Lucky is the guy who really runs the place where I’m staying. “He doesn’t like strangers”, I’ve been told. This seems to be true. Steadfastly, he continues to show his disdain for me. Even rubbing up against car exhaust pipes seems to be preferable. I feel suitably rejected.
Whatever the wind farm on Deadwood Plain is doing to help St Helena generate power in a sustainable way, this particular turbine ain’t contributing. The cows seem stoic about the situation, though, as cows so often do. I passed on my way up Flagstaff Peak behind, at 2,257 feet above sea level. A century and a quarter ago, this place would have been crowded with tents and huts — it was a prison camp for those captured in the Boer War (fought so the British state could get its hands on gold and diamonds, before anyone tells you it had worthier motives).
Mynah birds are everywhere on St Helena, and considered something of a pest by the locals, though I have to say I quite like them, they are handsome creatures I think. Two of them were the subject of the photo taken on my first full day here, in quarantine, back in November 2021 and it’s time one made a reappearance. This is the 60th shot taken on the island, and considered as a country, it thus draws level with Russia on the stats, ready to overtake it tomorrow and become the 5th most depicted one on here (after England, Australia, Scotland and Norway). And I doubt I’ll be going back to Russia any time soon — but there is more to be seen of St Helena yet.
Another movie reference, courtesy of the exhibition currently running at the Design Museum in London, featuring a range of drawings, models, photos and other artefacts that have poured out of the head of director Tim Burton over the last 50 years or so. Two things are apparent; 1) the guy can have done very little in his life other than pour out this endless stream of creative work, more or less constantly; 2) there is some seriously weird shit going on inside that head. Worth seeing though.
An early post today as I now sit at Heathrow Airport waiting for an overnight flight. Unless something goes seriously wrong, the next three weeks of posts will all be coming from places a damn sight warmer than this one.
I cannot think of any comment other than: How cute. And all with a burst of golden sunlight in the background, and there really hasn’t been a great deal of that in December (though in this country, there never is).
Really, not an exciting Christmas Day, but are they ever, these days? A pleasant one though, and mild, so Clare and Joe were dragged out on the usual pre-consumption walk, where was captured this piece of hogweed in front of the pine (Christmas) trees, simply because I like the shape it makes. A natural candelabrum, maybe.
Anyway — a happy Christmas to you all, I hope you enjoyed the day, however it was spent.
No Christmas break in sight for the herons, who still have to fish, and thereby eat. This one, rightfully, looks with some disdain at the litter that has been chucked in the Hebden Water next to its usual spot at the weir. Bloody humans, leaving their crap all over the place. And it’ll be there for weeks, I bet.
These are the steps leading down past our allotment, which is on the right, behind the hedge. This porcelain figurine took up residence there a few months ago, thanks to persons unknown, and now seems quite at home. I’m saying it’s Beatrix Potter’s Mrs. Tiggywinkle, but C says: “that’s not a hedgehog, it’s a cat. Or a bear.” Well, whatever: none of these species wear clothes and carry around watering cans, but that’s anthropormorphism for you I suppose.
Doves have been a religious symbol for thousands of years: Christianity just adopted a tradition that had begun in Mesopotamia (according to Wikipedia, which of course is right about everything). If you ask me, though, this one has the evil eye; zoom in a bit and you’ll see what I mean.
These various beetroot all came out of the ground within a couple of feet of each other. I’m sure they were all from the same pack of seeds…. I like the diversity of colour, also that this shot does imply they had all been in the ground ten minutes before it was taken: which was, more or less, the case. I think some pickling is in order.
Being 42 