Time for Tea

Some Melbourne Chinatown teapots for Ross.

Holgate's

This one's for Ross.

We had Jo and Paul up for part of the weekend, and finished with a post-lunch visit to Holgate's pub in Woodend. I was driving. Below, Bev collects the first round.

You can see other pubs with Holgate beers on tap are listed above the bar on the glass. There's even a space at the bottom for 'The Shears Inn, Halifax, W Yorkshire'.

Or maybe not.

The drinks. Left to right, pots of Hopinator, for Jo; the Holgate's Pilsner, for Bev (showing her North American and German preferences); a Lemon, Lime & Bitters for me (did I mention I was driving?); and a Mount Macedon Pale Ale for Paul.

Ready?
Cheers!
Ah. Your shout, I think!

James

This one's for the fathers

We've been glued to the TV on Thursday nights for a short 20 minute programme called Gourmet Farmer on SBS. This episode has got Ross and Jim written all over it, with whiskey, truffles, fly fishing, smoking fish and venison...


Matthew Evans was a food critic (and before that a chef*) but decided to give that up to go and run his own farm on Tasmania - with no experience. Thankfully the programme, rather than focusing on the inevitable mistakes, tedious hard work and problems, instead looks at the help he gets from the locals and the experiences - particularly with food - that he has, and most of those experiences and certainly the food are tempting - very tempting. Recipes here.

The show streams online after broadcast here in Australia, so I hope it's viewable overseas. This is the penultimate episode of the first series. It's a well put together and - did I mention - tempting show. We even forgive him for his previous Sydney bias.

Enjoy!

*Presumably, then, he's going to end up a poacher.

On an Anthology of Short Poems

There have always been, throughout my lucky

life, squadrons of quite unexpected flukes

awaiting me at every turn; this is, no doubt,

a decent working-definition of the Nature of

Existence – I am not now, nor have I ever been –

a claimant to Originality!

But since I'm old and

faltering towards… who knows what… I just feel

absurdly grateful for a book – it's one I found

upon the small, select, usually untroubled

local library shelf of verse – I open it and find

at once a poem by that twisted, hunch-backed dwarf

I thought I knew, old Alexander, Pontiff of the Lock,

extolling piss, because its fount would lead

a knowing seeker to the Heart!



This morning, home abed and comfortable in

calm, agnostic Winter dawn, I reached across

the bedside table, narrowly avoiding

spillage of the dregs of last night's

whisky, and found the Book – I smiled again at

Alexander's earthy flaunting of the blunt,

ironic purposes of smut and all its masculine

appeal; but suddenly, quite unannounced , an

unknown medieval poet, in eight small lines brings

Mary to my bed foot, claims attention, runs with

utter confidence – I almost hear his smiling voice –

a well-honed lance into the swelling

heart that every parent must acknowledge – mine's

ever full – and tells me in such simple terms

that under all the blue-robed iconography She

was a but Mother, and the Rood was nothing

to her but an invitation to her own death!



A blessed unbeliever, I am swamped by

inundating tears – a mere millennium or

two between us, God's Mother, and a

Father Finite of a Blissful Brood who'll never

read this – or if they do, they'll shake their

heads and mutter, 'I guess that's what

the silly bugger might have thought of then!'

Ross Kightly

British Steampunk is alive and recordbreaking...

From the British Steam Car website.

Another land speed record falls to the UK. Perhaps one that's not exactly facing ferocious competition these days, but it is the fastest steam-powered car in the world.

On August 25th, 2009 at Edward's Air Force Base in California, USA, the British Steam Car, driven by Charles Burnett III broke the existing land speed record by a steam powered vehicle with an average speed of 139.843 mph over two consecutive runs over a measured mile. This was recorded and has since been ratified by the FIA.

On August 26th, 2009 the British Steam Car, driven this time by Don Wales, broke a second record by achieving an average speed of 148.308 mph over two consecutive runs over a measured kilometer. This was also recorded and again, has since been ratified by the FIA.

From the Steam Car website.

BBC Report here.

Well done, team, and that'll teach them to say steam power is dead! Not to mention the recent construction of an all new mainline steam engine in the UK. (That would be the 170 tonne 18 year project locomotive No. 60163 Tornado.)

Oh, and for those that might be puzzled by the headline, Steampunk (Wiki page) refers to an aesthetic and idea combining generally 19th century concepts (such as steam power) and style with more modern developments, usually along an alternative history line - William Gibson & Bruce Sterling's The Difference Engine being often cited as a pioneer of the idea - and a rattling good yarn too. But they didn't foresee this real-world steam development.

(Thanks to Ross for the pointer.)

James

CAREERS LESSON

It was just after he’d decided that
he was unlikely to make it as a
Rum Runner working out of Vera Cruz,
or a Torpedo fronting up to the tough
Pinkerton Dicks in Frisco that he realised
perhaps he could make a good Snow-Plough
Driver in the streets of Anchorage, Alaska –
surely they needed good Snow-Plough Drivers
so far North!

Or, with his hands extended to
benefit from the coal fire’s heat, he thought
of being a Teacher in an Inner City Comp
just like his mum had been before she left!

Ross Kightly

Draft version from the notebook.

Guest Poem: 'Special'

Today we have a guest spot, with a poem by Ross, kindly supplied in return for the gift of a Moleskine notebook last year. When asked if we could publish a poem or two, Ross said: "I've thought about it and would be delighted, so I'm including in the body of this email the 'latest' draft of 'Special'."

So, dear reader, here we are.

SPECIAL

I'm down at last – through squelch

and patronising signs –

'Landowners Welcome Caring Walkers' –

to find him at the bus stop.



He 'likes my bonnet' (the

Ashes sunhat you gave me, Son)

and straight off I know he's military –

and the accent isn't Yorkshire –


'Canadian –

Army man – World War Two…'



'You must've been young!'



'Eighty-five. Work with young folks.'



As if that explains something!



I guess I must look…

interested, so the conversation…

lecture – let's be frank – it's

after all his job now: 'Historical Speaker on

Army Matters'… well, whatever it is, it

continues on the bus all the way down

to the grey-brown valley foot!



When he dings to alight, I've

heard about his First Special Force

experiences, seen his personal,

engraved medallion on a delicate

gold chain around his seasoned

neck, and we've agreed the kids

just need to be 'taken there

with words' and how you have to 'be

careful putting it right' –

they'll understand in time that

'sometimes questions can't

be answered': If Wilhelmina –

'Smart-arse kid, sometimes the girls

are just as bad…' asks

'Did you kill?' she gets to stand in for

the man who knows and

answer for him –

'Do you want to tell these kids you killed their…

father?'

'…No…'

'Brother…'


'…No…'



'Cousin?…'



'By the time I get to "Uncle" Wilhelmina's

usually in tears.

All that stuff's mine to know

and live with. Nobody knows –

not family, not friends…'



But as he tosses a jaunty salute

past the bus window from the pavement,

I know.

Ross Kightly

Images: Top - Yorkshire bus stop; Halifax station at the bottom of the hill and descending mist.Both Bev. 'Here you are - don't lose it again' victory & peace in Europe, by Zec, Imperial War Museum, Lambeth, James.

Our cards, calling

One of the neat presents we got this year was a selection of very special cards. These were created by Ross from our photographs; some taken on our around the world trip, others from Victorian scenes and a sprinkling of his own images.

We are torn between wanting to send and share them (some cards choose their own recipients) and wanting to treasure them 'as a set'.

They were also a great reminder of some of the best times this year. Thanks, Ross!

B&J

Treviso I

We had a great time in Treviso, basing ourselves there for access to Venice and the surrounding area. We'd happily recommend it. It has most of the good things of Venice, without the fuss and tourists. Being a walled city, it also reminded me of Lucca, as well.

Ross kindly sent us a CD of his photos, and we thought it would be fun to show you Treviso through Ross' camera. So without further ado:

A typical view in Treviso. The large network of canals and streams harkens back to Venice, but the quickly flowing fresh water is significantly nicer (to look at, anyway). Also, unlike Venice, it's clear real people live there (not just tourist-fleecers) including at the University, so it has a lot more life about it than Venice, and is a lot less precious.

It's not all cleanly presented facades, though. This one looks ready as a set for some Verdi opera. La Donna vado Splash perhaps.


While I wonder if the people who live in the house (above) are tall and thin too?


You'd never know it, but behind one of these pillars is a quilt shop...


...although I don't think that's where she's going.


Ah, amore.

..which is usually disturbed by the giovanotti on their Vespas.


Treviso is also rightly famous for its frescoes.


But not it's widget shops, although they seem to halt me. Quick and good sharpening - but they were closed.

Our villa was just outside the walls, and was, frankly, wonderful. It lurked behind these gates...
...up this driveway...
...past the potted plants...
...and we had our own entrance and the entire first floor was ours!


The following is a non-Treviso gratuitous lunch shot. Toothsome, eh?

Hope you enjoyed that.
James