Northern Lights and Other Strangers

I walked down to the studio in almost sun, as the sun was just burning of the morning mist.  I de-toured to admire the snowdrops in the graveyard.  Very lovely with the mist and all.

When I asked the young people, of course the Northern Lights had been on twitter and facebook.  And Mo had posted some pictures he took in the Goyt Valley, so it was very close.  Apparently that wasn't very late, so I was probably still reading my book when I missed it.  I am currently reading:

An Interesting Book

Jacobites, Airships and The Earl of Derwentwater's Lights

Breakfast TV was rather rock and roll this morning.  They had Bruce Dickinson on with his new airship - the largest ever built, which he reckons is the new eco way to travel; and Tim O'Brien from Jodrell Bank talking about the Northern Lights.

Last time I went out last night (about 8.30pm) there was a lovely clear sky and bright stars.  Apparently the Northern Lights were then seen hereabouts - Tim O'Brien said he photographed them in the hills near Sheffield, which is close.  When I go into the studio I'll ask those who indulge more in social media if the Northern Lights appeared here. I don't know why, because if they were, I'll just be sick.

When they were talking about the Northern Lights, I was thinking about the Jacobite connection.  "The Jacobite connection?" you say.  Yes, the interviewers asked Tim O'Brien to imagine how people felt about the Aurora before they knew the science of them, perhaps they were seen as a portent.  Then I thought, no, not a portent, but a marker, of something catastrophic.  When the Earl of Derwentwater joined the '15 rebellion (the one before Bonnie Prince Charlie), he was caught and imprisoned in London.  The fabulous Dorothy Forster rode to London in one night and saved her brother, Tom, but the Earl was hanged.  His remains were spirited away, and to quote this book:

A Good Book

"they were secretly conveyed to the family vault in Northumberland, by a little procession which travelled by night and rested by day.  On the night of Tuesday, 6 March 1716 the hearse carrying Lord Derwentwater's body approached Dilston.  That night, all over Engalnd, the sky was lit by a fiery brilliance - the aurora borealis was brighter than had been known before and darkness never came.  It was fearfully whispered to be an omen of heaven's wrath and from that time the Northern Lights became known throughout Northumberland as "Lord Derwentwater's Lights".

I love Northumbrian history, and I love the way we have some many castles we don't really bother with them.  In my childhood Dilston Castle was empty and unused.  It has been used for various purposes since, the last I knew being a residential school for people with special needs.  I think it was a police training college once, but I'm not sure.  So many castles, what can you do with them all?

p.s. do you think Bruce Dickinson and Frankie Dickinson are related?  If Bruce Dickinson was originally Northumbrian that would be so cool.  He does live in a castle, I think.

Jacobites, Big Balls and Canny Tales

Last night I watched Dr Bendor Grosvenor searching for the lost portrait of Bonnie Prince Charlie.  Bendor came over quite well in this programme.  He rode his motorbike to the various locations he was searching, which always helps to make a chap likeable.

Watching the programme I was struck by a couple of things.  I have always lived in old Jacobite areas; Northumberland, Manchester and Derbyshire.  Perhaps it is simply that, like a Jacobite, I couldn't contemplate going south of Derby.  In Northumberland there is the tragic adventure of Charles Radcliffe, the Earl of Derwentwater; here there are tales of Scotsmen furtively travelling through the hills after the retreat was sounded.

Secondly, Bendor managed to say that while Bonnie Prince Charlie was in Edinburgh, "balls were held in his honour".  Maybe it was just the bike, but I thought that Bendor was referring to the AC/DC classic "I've Got Big Balls".  (it's my belief that my big balls should be held every night).  Miss and Master Aimson couldn't believe that track when they first heard it.  When it was released the track was a double entente, punning on balls (as fancy dances) and balls (as in anatomy).  By the time Miss and Master Aimson heard it, it was a single entente, as balls is no longer used in the fancy dance context.  English children nowadays have heard of proms, not balls. 

At the time they heard it the Labour party were holding their leadership election, and Master Aimson wanted Ed Balls to win, so that Labour's campaign music could be "We've got Ed Balls, we've got Ed Balls, we've got the Eddest balls of them all".  Labour really missed a trick there.

Yesterday I bought this at the Saturday Bazaar, or is that the Saturday Bizarre:

A Canny Book

Leeks, Whistles, and True Raven Black

Yesterday we had a trip to Leek in the on again, off again sun.  We popped in to the Foxlowe first.  There was a ceramics exhibition on upstairs.  Sylvia Glover has her beautiful bowls, including her stacks of tiny bowls, in the exhibition.

Then we went down Stockwell Street to look in the Nicholson Institute, which I have never got round to looking at before.  It is, indeed, a rum do.  There is a very fleamsy collection of odds and ends:  some Wardle textiles, a stuffed wallaby, some vaudeville posters; and a Whistler.  I read the label about 10 times before I believed that there was an actual real-life Whistler on the wall in this fleamsy selection of bizarre and overlooked.  But there it was.  If you don't believe me, go and have a look.  Here is the Tourist Information map:

A Map

By the way, there were some old maps in the Nicholson Museum as well, and some old documents like a Jacobite letter and the confession of the last man hanged, in 1741, I think.  There was also a replica of a dress made in True Raven Black Dyed fabric, a speciality of the Leek dyeworks.

You will also be pleased to know that Leek Oatcakes appears to have been bought by a sympathetic buyer, and looks like it is operating in a traditional manner.  I couldn't verify this as it was afternoon, and the shop was closed, as it should be, in the traditional manner.  So that's good news.

Clouds, Carlos and the Truth

Last night I watched:

A Worthwhile film.

I seem to remember the reviews weren't too good when it came out.  I enjoyed it, but then I like a reincarnation theme.  It is in the tradition of Red Shift, and Ferney, which as you know is my favourite book ever.  I think I still prefer Ferney for several reasons. 

For one thing, I like the fact that the reincarnation in Ferney just is.  There are no pronouncements about life or love or anything.  They just are a couple who always reincarnate together, they just do.  The only "meaning" is that; it is the story.  That's the other thing: Cloud Atlas is a beautiful patchwork, montage, collage, or mosaic; but is a bit short on a storyline, or one overall narrative to grip you. 

But it was an enjoyable film to watch, with lots of good bits.  There was just a lingering sense of dissatisfaction that it was, in the end, a bit bitty. 

Something that stood out in the 1973 story was a mention of Carlos Castaneda.  I remember that from my 1970s childhood.  My dad had the books, and I tried to read them a couple of times.  Some seven years ago or so, my Dad gave me the books and I read them then:

Hey

Hey

Hippy

Shit.

I then read the book that changed it all for my Dad:

Oh Shit!

To him, it proved that it had all been a con, and not real at all.  He was very disappointed.  The book didn't totally convince me to abandon Carlos Castaneda.  I still think he has something worth saying, and maybe it is true ... in a way...

p.s. this was the bookmark in the first book, a bus ticket from the time:

20p!

Rocking and Reeling in Tornado Town

I went for a walk in the rain yesterday, down town, just to amuse myself.  Walking in the rain turned my mind to thoughts of festivals and Bearded Theory and Tornado Town.

So I bought a copy of:

A Good Magazine

Good news to report:

Item one:
Hayseed Dixie are playing Bearded Theory

Item Two:
Becky Unthank's collaboration with composer Martin Green on the Opera North-commissioned Crows' Bones will be available on album early in 2014. 
The project is an exploration of the ghostly and unnerving tales of the folk tradition, past and present.  Playing on it is Swedish nickleharpa player Niklas Roswall.

How can you go wrong with that?  Sounds completely fleamsy to me.  The last time I heard a nickleharpa was at The Ceilidh Place (where we saw Alasdair Roberts play last summer - see post Art, Assemblages and Alasdair).  It was in this group:

A Good CD

I like the name Salamander, but why did they come up with Bellevue Rendezvous?  Does that suggest a Scottish folk group to you?  It's a bit of a puzzle.

I would suggest in rainy weather you think happy thoughts of festivals, holidays, gigs and crows' bones.  It works for me.

Boys and a Boat

Here is a picture of two little boys on holiday  in Skegness, forced to pose by a boat for an embarrassing photo.

The older boy doesn't seem to mind, but the younger does, I think:

How Embarrassing

Water, Water Everywhere...

We aren't too troubled here with water or flooding.  There is a definite advantage to living near the tops of the hills.  We may be above the snowline, but there isn't much chance of flood water standing around here.  (It is snowing as I type).  Listening to experts talking on the news, I am reminded of the time of drought before Master Aimson was born.

When Miss Aimson was born we were in a time of hot dry summers.  Ben Elton had written a book about drought in Australia, and the general fear was of water running out.  Two years later, in the summer before Master Aimson was born, fears of a lack of water were increasing.  Some other people we knew in Buxton were expecting their second child and had decided to fill their cellar with pallets of bottled water.  They figured when tap water ran out, they could profiteer selling their stocks of water at an enormous mark-up.  I distinctly remember seeing a news report where an expert said "this is a permanent lowering of the water table".

By the time Master Aimson was born in early September the rain started.  I'm not saying it was directly his fault, but it rained and it poured.  The water table was filled up again. 

Now the water table is so full in the flooded areas of the country that water is just flowing out of the ground.

Permanent lowering of the water table indeed. 

Cloak and Dagger

Myself and Master Aimson have just returned from Manchester.  Whilst getting a taxi to Piccadilly Station, I noticed Cloak Street.  I looked round for Dagger Road, but I couldn't find it.  Nor Top Hat Avenue or Sword-Cane Square.  They must be there somewhere, but perhaps it's a part of town you don't want to hang around in too long.
Cloak Street would be a great place to have a club.  Or a cloak shop.  Or should that be emporium.

The Snow, The Snow!

Here is a picture from the window at Aimo's House:

Some Snow

p.s. I'm lying

Sharks, Grizzlies and Friendship

Recently tinterweb news was telling me about a cull of Great White sharks in Western Australia (well in the sea off the coast of Australia, I don't think there are many sharks inland, even in Australia).  Apart from thinking it was sad, I thought in the past people accommodated themselves to where they lived, and now people expect to live the same lives wherever they are, and if any accommodating is needed, it is the environment that needs to do it.

In one way, it is good that people do have expectations of enjoying their lives.  The people of our past, like in the unquiet country of time immemorial:

Our Past

would never have the expectation that they should be able enjoy their lives, and it is a huge amount of progress that working people can be free as never before. 

On the other hand, things have changed in a strange way.  In a way that if people want to immigrate to Australia and surf and swim, they expect sharks to be exterminated so that they can.  In the same way people in England do things like moving to the country and they getting court orders to stop bell-ringing or have donkeys put down because they are making too much noise too early in the morning.

Freedom is strange.  And somebody around here probably needs a slap.  I find that is usually the case wherever you are.

This film:

A Good film

covers these points in an interesting case study.  Timothy Treadwell wanted to be free to live with the bears, and protect them in his way.  A local native American speaking in the film explains why it was a bad idea.  In the way of his people you didn't mix with bears, generally you tried to keep away from them.  He disapproved of people mixing with bears because it confused the issue on both sides.  People live with people and bears live with bears (well not really very much, they mostly live by themselves).  There is a way to know and respect, even love bears without living with them.  It is a pagan way, a way to love without possession.  I am practising this a bit with my cat friend.  She comes to visit me and we are pleased to see each other, but she isn't mine and at the moment I don't intend to get a cat of my own.  I am just enjoying friendship with nature, without ownership.

p.s. the extra features: In The Edges, making the music for Grizzly Man, is amazing and well worth a watch.

Patched and Mended

After having decided last year I was not doing patchwork anymore, I put all my fabric and hexagons in the loft (where I found the Lost Book of Fleams papers).  Friends said make a decision, if you're chucking it out, then get rid of it.  I felt the time was not right to make a final choice, and I left my materials in the loft.

Last night, after looking at so many beautiful vintage and ethnic fabrics and textile objects on etsy, I felt a glow of inspiration for textiles again.  I almost rediscovered my love of textiles.  What if patchwork was my hobby?, I thought.  It was trying to make it a living that drove me to hate it.  Maybe if I was making a living with The Lost Book of Fleams, the shop and the writing, and patchwork was my hobby, I would love it again?

It's looking possible.

Here is a patchwork design that was a good seller in the days before the recession:

A Print of an Original

Maybe I'm mended?  I hope so.

My Dear Ladyfriend

You remember the vintage postcard Miss Aimson gave me for Christmas?:

Christmas Kittens

Well, the other day I was using it as a bookmark (yes, I'm backsliding, I'm back on the real stuff instead of the Kobo) and I noticed the back for the first time:

The Back

I have transcribed it, as follows:

My Dear Ladyfriend
I am writing to let you know that I am quite well, and hope you are the same.  We are all very sorry to have lost our dear king.  If you can will you come and see me.  So now I have said all and remain yours
respectfully Maggie.

and it is addressed to:

Miss Harston
Abbey Wood
London Road
Newark.

The phrase "have lost our dear king" dates the card to sometime shortly after 6 May 1910, when Edward VII died.  The rest is a little bit strange.  It reads like a young person pretending to be an adult writing to a friend.  But I don't think one lady writing to another lady actually addresses the correspondence "My Dear Ladyfriend".  But what do I know?  I rarely write to ladies.

Netties and Bogs

I went with Cheryl to walk her dog yesterday.  The ground was very boggy after all the rain.  Cheryl being an accomplished dog-walker was sporting wellies, but my boots were a bit slippery. 

That started me thinking about bogs this morning as I walked down to the studio.  Do you know the difference between a nettie and a bog?  In the North East, a nettie is a bit more classy than a bog.  The derivation of nettie was first explained to me by an old lady, let's call her Mrs Snowball (because that's her name).  Nettie is short for necessity, and usually refers to an outside toilet belonging to one house.  A bog was originally a block of communal toilets belonging to a group of houses in back-to-back terracing.

When I was a kid we always said bogs for toilets and bog roll for the relevant supplies.  I don't know what the young dudes say now, probably some dreadful Americanism.  I remember one school trip we went to Housesteads Roman fort.  Naturally, the highlight of tour was the Roman bogs.  At that point, the guide interrupted the giggling to ask what the proper word for bogs was.  Eventually someone said lavatory.  She replied "No, posher than that".  The idea that there was a word for bogs that was posher that lavatory totally boggled my mind.  "Posher than lavatory, is that possible?"  The word she was looking for was latrine.

Here is a photo, taken a long time after my school trip, of Aimo and Martin trying the Roman bogs at Housesteads:

Some bogs

Angels. Buffy and Granny

I finished watching The Dark Angel.  He wasn't a vampire, he was just a bastard.  I hate it when that happens; when something acts all supernatural, then has a perfectly logical explanation.  I had to watch a few episodes of Buffy to get my 'supernatural is real' quota back up.  I don't know if Sheridan Le Fanu gets my vote after that, but maybe I will try a bit more reading later.  Sometime.  If I have some time to kill.

Drum roll please ... here is the front cover of the new Fleams Chapbook...

Ta-Dah!

That's it so far.  Well, the text is written, of course, and I have some more of the page-frame prints prepared, but still lots of work to do.  But ... Ta-Dah!

Here is another image I have been playing about with in the studio:

Ta-Dah - ish

Please form an orderly queue if you wish to get hold of your own hand-pressed copies of Fleamsy art.

Dark Angels, Black Bustles and White Cats

When I came back from the studio yesterday, two new DVDs were waiting for me on the doormat; The Dark Angel and one other, more later on that.  Starting watching The Dark Angel last night, after Waldemar Januscyck (I'm not sure about the spelling, but I can pronounce it) telling me about Dark Rococo:

Amazing

I have been looking for a DVD of this television series for a while.  I remember that me and Aimo watched it on television, and saw two out of three episodes, and I always wanted to know how it ended.  Now I see from the cover that it was first broadcast from 4 - 18 January 1989, which would be when we first moved to the cottage, and then we would have missed the last episode because it was Aimo's mum's birthday.  The gaps in the story are being filled in.  By the way, I'm only half way through the second episode, so don't tell me how it finishes.  I think it might be something to do with vampires.

I may only be thinking vampires because it is a film of a Sheridan Le Fanu story, and he is famously a bit vampirey:

A Bit Vampirey

I have his famous story Carmilla in this collection.  He was from Dublin, and wrote stories based in Ireland, but his publisher advised him to make his stories English if he wanted to have success in the English market.  In reworking a previous short story to write Uncle Silas (the book The Dark Angel is based on) he chose to set it in Derbyshire, which is cool.  When Bram Stoker, a later Dublin writer of spooky stories wanted to set a story in England, he chose Derbyshire for The Lair of The White Lair.  In such a way, Derbyshire becomes the classic setting for spooky stories, which is very handy for The Lost Book of Fleams, which, as you know, is set in the Three Shires area of Derbyshire.

By the way, Sheridan Le Fanu is a very cool name for the writer of vampirey stories, and is his real name.  His mother's name was Emma Lucretia Dobbin, which doesn't work as well.

p.s. The Dark Angel is brilliant, and I can't wait for Miss Aimson to see it, as she will love it.

Christmas Frogs

We had a surprise on Saturday 1st February - a Christmas postcard arrived from Australia.  Here it is (I assume my cousin has customised it - he obviously has too much time on his hands):

It's Christmas!

On Sunday we went to a very stylish gallery.  We had not heard of it, we just saw it in passing.  The Hawthorn Gallery in Stalybridge.  It is in a building which was the Hare and Hounds pub, and they have kept it as a pub indoors, and fitted the gallery around it.  It works really well.

I suppose I'd better go to the studio and do some work, so see you later!