Arundel Castle Storm Sky.

I was outside Ford station looking northward and there was a storm coming over and the sky looked awesome as though it couldn't make its mind up and Arundel Castle just shone out defiantly against the menacing sky above it. On the other side the sky was so determinedly tranquil that I wondered which side would overcome the other. So enthralled was I with the dramatic beauty of it that I tried to engage the fellow standing beside me as we waited for the crossing gates to open, "Have you noticed the sky over Arundel?" I asked him. But he was busy looking at his mobile phone and seemed not to hear me. Such a pity really because it was something truly special to behold.

Storm over Arundel Castle

This picture was done on my computer.

Our Wildlife Pond.

In a few weeks the wildlife pond made by my Extremely Handsome Son George will be looking resplendent, but right now it looks murky and uninviting.  But note the chair. EHS George has been sitting quietly observing.

We are disappointed that no frog or toad spawn has appeared in the pond this year. Last year we put some in from another pond and we had hundreds of tadpole’s hatch and grow well. Little frogs and toads galore. We thought we would be sure to have our own spawn this year, but it doesn’t seem likely now. There are frogs in the water but no mating taking place. We have concluded, rightly or wrongly, that last year’s babies are too young to mate. Maybe next year? Not all is lost however because the wildlife pond he made in Tricia’s garden does have spawn in it. Although there was always a small pond there previously and the inhabitants obviously stayed.



The good news is we have the endangered Great Crested Newt in the pond. EHS was excited to discover this last summer and they are back again. There are also lots of Common Newts. Good news considering the pond is not yet even four years old.

Two years ago, we introduced a few Minnows and Sticklebacks that we caught in a nearby stream. Within a very short time we had thousands of them. George is now convinced they have no place in a wildlife pond. Last year he saw them eating tadpoles. He is currently doing his best to capture them and return them to the stream. One of the photos shows a couple of fish traps he has purchased. I feel guilty because I think it was my suggestion to introduce the fish. Well, I thought they would be perfect in a wildlife pond. What a daft mistake. Lesson learned there. Seems odd, but fish have no place in a wildlife pond. I hope they have not caused too much devastation to the dragonfly eggs that I watched being laid last summer?

A pair of Mallards regularly drop in for a swim around. I have seen a Heron and once excitingly a Little Egret came for a look.

I will take more photos later in the year to show how abundantly the plants are growing around the pond edge.

A Good Walk.

Mia the German Shepherd and I took advantage of the Spring weather and had a lovely, long walk yesterday. It sure did me a lot of good and I know that Mia the GS enjoyed it too.

Just a short walk across the back field from here takes us to Marsh Farm. It is a lovely unspoilt place owned by a man who has a keen interest in wildlife. It is rare to ever encounter another soul on our walks here. It is like a step back in time.

The current owners father originally bought the farm with wildlife and conservation firmly in mind and it has not changed much since.

Marsh Farm was a regular haunt of The Bloomsbury Group. A collective of Artist's, poets and writers who were active in the early 20th century. Some of whom were very famous.

 Marsh Farm is well named. My new boots had a good try out and are definitely waterproof.

We are so lucky to have this place almost on our doorstep.

Water? What Was I Thinking?

I drew this glass of water but really should have made it a glass of whisky. Perhaps I will draw that tonight? A nice single malt would be nice.

I drew this as an exercise on a piece of wall lining paper. Buying a roll of lining paper is an awful lot cheaper than a drawing pad.. I am quite pleased with it but it isn't a good paper for detailed drawing. I maybe could have made it better with a finer paper? Also, it was drawn under electric light. Natural light would have given me more to work with.

Yellow Snow And Gloop.

Another lovely Spring day in my little homestead. The temperature got up to about 11 centigrade. If it had done it in fahrenheit I might have had a better idea of how warm it got. But it felt very pleasant in the sunshine. Here in the paddock we are protected from the wind by the hedgerows but once outside their protection the wind can still bite a bit. There is a yellow snow warning in force at the moment. The only time I have seen yellow snow before is when... oh better not go there. We have had several yellow snow warnings so far this year. As far as I can tell it means it isn't going to snow at all!

This afternoon I have been up to my neck in muck and bullets. Well, that's what it felt like. What happened was, Tricia asked me if I would investigate why the floor was flooding when she used the washing machine. The problem it turned out was the pipe that drained the water away was blocked solid. Years of accumulated goodness knows what were stuck in it. Gloop is a good word to describe it. I had to take floorboards up and dismantle pipes to sort it all out. I got it done but it took all afternoon. It didn't half stink too! For some reason Tricia and EHS George found my complaining about it hilariously amusing. I like the sense of acheivement - oh blimey i before e except after c and all that baloney - achievement when I can repair something and it doesn't cost money.

Nearly six in the evening and it is still light. I haven't lit the fire yet either. Soon be summer. Here is a picture of Mia the German Shepherd with the first blossom to appear every year in the paddock.

Mia the German Shepherd.

Thanks for dropping by.

The Wrong Day Of The Week.

A long time ago around about the middle of the last century to be inexact I was born. I know this to be true because by coincidence it also happened to be my Birthday. My mother was also there at the time and later in my life she was able to verify that this was indeed the case by sending cards every year wishing me a happy Birthday. Not always on a Wednesday though which was a bit odd because she did tell me I was born on a Wednesday. In fact, over the many years since that auspicious day I have received Birthday cards on every other day of the week.

A rather savage character assassination recently by people who do not actually know me but believe everything they read has brought on a bout of introspection. Wednesdays child it turns out is full of woe. Well, yes, I may on occasion be a bit woeful, but I have never considered myself full of it. Grumpy sometimes when I am overtired this is true. But mostly I think I am a happy, well-balanced individual who enjoys life.

Me being a grumpy old man.

I am oversensitive though. I recognise this in myself. I do tend to get upset by personal criticism. Luckily though I don’t tend to receive a lot of that. Though when I do I will react to it immediately. Negativity is something I try to avoid also. Negativity rears its head and I am out of there!

As you may have guessed, this little blogpost is just me writing the hurt out of myself. I know I am by no means perfect, but I have spoken to a few people today who know me well and they have made me feel good again. There is not much wrong with my character.

Full of woe? Not me. I looked up the childhood poem and what day of the week I was born on too. Mum was wrong. I was born on a Tuesday. See what Tuesday’s child is. That's me, that is.


Mondays child is fair of face,
Tuesdays child is full of grace,
Wednesdays child is full of woe,
Thursdays child has far to go,
Fridays child is loving and giving,
Saturdays child works hard for his living,
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.

A Short Refusal.

We have just had a few days of Spring-like weather which was very nice indeed. It didn’t last of course. Today it is raining again. I cannot see to the end of the back field because it is also misty. Damp and misty and wouldn’t you know it I am going on my first trip in the little campervan. Not leaving ‘til Monday so maybe the weather will decide it is Springtime again by then?
I was hoping to visit the croft in Scotland where I spent some time as a boy with my mum and stepdad. I wrote and asked first if the owners would mind me calling by for a brief visit and a stroll around the place. The answer came back quickly enough. It was, basically ‘no you can’t visit’.
This response did hurt. I wasn’t expecting a refusal. Why it really hurt though was the way the refusal was given. It was simply scrawled on the bottom of the letter I wrote them. No explanation was given.
The writer’s initials instead of a signature made me think. M.M. My stepdad Jimmy had a daughter. Her first name was Margaret and she married a man whose surname began with M. Then it dawned on me. Jimmy’s daughter was still living there. A very elderly woman by now of course, I could tell that just by the writing. She did not like my mum at all. She did not like that my mum got left money in Jimmy’s will. There was a legal battle over who got the house. I hadn’t even given that any thought at all. I just assumed that over the years the house had been sold and there would be new owners. But she didn’t have any reason to dislike me, after all I was only a child. I decided in the end that perhaps because she is a very elderly lady a visit would be too much for her, maybe open unhappy memories? She must be nearing a hundred years old if my reckoning is correct? So, that visit won’t be happening. There you are, that’s my mum still causing grief long after she has gone.

Looking at the last paragraph of my letter again perhaps I subconsciously knew it would not happen?

EHS George And His Little Red Van.

My extremely handsome son George has recently passed his driving test. Unlike other young men who pass their test he has not gone down the boy racer route. He has bought this (see photo) little red van. It previously belonged to Postman Pat apparently.
Having had a good look at my son’s new ish van and noting that there is room to comfortably fit a bed in the back of it, I have spent some time trying to persuade him to swap with my small Vauxhall Astra I am currently making into a campervan. He won’t have it though.
I told him how weird it is for a young man to buy a bright red post office van as his first vehicle, “How do you expect to pull a bird in that thing?” I asked him as part of my ploy to get him to swap vans.
“Dad,” he said, “You seem to be stuck in a time warp. Young women, or birds as you call them, usually have their own cars these days. They don’t need to get pulled, as you so crudely put it. Oh, and it is an ex Royal Mail van dad nothing to do with the post office.”
Well, I wasn’t having him lecture me. “Look here son,” I said to him, “There ain’t nothing crude about having a decent motor and pulling a bird with it. Let me tell you this,” I said, “if I hadn’t had a Mark 2 Jaguar I would never have pulled your mother and you my son would never have been born!”
I worry about that lad. He is far too modern in his outlook. I don’t know where he gets it from?

PS. Information for my American readers.
Postman Pat = A children's story about a mailman and his little red van.
Pull a bird = meet a young lady.