Observations from a Hill

Our last day in Shropshire today; John left for home in Aberystwyth this morning and we drove over to Ludlow to have a mooch around. After coffee and croissants we perused the market's offerings and I bought the above-pictured volume from the Oxfam shop. A splendid volume of prosaic US postcards collated into a collection by the late English photographer, Martin Parr [1952-2025], whose whimsical takes on ordinary life always tickled and amused whilst being quite barbed, in a very genteel, English way.  The beauty of this splendid little tome is that it offers no qualifying or explanatory textual context, reminding me of the splendid BBC2 TV programme from around 1968 - which I'm sure I've alluded to before - which without fanfare or announcement would simply start; no title sequence, no graphics, no context. It would then present an apparently random and quite surreal series of art and socially referenced mini pieces [visual articles?], with the only faces to camera being ...

Sometimes one has to stand back and observe events from a higher viewpoint in order to gain true insight into any complex confluence of events: seeing the whole rather than the components enables deeper understanding of just what is happening at component level. Nowhere is this more true than where our natural environment is concerned, and particularly in the case of the aquatic environment, currently in sharp focus in the media here in the UK. Yes, individual pollution events can be investigated at the micro level, although enforcement appears to be practically non-existent due to under resourcing, lack of funding and poorly or cynically drafted legislative tools. But whilst each incident, however serious its characterisation, is a cause for concern, very often it passes by little-remarked and un-dealt with until it fades from public view and concern. It's only when we pull back and take a systemic overview that the overall impact of pollution can be seen for what it is: a pressin...

Pictured - a tiny visitor to the conservatory here in our temporary home in Shropshire - a Wren, somewhat bemused and disorientated, having flown into a structure that it obviously couldn't quite fathom the without from the within. We left it to its own devices with both doors open and eventually it figured out an exit strategy and joined the rest of the throng of small birds feeding around the small wooden arch nearby. Aside from the usual garden birds and the small squadron of Wood Pigeons that all feed there, we had a couple of spectacular visits by a Woodpecker which obviously resides quite close by: a flash - literally - of colour and movement that reminded me of the occasional, exotic and glorious visits made by Jays to our garden back at home in Fairview Heights... 

  Powis Castle today: a visit to the gardens, museum and café only, as the castle itself is currently closed for rewiring and general refurbishments. We first joined the National Trust on our initial visit to the place thirty years ago, and the gardens are always a joy to see, more sculpture than landscape: Land Art initiated centuries before the late twentieth century term was coined. The upkeep of the gardens alone must cost an absolute fortune, but I guess that's part of the point of being a member of the Trust in the first place. At least these days the hoi polloi get to see and appreciate the artistry of their peers from former times, and not just the landed and monied who started the project in the first place. However one views these grandiose statements of wealth and privilege in terms of historical social inequality and injustice, the wanton abandonment or active destruction of such places would deny the part that the far less privileged artisans and labourers, who actuall...

Coffee and cake this morning at Berry's Café in Church Stretton, and very nice it was too. We had a good mooch around the antiques emporium in the town, looking for one of those very large Willow pattern meat dishes with the juice/gravy/sauce well at one end, for next Christmas Day's lunch, at which we aim to either repeat the haunch of hogget extravaganza, or maybe even push the boat out for slow-cooked beef ribs. We haven't decided on the meat yet, but have our sights on the right and proper receptacle from which to serve it. Unfortunately, this time we struck out in our search. I remember one such dish in the family, growing up, but in those days the only size cuts of meat we could afford would all have fitted in the sauce well of the thing, and so it was always consigned to decorative rather than practical usage...  

Our first visit of the week to The White Horse in Clun [blog posts passim] this lunchtime. Eschewing a full Sunday roast, having already had coffee and cake at the newly-reopened Poppy House Café in Bishop's Castle - very good espresso and a slice of cherry Bakewell - we opted instead for our continuing favourites from the pub's Light Bites menu: in my case the above sausage and chips; good honest pub grub, well cooked from great produce and in a portion small enough not to render one speechless with bloat. As always, their locally-sourced sausages were great and the chips homemade, not frozen. I washed mine down with a pint of the inestimable Clun Pale, brewed on the premises: a beer without equal by my measure, and one of the cheapest pints you'll find anywhere. The pub is open at all proper pub hours, has a great landlord in Jack, and most importantly has that particular comradely atmosphere found only in a pukka British public house. And as I've mentioned once or tw...