by daybreak. I
got up at half-five - and everything was deathly quiet outside. Amazing.
I set off on my walk as usual. By the time I
arrived in the Towy Valley, it was quite surreal. After an intense storm
has passed through there is invariably a few brief hours of still,
picture-perfect conditions. And that's what it was like this morning:
blue sky, perfect stillness, a light mist floating above the ground,
autumn colours in their prime - or at least those leaves that were still
clinging on for dear life, mostly on the oaks.
And here is the view as I walked past one of the oxbow
lakes along my walk...
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A magical
sight, the perfect stillness reflected in the perfectly still surface of
the lake...
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26th October 2010
Hello handsome
YESTERDAY was
one of those days when my little camera was spoilt for choice. Picture
perfect conditions, in the true sense of the expression. Along my walk I
regularly encounter a couple of horses, a filly and a colt (or perhaps a gelding).
The colt is friendly and will come right up and allow me to stroke it - but
the filly is more nervous. She will venture within an arm's length, indeed
sometimes she will allow me to touch her nose - but then she backs away,
uncertain.
I've said it before: if you want to understand people, study
animals. I've had the same trouble with human fillies...
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On a
frosty, autumnal morning, a filly approaches at a gallop to say a nervous
hello
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26th September 2010
Cleared to land
WITH the
weather suddenly turning rather autumnal, the birds are now awaiting my
early-morning arrival with added enthusiasm. As happened last year, it's
the tits that are the most fearless in their approach. Below, a great
tit grabs a morsel, while behind a bluetit circles awaiting clearance to
land...
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Autumn arrives
and the birds start looking for a hand out
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16th September 2010
The Candy Man comes calling
NEWS from the
British Trust for Ornithology has revealed a 42% decline in the numbers
of the bluetit over the past 40 years. I blinked. Since I began
hand-feeding songbirds last year down in the valley, the gorgeous little
bluetit has been the star turn. Not only in numbers, but in its cheeky,
fearless behaviour.
Thankfully it turns out that the decline refers to a
recent Garden Bird Feeding Survey of this species in gardens - something
to do with the changing ways of garden feeders. The bigger birds, the
bullies - the politicians, bankers and CEOs of our world - are shoving
the smaller birds aside in order to satisfy their own personal greed.
However, out on the wild side, in my little world, it seems
the bluetits are holding their own - and they do seem to have recovered
since the harsh winter. I shall keep a sharp eye open for any
drop in numbers.
So here's one I photographed earlier, about a month ago,
alongside some equally handsome Himalayan Balsam...
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I include the
Himalayan Balsam for a reason ... I am in the process of preparing a
bulletin on this naughty but nice invasive plant, which hopefully
will appear shortly, probably over on
400
Smiles A Day
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28th August 2010
~ addeggdum ... see below
25th August 2010
Chick, chick, chick, chick, chicken - lay a little egg for me...
WONDERING about outside the cottage are a clutch of free-range chickens.
I talk to them - and they talk back. Well, they cluck like mad, and
really, if someone was watching, they'd start to worry. But they're
smashing little things and they make me smile a lot. So when I stumbled
upon this runner-up one-liner from last year's Edinburgh Fringe
Festival, I just had to grab my camera to capture a shot of one of the
girls. So...
I say, I say, I say ... Paddy Lennox, the floor is
yours: "I was watching the London Marathon and saw one runner dressed
as a chicken and another dressed as an egg. I thought, 'This could be
interesting'."
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Henrietta
ponders which really did come first...
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ADDEGGDUM: Last Tuesday, the 24th, there was a glorious full
moon. By this morning, the 28th, the moon was slowly waning - so with
Henrietta and her conundrum still scrambling my thoughts, I felt the
answer was staring me in the top of my head...
Clearly,
it's the egg that came first...
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22nd July 2010
Naomi Balwen, queen of the Towy Valley catwalk
I SUBMITTED the photograph featured here, of a Balwen sheep [the
name of the breed, which, incidentally, comes from the Welsh elements
bal (forehead spot) and wen (white)], to the Western Mail’s
A Postcard from Wales, for no other reason that it's a smiley
image. The Balwen is eye-catching anyway, what with its distinctive
markings: as well as the white blaze on the face it has white socks and
a white tail end. Also, I had a vague idea that it was a characteristic
Welsh breed – but no more than that until the Western Mail published
this picture...
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Unlike the other Naomi, this
babe has had a clip around the ear, just as a warning |
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A few days following publication, this letter appeared in the paper...
Celebrate Balwens: SIR – Your Postcard from Wales was
particularly apt as there are more than 100 Balwens entered at the Royal
Welsh Show this week. It will also be a celebration of the first 25
years of the Balwen Welsh Mountain Sheep Society. The Balwen, although
still on the rare breeds survival list, remains one of the iconic Welsh
mountain sheep. Thank you for printing the photograph.
MRS ELIZABETH EAGLES,
Hermon, Pembrokeshire.
Now that was
very pleasing. Watching the Royal Welsh Show broadcast live on S4C, they did a
brief feature on the Balwens, and a lady was interviewed (whose name I
didn't catch, but I know she wasn't Mrs Elizabeth Eagles, the letter
writer). What grabbed my attention was that the Balwens nearly died out,
indeed for one brief period in their history just the one ram was alive.
That is quite astonishing, so it's no surprise that it set the newly furbished Googlie-Wooglie section of my brain clicking.
Wel-i-jiw-jiw, every day a day at school, and all that: here's a summary of
the info gleaned off various Balwen sites. It is no wonder
that I was particularly attracted to these sheep, if you get my drift,
because they are associated with my very own square mile, more or less.
Balwen originate from one small area of Wales, the
extremely remote area of the Upper Tywi/Towy Valley, an area of some 50
square miles along the border of Carmarthenshire and Breconshire – an
area that was particularly badly hit by the severe British winter of
1946-1947. The breed was nearly wiped out – only the one ram survived
the extreme cold and wild blizzards. All modern Balwen sheep are
therefore presumably descended from this one ram, although it is
possible that some of the ewes may have been in lamb to rams that did
not survive the winter. Crossbreeding with other types of Welsh
mountain sheep may also have occurred, and this would have increased the
genetic diversity of the breed and thus help avoid the pitfalls of
interbreeding.
Throughout the 1950s and 1960s a steady increase in
their numbers took place, and in the 1970s people outside the valley
began to take an interest in the breed. The Balwen Welsh Mountain Breed
Society was formed in 1985, and numbers are gradually increasing
further. These handsome sheep have now spread far and wide.
It’s astonishing what you find out simply by taking a
picture of something and putting it out in the public domain. I shall look upon the Balwen with added affection
in future.
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3rd July 2010
A new coalition pops up |
OVER ON
Look You
I include in my 30th of June scrapbook bulletin a picture of David
Cameron and Nick Clegg holding their first joint coalition press
conference in the garden of 10 Downing Street. I don't know why, but the
image coming up of two lambs peeping guiltily at me, as if they've been
caught doing something they shouldn't, reminds me of Cameron and Clegg
doing their thing...
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New farm politics: Nick and
Dave peering out of their Downing Street bunker |
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31st May 2010
Turning over a new leaf |
IN THE Spring
a young bird's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love...
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A
hawthorn tree comes into leaf ~ the stunning blossom can't be far behind |
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5th May 2010
The con in the never-ending tale/tail of the con trails
A
POSTCARD should not just show the pretty-pretty or agreeable things on
view. It should occasionally highlight the darker side of life as well. Coming
up is one of those postcards which, superficially, is most agreeable on the eye
- but behind the image is something so foreboding that we should all be
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Over on Look
You I tell the story of the flight of the jumbo jets following the all
clear after their initial grounding due to the volcanic ash cloud. The
postcard here is quite an eye-catching image, especially with one of the
little songbirds I've befriended zooming across the bottom. But, as the
main picture over on Look You shows, all those contrails up there -
must be around a dozen or so - are all drifting north, soon to be replaced by a dozen
more - and a dozen more - and a dozen more ... you get the picture. To
the north they all merge into a solid cloud base, blocking out the sun.
It is quite alarming what we are doing to our precious environment.
May the Lord have mercy on our souls.
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22nd April 2010
William and Benjamin and Wee Weöd*
DAFFY DAFFODIL time at last ... better late than never, though never
late is better... |
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Bill and Ben and
Babs
(formerly
Bill and Ben the Flowerpot Men - and Little Weed, who has morphed
accordingly in line with sex discrimination legislation)
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*Weöd:
Origin of the word 'weed', which comes from Old English.
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18th April 2010
The Innocence of the Lambs
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"Oh Mum!
Why can't I go and play with the gang?" |
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6th April 2010
Family portrait |
THIS POSTCARD made Derek Brockway's picture feature on the BBC Wales
Today weather forecast the other evening...
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This is one
where the 10% Inspiration/90% Luck rule applies. I'd noticed both
mother and lamb following my progress as I passed quite close by - the
stock become familiar with my regular presence so tend not to rush away.
I also noticed the heads together, brought about by the mother lying
down and the lamb standing up. Sadly you can't instruct nature to "move
a bit to the left, turn to face the sun, look just above my head...", so
it's pot luck as you fire away, fingers crossed that there's at least
one good shot hiding away inside the camera.
What did turn out to be perfect - something I hadn't
noticed at the time - was that their eyes are level. And of course mum's
eyes - what my little camera has captured - are magically alive.
Visually spot on. Indeed, Derek Brockway e-mailed me a brief note of
appreciation, which was itself appreciated.
Mind you, I call it a Family portrait ... truth to tell
I have no idea where dad was. Oh yes, quite why mum is eating wool as a
bit of roughage, I have no idea. Perhaps it helps keep warm from the
inside.
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25th March 2010
Spring in the air |
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Tits and Tails
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or more
correctly, a great tit, a bluetit and some lamb's tails along my morning
trail |
JUST a brief update apropos my love affair with the birds. They are
suddenly more elusive; spring really is in the air - or more to the
point, sex is in the air - and as happens with all of God's creatures,
when sex suddenly appears on the menu, food gets pushed way down the
list.
A real sign of approaching
spring are the hazel catkins. As April heaves into view the catkins are fast
losing their hardness and brown colouring, and beginning to turn yellow
and soft
as they swing loose on the twigs, hence their name "lamb's tails". Their
increasingly yellow colour comes from the pollen that will form in them,
so the female flowers are also getting in the mood and coming out now to receive the pollen,
which is blown on the wind. These female flowers are like tiny crimson
stars on top of a small bud, and one needs to examine the twigs
carefully to see them, unlike the conspicuous catkins flashing their
wares.
For a peep into the musical
world of these gorgeous little birds, check out a new diptych over on
400
Smiles A Day
- 25/03/2010...
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13th March 2010
Forecast for the day... |
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HERE'S A POSTCARD I popped into my out-tray back at the beginning of
February - but typically forgot to post it. I particularly like it
because it sums up perfectly the weather for Monday the 1st of February
2010.
Every day I make a brief note of the day's weather in
my diary - it harks back to my days in general insurance: clients would
make a claim for storm or weather-related damage to their property, and
sometimes the insurance company would come back and say there was no wet
or stormy weather on that day (the first thing an insurance company does
when it receives a storm claim is check the weather for that day, a
simple trick to catch dodgy or fraudulent claims). But often totally
innocent policyholders would get caught because, if the damage was not
severe they would repair and then claim later, and of course folk would
get their dates wrong. So I kept a daily record of the weather to ensure
that the claim was dated the day of the dodgy weather. Simples!
For the day in question here, 1st of February, my diary
says this: A cloudy, fairly cold start, some light rain/sleety/snowy
showers early - then a bright-ish, cold-ish day - but noticeably milder
by day's end, and brighter still...
The picture was taken along my early-morning walk,
looking north from Dinefwr Park...
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Forecast: Sunshine and
showers, turning to snow on higher ground; milder and brighter later
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24th February 2010
It was a dark and stormy night... |
JUST A WEEK AGO,
over on the home page, I did a brief piece on Dinefwr Castle, featuring
a lady standing there admiring the striking view and taking some
pictures of the castle in moody mode. Since then I've been counting my
blessings: I see that view every day, and I sort of take it for granted.
Well, I do and I don't.
I really do treasure the genetic hand dealt me which
ensured my never being driven by position, power or possessions, all
things that would have taken me away from my square mile. So here I am,
a country boy who grew up to be content with his modest lot in life.
Anyway, I thought I'd hunt down the moodiest picture
I've captured of Dinefwr Castle, especially one taken from the same
perspective as the pictures featured on the home page. As it happens,
the one featured here was captured in February - but 2008...
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The morning
after the dark and stormy night before -
and is that the ghost of Owain Glyndŵr taking a curtain call? |
Yes, yet another picture, like so many of mine, where it's all about
being in the right place at the right time. There again, when me and my
little camera are forever walking past these glorious monuments to our
troubled history, I'm bound to strike lucky now and again.
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Saint Valentine’s Day 2010
My Funny-Peculiar Valentine
FURTHER to the Valentine Day bulletin on the home
page, here's an additional image captured that very morning, compliments
of the Towy Valley birds... |
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Don't you come the old
cowboy with me you great tit - go sweet-talk your own kind |
What I love about the above is the way the little
bluetit holds its ground against the bigger and more aggressive great
tit. Indeed, and as I mentioned in a recent bulletin over on
400
Smiles A Day,
it probably explains why the bluetits, God bless 'em, appear to breed so
successfully - at least in this corner of the world. They are born
survivors.
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12th February 2010
A safe pair of
molars |
THE TWENTY-TEN Six Nations rugby tournament is under way. Last week Wales lost
to England - boo, hiss!
Tomorrow, February 13th, Wales take on
Scotland at the Millennium Stadium - with the sliding roof left unzipped
at the behest of the Scotland coach, Andy Robinson, who thinks it will
gain his side an advantage. It doesn't look like that at arm's length as the
weather is forecast to be cold but dry and sunny. One benefit however of the
open roof is that William Webb Ellis will be able to watch
proceedings from up there on high. Who he, I hear someone ask...
William Webb Ellis (1806 –
1872) was an
English
Anglican
clergyman
who is famous for being the alleged inventor of
rugby
while a pupil at
Rugby School.
He is acknowledged thus: This
stone commemorates the exploit of William Webb Ellis
who, with a fine disregard for the rules of football as
played in his time, first took the ball in his arms and
ran with it thus originating the distinctive feature of
the rugby game.
This may, or may not, be true, but
his name is firmly established in the
folklore of the
rugby union
code of rugby, where he is immortalised by the
William Webb Ellis
Cup, presented
to the winners of the
Rugby Union World
Cup. No
recognition is given by the
rugby league
code.
However, evidence has now come to hand that it was Webb
Ellis's
dog that actually invented the game. The famous moment
is re-created here by one of my favourite things, Pussycat
the dog ... oh, and a word of appreciation as it is not
the easiest thing for a dog, however clever, to pick up
a regular size football...
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Here she is, Wilma
Webb Ellis who, with a fine disregard for the
rules of football as played in her time, first took the
ball in her mouth and ran with it thus originating the distinctive
feature of the rugby game - or "Fetch!" as it is better known.
Incidentally, this is a perfect
Smile of the Day prompt, namely the
tale of Sidestep Sid down at the Crazy Horsepower Saloon, who reported
in the bar that his wife had threatened to leave because she accused him
of being more interested in the silly game of rugby than he was in her.
To which he apologised profusely and begged her to give him one more try
- ho, ho, ho!
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4th February 2010
What goes up...
THIS WAS taken
in Dinefwr Park during the January snows, on a field where
youngsters and their toboggans are drawn like Eddie the Eagle to a ski
jump because its contours are just about perfect for a thrilling
interlude of sledging.
The image of the three unknown young girls caught
perfectly against the skyline was eye-catching enough anyway - but the
more I looked the more it sort of reminded me of that memorable 'Class'
sketch featuring John Cleese and the Two Ronnies: "I look up to him -
but down on him..." Anyway, see what you make of it...
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I'm
probably being totally unfair to the trio - but the girl at the front
with that "head-up, shoulders back lovely girl" pose looks a born leader to me; the
one in the middle is having her work cut out just to keep up, and is a personal assistant in the making; and the poor thing at the back is
the born slave, there to do all the dirty work.
Well, it made me smile. Incidentally, last year I did a
smiley little feature on the famous "Class" sketch - which
starred three
crows.
Click
class if you fancy a quick look...
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24th January 2010
The ghostly face hiding in the trees
MY FIRST
postcard
is one of my more startling images. It features Pat Bullen-Whatling’s striking willow stag
creation, a temporary feature at Newton House to highlight and promote
her eye-catching craft. But not even I expected to capture
something quite so extraordinary quietly lurking in the
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I'd taken a few shots from different angles, so when I looked
through them later that day I was about to delete this
particular one as the least effective when I noticed something rather weird
and wonderful lurking in the snowy undergrowth. Now I always presumed that the oft- repeated tales of ghoulies and
ghosties and long-leggety beasties spotted wandering about Newton House
were just that – tales from around the camp fire. But here is one of
them, all present and correct.
The following morning I returned to have another look -
but couldn't see anything. The next I returned with
a print of the photograph to position myself in the precise same
spot ... nothing!
These days I tiptoe past Newton House while
quietly whistling a pointless tune and minding my own business.
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