More Jan

Meanders

Stubbing Lane


Stubbing Lane: there appear to be at least four roads of that name in addition to our Worksop one: Sheffield, Halifax, Skipton and Sowerby Bridge. Note that these four are all in Yorkshire. What does ‘stubbing’ mean? Is it a Yorkshire word?
The only thing that I can believe is that it comes from: ‘late Middle English stubben to dig up by the roots, clear stumps from (land)’, indicating that woodlands had been cleared to allow farming of crops.

On one of my daily walks I was overtaken by a group, ten or twelve, of ‘walkers’. They were determinedly covering ground, complete with backpacks and walking poles. They were obviously serious in their walking but they barely glanced at what they were passing. What’s that all about? When I walk I like to take the time to look around for anything of interest and of course work my camera. I’ll even change my intended route on a whim, something that organised walkers don’t do. Continue reading

Jan Cont

So! I have begun to try to keep up to date with my blog posting. No promises though.

Don’t you just hate it when folk begin a statement with ‘so’? I first noticed it on ‘Pointless’ which is a fairly harmless entertainment on t’Beeb at tea time. When asked by the host, one Alexander Armstrong, what their occupation was, the answer would begin with: “So, Xander, I’m a floggle burner’s mate”frinstance. I think that I’m growing more and more intolerant as I age. (Don’t mention Brexit to me!)
People who I can’t stand, despite generally agreeing with them: Stephen Fry, Ricky Gervais, Richard Dawkins. I am, I’m becoming less tolerant.
Anyhow; here’s a crescent moon at ten past four in the afternoon on the twentieth:

Moon @ 4:10 pm

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October: first post

I’ll have to do a full blog post about Lady Lee some time.

A little snippet: First off three facts:
I am male;
I am 73 years old;
I have long (for a bloke) unkempt hair.

Shopping in B&M today I overheard a young girl in a pushchair:
“It’s a boy!”
Staring up at me as I walked by: “Mummy, it’s a boy!”
The reply, as I passed out of earshot: “Shhh. Some boys have long hair.”

Boy!
Me!
Boy!
Made my day!
Smiling broadly I thanked the mother when I bumped into them at the other end of the aisle.

Anyhoo, on with the Month of October.
I long believed* that blackberries lost their sweetness on the night of 29th/30th September, this being Michaelmas and vouched for by none other than The National Geographic.
This is, however, wrong. In fact the date is the eleventh of October – old Michaelmas day. In case there’s anyone unfamiliar with Michaelmas; it’s the date on which the Archangel Michael whupped Satan and chucked him out of Heaven. Satan landed on a blackberry bush and either cursed it, spat on it or peed on it depending on which part of Britain you take note of, thus removing the sweetness.
Don’t you feel better for knowing that?
*(not really!)

Three little maids

Don’t know if they are all maids but … (how do you tell boys from girls? Without getting really close up, that is)

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September: tranche the second

For was it not that September, the true Autumn month, did continue in the blog of the Wazzock and lo many were the images which were exposéd. Now these images were of varying quality but open to scrutiny by anyone with the key to the mystery of the ‘internet address’ which was promulgated openly upon the ‘World Wide Web’.
Among the earliest of these depictions was one of such low quality that it might have been considered below the desirability of anyone to publish or, coming upon it while ‘surfing the web’, to condescend to view. It was said, however, that such was the nature of this image or ‘photograph’ that it was looked on as worthy of publication in the blogpost of the Wazzock.
(Translation: It’s a crap picture but interesting nonetheless)
So here ’tis.

Grass snake in the canal

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September begins

    September’s the real Autumn month, there’s plenty of mellow fruitfulness – berries, nuts, apples, pears, hips, haws, sloes and other fruit abound. Not so much on the mists but maybe that’s ’cause I’m allergic to early rising. I ‘did’ Keats† for ‘O’ level English Lit.
John Keats wrote ‘Ode To Autumn’

Monster in the reeds

Here’s our turtle. Continue reading