Jazz – Delicious Hot

…as the Bonzo’s said, many years ago.

I’ve told you before about Paul Gunn. And just in case you’ve forgotten, he and his band, the Paul Gunn Collective, play superb contemporary jazz, described as featuring an edgy vintage piano, classical cello solos with Latin and Rock rhythms. You can listen to – and purchase – Paul’s album here. But now Covid restrictions are all but gone, live gigs in pubs are back. And we went to see the band playing in a pub in Tunbridge Wells yesterday.

The quality of the music, it must be said, was far superior to the quality of my photographs, but it was a very wet, gloomy, day, and the light wasn’t ideal for photography. In fact, it was much better suited to drinking lots of beer and listening to damned good music. That part worked perfectly.

Must do it again soon.

Sigh

Poem number five in my Poem-A-Day-For-A-Week-Or-So series. Snow outside, test cricket on the TV, beer in the cupboard. That’s my day sorted, then.

The sea sighs for you tonight.

It sucks at the shingle

And smears your footprints

Like a wet thumb rubbed across writing.

Where once you walked and left your

Prints, it gently wipes the land clean.

Lovingly it lays its cheek to the ground

And nuzzles your memory.

.

We are more than specks

In the infinity of time and space

Yet somehow we need to

Make sense of our lives.

Rock endures

But so does the wind and the rain.

More so, in fact, since in the end

Mountains are levelled

And the wind and rain remain.

.

In the end the passage of many feet

May be more durable than

Dwellings of stone.

Being Wistful: South Downs Way 1 – Eastbourne to Steyning

Some of my own response to the Covid-19 crisis and the restrictions we all find ourselves under is to revisit my favourite places, in books or thought, films or photographs, or even old blog posts. It is sobering and depressing to realise I may not be able to go more than a few miles from home over the coming months, but this does help a little.

The South Downs are a favourite, so I’m going to re-post this short series I put up a couple of years ago after our most recent walk along the South Downs Way:

 

Once upon a time, or five or six years ago, if you prefer, I thought I would start up my own outdoor adventure company. It never happened in the end, largely due to the cost of insurance. However, if I had gone through with it I have to admit it would have been largely so I could go on long distance trails both in the UK and overseas without having to pay for it.

Oh, well. It was a nice idea.

The South Downs Way is a long distance footpath of one hundred miles in length, running from Eastbourne to Winchester, or Winchester to Eastbourne, if you must, along the top of the South Downs.

Hence the name.

We walked it in May.

It is usual, when writing about a journey – especially a long distance walk – to write in some detail about the scenery and the route, in sequential order. I don’t think I’ll do that this time. Instead I’ll probably jump about all over the place writing about odd things we found particularly interesting.  And post one or two photos of the stunning scenery…

039a

Such as this one.

So, a few points of interest.

This, then, is a dew pond:

043a

Chalk is a porous rock, allowing any rainfall to rapidly soak away, so the only way of providing water on the top of the downs is by artificial means. Dew ponds have been made up there for hundreds of years; a hollow is dug and lined with clay, which then fills naturally when the rain falls. Dew is probably not a significant contributor, despite the name. The downside to this simple system is should the pond dry out, then the clay, too, will dry out. When this happens, it will shrink and crack, and subsequent rainfall will leak out.

And while on the subject of rainfall, we didn’t have glorious weather all the way:

053a

We were forced to seek refuge in a convenient pub at the Devil’s Dyke for a couple of hours, but we made the best of it. This was clearly A Good Move because although it was still pouring with rain when we eventually left the pub, it began to clear up in about an hour and then we had sunshine for the rest of the day.

008a

These are cowslips. The word comes from the Old English cuslyppe, which means cow dung, because, yes, that’s where they like to grow, apparently. Years ago, before the coming of intensive farming practices and industrial weedkillers, our fields were full of cowslips, but they seem to be met with now primarily in the more open landscapes – like downland. For the first few days of our walk, especially, we saw lots of cowslips.

We had a rest day at Steyning, although we stayed at nearby Bramber.

050a

Bramber Castle is a strange and mysterious place, which magically energises the over sixties and causes them to revert to their childhood.

Although not for long, sadly.

The Climber – 3

This is the third poem in my series ‘The Climber’. Links to the other 2 can be found at the bottom of the page.

001a

He breathes climbing.

 

He eats and sleeps climbing.

Hell, I guess he even farts climbing.

 

His would be the van you didn’t notice,

Parked unobtrusively in the farthest corner.

His, the life pared down to the bare minimum.

 

If asked, he might condescend to teach for a day,

To earn enough to buy some food.

For a week or more.

 

Or perhaps to go towards that new rope

That he really ought to get.

 

But he will resent the waste of his time,

When he might be climbing.

 

Just as he will, too, on those days when

The rain just falls and falls.

And he sits frustrated beneath the shelter,

Dispensing good advice and

Recounting adventures

To anyone who will listen.

 

Or muttering ‘Perhaps we should all move

To Spain, or Yosemite,

To somewhere it doesn’t rain

All the bloody time.’

 

But when the weather clears

His good humour will return

And he will be back on the crag.

 

Climbing any route you care to suggest.

Links:

The Climber 1

The Climber 2

The Climber – 1

004a

A few days ago I went for a walk which included passing along the base of the crag where I was teaching climbing for all those years. It was a fine day, but I was the only one around – no one climbing, or even walking. As you do, I began idly looking at different climbs and visualising the moves I would need to climb them. It was then a few lines came to me that might constitute a poem on the subject.

I wandered around slowly, musing, jotting ideas down in my notebook.

Well, surprise, surprise. I now have several finished poems and will probably put them up here later this year as a series – perhaps once the climbing season has started again, and when I’ve decided what to illustrate them with.

But as a bit of a taster, here is the first one.

He steps one foot onto the thin ledge,

Hugging his body close to the rock face,

And slides,

Slowly,

His fingers walking up the wall,

Into balance.

 

He thrusts a leg out into space

And the watchers gasp.

Is he falling?

They move unconsciously away

From the base of the crag.

 

But no,

He keeps his balance.

 

Ah!

 

Now he reaches up

Up…

Just a little…

Further…

There!

 

Two fingers hook over

A thin flake of rock

And he scrambles up.

 

He smiles.

 

‘It’s all in the technique,’ he calls down.

‘Nothing to do with strength.’

 

South Downs Way 1 – Eastbourne to Steyning

Once upon a time, or five or six years ago, if you prefer, I thought I would start up my own outdoor adventure company. It never happened in the end, largely due to the cost of insurance. However, if I had gone through with it I have to admit it would have been largely so I could go on long distance trails both in the UK and overseas without having to pay for it.

Oh, well. It was a nice idea.

The South Downs Way is a long distance footpath of one hundred miles in length, running from Eastbourne to Winchester, or Winchester to Eastbourne, if you must, along the top of the South Downs.

Hence the name.

We walked it in May.

It is usual, when writing about a journey – especially a long distance walk – to write in some detail about the scenery and the route, in sequential order. I don’t think I’ll do that this time. Instead I’ll probably jump about all over the place writing about odd things we found particularly interesting.  And post one or two photos of the stunning scenery…

039a

Such as this one.

So, a few points of interest.

This, then, is a dew pond:

043a

Chalk is a porous rock, allowing any rainfall to rapidly soak away, so the only way of providing water on the top of the downs is by artificial means. Dew ponds have been made up there for hundreds of years; a hollow is dug and lined with clay, which then fills naturally when the rain falls. Dew is probably not a significant contributor, despite the name. The downside to this simple system is should the pond dry out, then the clay, too, will dry out. When this happens, it will shrink and crack, and subsequent rainfall will leak out.

And while on the subject of rainfall, we didn’t have glorious weather all the way:

053a

We were forced to seek refuge in a convenient pub at the Devil’s Dyke for a couple of hours, but we made the best of it. This was clearly A Good Move because although it was still pouring with rain when we eventually left the pub, it began to clear up in about an hour and then we had sunshine for the rest of the day.

008a

These are cowslips. The word comes from the Old English cuslyppe, which means cow dung, because, yes, that’s where they like to grow, apparently. Years ago, before the coming of intensive farming practices and industrial weedkillers, our fields were full of cowslips, but they seem to be met with now primarily in the more open landscapes – like downland. For the first few days of our walk, especially, we saw lots of cowslips.

We had a rest day at Steyning, although we stayed at nearby Bramber.

050a

Bramber Castle is a strange and mysterious place, which magically energises the over sixties and causes them to revert to their childhood.

Although not for long, sadly.

Southern India (2)

trichy skyline 2

Another shot of the skyline of Sri Ranganathaswamy Temple in Trichy.

trichy temple door

Decorated door in the Sri Ranganathaswamy Temple.The scorch marks at the foot of the door are from candles and incense sticks, which have been lit and offered to the god in pujas.

shore temple

Shore Temple, Mamallapuram. Mamallapuram is a short way South of Chennai (Madras) and is a large village which is home to hundreds of stone sculptors. The village itself has a wealth of old temples and sculptures in the form of friezes and ‘Rathas’ – literally chariots, carved out of solid rock. The Shore Temple shown here has been extensively weathered by wind and sea, but has a remarkable amount of detail still preserved.

5 rathas elephant

Carved Elephant at the 5 Rathas, Mamallapuram. An incredible complex of rock-cut temples from the Pallavan Period, 300m from the shore. They were buried under the sand until rediscovered and excavated by the British some 200 years ago.

side street

Sometimes it seems that there is a temple down every side-street. This one is in a village near the town of Dindigul, Tamil Nadu.

roof shrine

This roof shrine is nearby.

salt-workers

Salt workers pose for a photograph at the salt pans near Marakkanam, just north of Pondicherry (now renamed Puducherry, its original name before the French arrived). The sea is allowed to flow into ‘pans’ (not unlike paddy fields!) and then evaporates over several days under the hot sun, leaving behind a layer of salt which is gathered by hand. Salt has been gathered this way in India from time immemorial, but when the British in India imposed a salt tax, this eventually led to the ‘Salt March’ led by Gandhi, where he symbolically gathered salt at the coast after a 200km march, an action that contributed to the loosening of the hold that the British Raj held on India.