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I’m in London on Half Term Duty.  Zoë’s at Nursery, but William’s four, and at school these days, where an early encounter with the planets quickly turned into an all-consuming passion.

So I thought I should take him to the Planetarium in nearby Greenwich.  There’s not much he doesn’t know about the solar system (Makemake anyone?),so ‘Moons beyond counting‘ seemed a likely hit.  Twelve thirty, I said, that’s when we’ve got to be there.

At 8.30, William was all present and correct, dressed; rucksack packed with essentials such as a pencil case and an I-spy book of birds; shoes on; coat organised, demanding to leave.  I fobbed him off for a while, but by just after 9.30, we were on the top of a double-decker bus bound for Blackheath and Greenwich.

Not the normal view of Blackheath: a bit of a fairground and a rubbish lorry doing its work.

Greenwich has one of London’s lovieliest parks.  There are wide avenues, trees, green space – hills even – and if you walk to the far end, a wonderful playground.  William was persuaded that this was a good place to spend the two and a half hours before the show.  We trotted down avenues and gravelly paths.  We chatted to dog walkers – William, having given his full address to one, informed him that I was a visitor who didn’t normally live here.

We examined tree bark.

And we reached the playground, where William climbed, chased, crawled, bounced, made new friends and finally announced, round about 11.30, that he was hungry.

We climbed one hill and then another, looking across at the views of Greenwich below, and the City of London, just across the Thames.

And we picnicked pretty much on the Greenwich Meridian line.

Visitors to the Observatory and the Meridian Line enjoy the view.

Finally, it was time for the show.  We sat next to a boy called Jack who turned out to be just as much of a planet geek as William.  The performance over (it was very good thanks, and back home, William gave a far better account of it than I did), Jack and William hurled obscure facts and quiz questions at one another, and were half pleased and astonished, half vexed that each knew as much as the other.

We decided enough was enough, and took a different route back through the park to the bus stop and home.  Where we spent the rest of the day doing – what else?  – a jigsaw of the solar system.

The moon, seen not at Greenwich, but on the Rotterdam to Hull ferry, June 2019.

A walk for Jo’s Monday Walk.

A Walk to the Planetarium I'm in London on Half Term Duty.  Zoë's at Nursery, but William's four, and at school these days, where an early encounter with the planets quickly turned into an all-consuming passion.

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Look out of that window.  Who wants to go out unless they have to?  Instead, I’m inside and cosy, seeing if I can find photos that fit Jude’s 2020 Photo Challenge for February, Patterns.

I decided to go with the built environment.  I looked not for deliberately created architectural motifs, or applied ornamentation, but for reflections, distortion, or for other elements that weren’t intended as the main event.  Except in one case, where reflection and baffling the eye was definitely the main story.  Which one was that do you think?

Sightseeing in Granada by looking at, rather than through a window.

The new entrance to the V&A, London.

Glimpses of El Escorial, Seville, from the balustrades by its water features.

Garden at the Gasholder development, Kings Cross, London.

Reflections at Canary Wharf, London.

Office windows in Brussels, Belgium.

  This challenge was provided by Jude, of Travel Words.  

Patterns Through the Window, on the Wall Look out of that window.  Who wants to go out unless they have to?  Instead, I'm inside and cosy, seeing if I can find photos that fit Jude's 2020 Photo Challenge for February, …

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Yesterday, Malcolm had a Very Significant Birthday. No party, he said.  Definitely no party.  Instead, we travelled by train in style – First Class – to Edinburgh and back.

We nearly missed the train.  Thanks to Storm Ciara, an hour and a half was almost not enough to travel the 18 miles to Northallerton Station.  Our first major diversion was a mere mile from home, and things didn’t get better.

We were at the station in time. Just.  But the train was late.  Never mind. Beyond Newcastle, this is one of England’s finest train journeys.  The coast near Alnmouth, distant views of Holy Island, Berwick-on-Tweed, while enjoying a late breakfast, and unlimited coffee at our table – that stressful journey to the station had been worth it.

Gateshead from the train.

Alnmouth from the train.

Berwick on Tweed from the train.

Once in Edinburgh, this is what we were faced with.

We put our heads down and made straight for the National Museum of Scotland.  And there we stayed.  All day.  It was no hardship. We had an interesting morning in the fascinating if not photogenic gallery devoted to Scotland’s twentieth century of social change. A very light snack.  And in the afternoon, we followed no plan.  Every gallery had something of interest.  So we each followed our noses, and visited far flung Inuit territory in Canada, plunged into the oceans, watched the Millennium Clock strike three, wondered at unwearable clothing in the costume gallery … We know we’ll be back – so much to see, and it’s so beautifully displayed and interpreted.

That’s why we didn’t leave the museum.

On arrival, a taste of what’s to come.

So much to see, so little time.

The Natural History Gallery.

The Natural History Gallery.

Reflections observed from the Balcony Cafe.

So many bicycles..

The Millennium Clock – worth a post on its own.

The main hall, viewed through an elk.

A pac-a-mac? Or an inuit parka made from seal gut?

Yup’ik spirit dance mask, Alaska.

Court Mantua. British, 1750s

Back into the blizzard for the train home. Here’s something to smile at.

And here’s our journey home on the train.

Edinburgh Castle from the train in Waverley Station.

Dusk, leaving Scotland.

Gateshead at night.

    Edinburgh in the Sleet Yesterday, Malcolm had a Very Significant Birthday. No party, he said.  Definitely no party.  Instead, we travelled by train in style - First Class - to Edinburgh and back.

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Let’s begin at the beginning.  A couple of years ago, Alison and her husband were in Saltaire, looking for a late lunch.  They found it at the Saltaire Canteen, and soon realised it was no ordinary café.  Here, the ingredients used were all past their sell-by dates, and had been intercepted from landfill.  They’d been transformed into appetising meals, mainly by volunteers, and customers were encouraged to pay what they thought was fair, or what they could afford.

‘We could do that in Ripon’, thought Alison.

Actually, that’s not the beginning of the story.  We need to go back to December 2013, when The Real Junk Food Project opened its doors in Armley, Leeds,  as a café offering meals made from food destined for the tip.  People ‘paid’ for their meals with money, by offering skills or even food.

It was the brainchild of Adam Smith, who had a Road to Damascus moment on a pig farm in Australia, where the pigs were eating discarded food he’d have been happy to put on his plate.  Back in England,  The Real Junk Food Project was born, firstly as a café: then as an ever-expanding movement helping others develop their own models; as a Sharehouse sourcing and distributing waste food for those cafes; pay-as-you-feel supermarkets of discarded food; Freegan boxes of intercepted food designed for families; for distribution in a school setting (breakfast clubs, or for families in need for instance); even outside catering.  I’d like to get married all over again for the pleasure of having a Junk Food catering team deliver the party!  You can see why Alison needed to talk to Adam.

She found a co-conspirator in her friend Janet, and between them they located premises at Community House, equipment, cookware, crockery, cutlery, napkins… everything you need to feed the masses.  I’ve dismissed that task in a sentence, but I don’t underestimate the achievement.  They found volunteers too.  I wasn’t in at the beginning, but I’m part of the team now, and I wouldn’t miss my stints for anything.

A year ago, the café opened.  It’s on Thursdays, Ripon’s Market Day.  People start to drop in from 11 o’clock for a coffee, maybe a cake.  From 11.30 they’re eager for lunch.  Seating is at refectory-style tables, so whether you come with a friend, family, or on your own, you’ll be sitting with others and soon be talking to those around you.

Look!  Here are a few sample menus.

The cooks for the day will have been to Wetherby the day before to collect supplies, considered the random collection of ingredients and devised and cooked a varied and tasty menu to suit everyone: there are always vegetarian and vegan choices.  There’s nearly always a soup or two, and good old fashioned nursery puddings are hugely in demand.

Kitchen action.

Oven action.

Roasting roots.

The volunteers have been in since 10 o’clock, setting tables, chalking up the menu, getting everything ready.  At 11.30, they become waitresses and waiters: taking orders, collecting and serving the food to the diners, taking turns to wash up, and finding time to chat and be welcoming.  Newcomers become regulars: regulars become friends. We have office workers; young families; elderly people who welcome a hot meal in friendly company; visitors to the city …

A tasty bake.

A session in full swing.

It’s quiet now. At 1.30, many diners have left. Time for us to chat to the late-comers.

Modelling a pinny.

Pay-as-you-feel.

At the end, people put what they feel in a box by the door.  The point is to save food from landfill, not to make money, so those who can’t pay don’t need to feel embarrassed.  Some offer services instead – there were some electricians in one week ….  There are costs of course – notably the rent: so far donations have kept us in the clear.  Any profits are re-invested in improved services.

Then, for the volunteers, it’s time to wash up, tidy up, put things away, swab the kitchen floor, pack away the tables and chairs, vacuum … and finally go home for a rest and a nice cup of tea.

Wholemeal has become a real asset to Ripon community life. And look at the food that’s been intercepted from landfill!  Win-win.  Thank you, Alison.  Thank you, Janet, thank you Adam … and everyone else who’s made it possible.

Radio York transmitted its whole morning show from Wholemeal last Thursday.  Anyone who’s super-interested can listen here, on BBC Sounds.

Pay-As-You-Feel, Eat a Good Meal Let's begin at the beginning.  A couple of years ago, Alison and her husband were in Saltaire, looking for a late lunch. 

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A Line of Trees

A Line of Trees

I don’t know about you, but I need a break from the world and its vicissitudes.  And I’ve got just the thing.  One of our favourite walks, near Masham, near home.  It offers wetlands with waterbirds, calming pastures of sheep, woodland, a stretch along the riverside – all available in a four mile stroll.

This month, Jude of Travel Words invites us to consider Pattern.  This walk has plenty,…

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We turned up early – though not half as early as some – to help get things ready and to join a short choir rehearsal.

This was January 31st, Britain’s last day in the EU, and the occasion for North Yorkshire for Europe’s ‘Thank EU for being here’ party.

Richard Sadler, our energetic ideas-and-Chair-man, organises the banner.

There were tables and chairs in place, enough for about 120 people.  There was Richard up a stepladder wresting to get the home made (thank you Phil) banner up.  And there were the cameras and reporters.  BBC Look North were already busy interviewing and ITV News at Ten was due too.  But look!  Isn’t that Nick Robinson from the Today programme?  Yes.  He stayed and listened to the choir rehearse, and did a few short interviews, which were transmitted on Saturday’s programme at about 8.15.

Nick Robinson talks to Richard Sadler.

Then it was 7.30.  People started arriving – slowly at first, then in a busy queue.  A Polish nurse who’d been part of the team when Malcolm was in hospital came, with two Spanish friends.  As we sat down, we found ourselves with, apart from them, Italian and Ukranian guests.  I chatted to a French woman.  We heard German, Dutch.  We puzzled over quiz sheets.  Where ever in Europe had all these pictures been taken?  There was music from our very own The Raisers.

Getting to know each other.

Supper was only partly European.  There were pizzas.  But besides them were vats of Indian vegetarian curries, breads and sweetmeats.  Feeding us all took quite a while, but gave the chance for lots of talking and getting to know one another.

Form an orderly queue.

Speeches of course.  You’ve got to have speeches: but they were short, and though full of regret, positive and forward-looking.

And the choir sang.  No longer the Remain Voice Choir, we’ve become the Reunion Chorus. Some of our old favourites have been brought up to date (‘Brexit is a form of Madness’ – you may know it as ‘Bread of Heaven’); and others are new (‘Europeans all are we..’ – ‘Bobby Shaftoe’).

Here are some of the band. As I was singing, I haven’t got any of the choir. I think Nick Robinson has.

The hands of the clock kept turning.  It was getting late. We stopped out chatter.  At exactly 11.00 o’clock, we stood up for a minute’s silence: reflective, saddened, angry.  And then the choir and everyone in the room joined in singing Ode to Joy.  After which, many of us turned to our neighbour for a comforting hug as we wept for what we had lost.

The evening was over.  But not our movement.  We’ve made new friendships in Yorkshire and beyond.  One day, we’re sure, Britain will be part of the EU once more.

ITV News at Ten at work.

Multi-tasking Arnold. Instrumental in organising the evening. Part of The Raisers. And crucially, our Choirmaster. Also known as the Messiah.

Cameraman in action

Richard Wilson, Chair of Leeds for Europe, and Vice Chair of the European Movement.

The evening’s over. Charlie and team tidy up.

A crowded hall.

Richard Wilson, Chair of Leeds for Europe, and Vice Chair of the European Movement.

Europeans in conversation.

The Raisers raise the roof.

  Thank EU for Being Here: Part 2 We turned up early - though not half as early as some - to help get things ready and to join a short choir rehearsal.

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Saying 'Thank EU For Being Here'

Saying ‘Thank EU For Being Here’

North Yorkshire for Europe made the best of a very bad job yesterday: a party for locally-resident EU citizens, to say ‘thank you’ for making their home here.

It was a great night, with fun, friendship … and tears.  More tomorrow ….

An entry for Six Word Saturday.

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I thought I couldn’t let January end without a final entry for Becky’s Squares: January Light.  So here we are at the car wash.

  Frankly, though, I’m not really in the mood.  Not the day that the UK leaves the EU.  I’m looking forward to this evening though, when North Yorkshire for Europe is holding two parties, one in York, and one in Harrogate, where we’ll be.  The group’s invited EU nationals who’ve made their home in Yorkshire, so we can say ‘Thank EU 4 being here‘. We’ve already been mentioned on the Today programme, and …. well, we’ll just have to see.

Car Light Through the Soapsuds I thought I couldn't let January end without a final entry for Becky's Squares: January Light…

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An Everyday Story of Country Folk revisited

An Everyday Story of Country Folk revisited

January. It’s almost at an end and I haven’t revisited a post from France yet this month. I’ve picked this one. We’re living in a village community here in England, yet it’s hard to imagine someone from here with memories similar to those of Paul, the subject of this post. Let’s have a history lesson from .…

…. January 29th 2012

An Everyday History of Country Folk

Yesterday afternoon was…

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… because it’s Seville orange season, and time to make next Christmas’s supply of Seville Orange Gin, that perfect winter warmer after a day walking in the bright frosty air.

Stage One: gin, sugar, cardamom seeds.

Stage Two: thinly peeled orange zest.

Stage Three: shake today, and daily for quite a while. Stage Four is not illustrated, and involves drinking it.

January Squares, # January Light

Light-headed? Blame the Gin…. ... because it's Seville orange season, and time to make next Christmas's supply of Seville Orange Gin, that perfect winter warmer after a day walking in the bright frosty air. January Squares, # January Light

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RSPB Saltholme.

We had to go to Middlesbrough for an appointment the other day, so we thought we’d stay and explore.

Middlesbrough is what’s known as a ‘post-industrial town’.  Once, its steel and other heavy industry and its port brought wealth (to some), employment, and attendant grime and looming industrial architecture.  Now, it’s reliant on newer technologies, engineering and the presence of  the university developed in the 1990s from the older Polytechnic.

But its landscape is still an industrial one, as is that of the surrounding towns: Billingham, Stockton, Redcar.  Could it be true that the RSPB had developed a Nature Reserve here, on its outskirts?

It could.  RSPB Saltholme.  Though it was hard to believe, as we navigated along roads edged by towering chimneys, great metal hangars, clattering unseen machinery.

But in the end, there it was, among the industrial flatlands – wetlands actually, punctuated by shallow lakes and pools.  We’d arrived.

Light-providing pylons stride purposefully across the landscape behind the reserve.

But the birds had left.  How silly of us not to remember.  At our local nature reserve, Nosterfield, the birds regularly knock off at lunchtime, only reappearing towards dusk.  Who knows where they go?

Sunlight plays across the bird-free water. There’s the Tees Transporter Bridge dominating the skyline.

Never mind.  We enjoyed a peaceful walk.  We got a moment of drama when flocks of birds DID appear, swirling and swooping above the lake.  It was quite likely that they were taking evasive action from a resident peregrine falcon hunting for a meal.  Drama over, they disappeared once more.

A peregrine-inspired panic?

We enjoyed our time in this peaceful oasis.  We explored trails that ended in well-equipped hides.

Sky-light, lake-light from the hides.

We studied noticeboards with information about what better-informed visitors had spotted that very day.  We passed fields with the inevitable large numbers of greylag  geese. And towards the end, we were rewarded with just a few sightings: some shelducks feeding; a shoveler or two;  a few swans and a very distant heron.

Greylag geese.

Helpful signage.

Helpful what-we-have-spotted board. We did not contribute.

Shelducks feeding.

Shoveler grooming.

Reedbeds.

But we enjoyed our afternoon. A near-empty wetland, with its unusual backdrop of an industrial past and present, and the never-out-of-sight Tees Transporter Bridge made for a fine afternoon’s walking … and there was even a café.

Camera-shy shelducks.

This multi-tasking post is for Six Word Saturday, January Light (January Squares), and Jo’s Monday Walk.

Highlights of a Bird-free Bird Reserve We had to go to Middlesbrough for an appointment the other day, so we thought we'd stay and explore.

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Winter’s not all bad.  The day begins well for us.  Winter light. If we push breakfast just a little bit later than usual – just before 8 o’clock say – we can watch the sun rise, and the sky lighten and brighten in Neapolitan ice-cream colours as we sit near the kitchen window and chomp through our cereal.

Go outside in the daylight, and we can enjoy the snowdrops, and watch green shoots thrusting through the soil.

The trees are handsome, statuesque as they thrust their naked branches skyward.

Long shadows reach across the fields in the thin, clear January light.

  And back in the house … there’s still some Christmas cake left in the tin.

    #January Light

The Consolations of Winter Winter's not all bad.  The day begins well for us.  Winter light. If we push breakfast just a little bit later than usual - just before 8 o'clock say - we can watch the sun rise, and the sky lighten and brighten in Neapolitan ice-cream colours as we sit near the kitchen window and chomp through our cereal.

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This is my last post about Spain for a while, and it includes images from previous visits too.  Browsing through my collection, I see that windows feature – a lot.

Views through, of, and reflected from windows; views through spaces that serve as windows; and finally, views of things outside windows (washing lines!) that have me imagining the lives lived behind them .  You’ll see all of these here – mainly, but not exclusively from Barcelona.

But let’s start in Granada, at the Alhambra.  This young woman was impossible to get out of shot, as she had to take a selfie from every angle.  In the end, I decided to put her centre stage.

A real view from a real window: our go-to tourist attraction in Barcelona: the Modernista Hospital de Sant Pau.

I’m a sucker for reflecting windows.  This high-end grocery store in Barcelona offered those reflections, as well as showing the goods on offer inside (this one’s for you, Becky)

More windows where it’s the reflections providing the views.

Barcelona.

Maritime Barcelona

Patient horses and their carriages wait by a public toilet window in Plaza de España, Seville.

And now it’s time for those washing lines.

Barcelona.

View from Casa Vicens, Barcelona.

A window, a balcony, washing: Vic.

Two contrasting views through not-a-window: in a garden in the Jewish quarter, Córdoba: and at El Clot-Aragó station, Barcelona.

Finally – this isn’t a view through a window at all.  But who could resist viewing this window in Barcelona?

An entry for Lens Artist Challenge #79: ‘A window with a view’,

and #January Light.

Spanish Views from Spanish Windows This is my last post about Spain for a while, and it includes images from previous visits too. 

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Lights Cross Shadows in Cádiz On a staircase in the Pinillos House, Cádiz Museum. For Becky's January Light

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Near the Cathedral, walking by the Atlantic.

Do you want to come for a walk with me in Cádiz?  Let’s see.  We’ll want to see the Cathedral and its museum; the former Cathedral; the Roman Theatre; the Mercado Central; the Castillo de Santa Catalina; the monument to Cortes of Cádiz, promulgators of the Spanish constitution in 1812; the city walls …..

That sounds too much?  You’re right.  Let’s just go for a stroll instead, and see what turns up.

We’ll start our from our hotel. It was a convent once, and while it’s still a spacious and gracious place, we didn’t have to get up in the small hours to pray.

By day …

…and by night.

We’re surrounded by a warren of old streets just like this.

And just down the street is this greengrocer, with its inviting wall display that changes every day.

Breakfast first though.  Let’s find a bar.  We’re having a large glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, pan con tomate (grilled bread with grated raw tomato and a drizzle of olive oil), and a good strong coffee.

This is from an earlier holiday. But it’s still our standard breakfast.

We needed to post a letter on our first day.  It took us ages to find somewhere.  And  it’s here, in the wall of the Central Post Office.  That was once a convent too.

The Central Post Office

And a letter box.

And look!  These narrow streets need protection from ill-driven carriages crashing into them,  Corners of buildings are kept intact by covering them with metal plates, or even using redundant canons from the Napoleonic wars.

Street-corner-protector

Look hard to find the canon upended and protecting this archway.

We haven’t been to the market yet.  It’s in the hub of the city, and all about the fish: stall after stall of it.  It’s hard to believe there’s anything left in the sea.  Fruit and veg., meat and cheese and all the rest come a poor second here.

We said no sightseeing.  But we have to pop into the cathedral – mind that crane!

The Cathedral interior.

And climb the tower for views over the city.

The industrial face of Cadiz, and a distant view of Puente de la Constitucion, 1812

You’re never more then a minute or two from the sea here.  Views? Of course there are.  But there are also community-driven cats’ homes, randomly furnished with boxes and cast-off carpets, and lots and lots of cats.

And while we’re walking along the seafront – look at this.  It’s a ficus macrophylla – a giant kind of fig tree, allegedly brought back from India as seedlings round about 900 by two nuns.  It’s too big to photograph really.

This ficus was easier to photograph at night.

And here’s La Casa de las Cinco Torres (five houses, despite the name), built facing the sea in the 18th century, to make a fine impression on incoming visitors.

La Casa de las Cinco Torres.

Time for a drink now?  You’re in sherry country (Jerez is just down the road), so let’s go where the locals go, and ask for some advice about what to choose.  Here’s Taberna Manzanilla. Malcolm was offered a 7 year old number, but mine was 14 years old, and accompanied by a local sheep-and-goat cheese. What will you choose?

We could just as well choose La Manteca.  Either way, decorating the interior with bull-fighting posters seems obligatory.

Tired now?  Well, mooch round a bit then – here are some entirely random images.

The seafront

a canon that defended the city.

A fine window that’s seen better days.

A fine detail on this house.

This hairdresser’s took my eye …

… together with the notice outside.

Another street scene.

Sunset

  Then we’ll finish off the day in the fisherman’s quarter, la La Viña , at la Tabernita, a family concern only open at the back end of the week, and weekends, share a few tapas, and wander back to the hotel.

A reflected image of La Tabernita

La Viña by night

Jo’s Monday walk: Jo – I don’t think this walk will get past Quality Control, as it’s a composite.  But I just couldn’t pick one!

Wandering round Cádiz Do you want to come for a walk with me in Cádiz?  Let's see.  We'll want to see the Cathedral and its museum; the former Cathedral; the Roman Theatre; the Mercado Central; the Castillo de Santa Catalina; the monument to Cortes of Cádiz, promulgators of the Spanish constitution in 1812; the city walls .....

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Longer Daylight, More Sunlight = The First Flowers of Spring....

Longer Daylight, More Sunlight = The First Flowers of Spring….

… spotted on a walk through our village yesterday.

Snowdrops – first spotted on January 1st.

These daffodils by the village pond are always extra-early – even though it’s North Yorkshire.

Aconites bravely push up through the gravel.

January Light

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A Parakeet Alights Back home in chilly England, I've been going through my photos.  All 485 of them. I rather want to go back to the days when you had a Kodak Box Brownie, and one, maybe two films of twelve or sixteen shots to get you through the holiday: and when you had to wait more than a week for the chemist (the chemist!) to develop them.