Again I want to start with a huge apology. I'm still not around much and I feel bad about that. There are big problems with the website project I'm working on, yet we are still careering towards a 'go-live' date of 23 November. I don't think we will make it and I hope good sense prevails and the powers that be understand that there's no point launching a site that isn't ready and that it would be better to hold off for a while until it is. It's all very frustrating and, worse still, keeping me from my friends! Please bear with me until things can get back to normal (though I'm beginning to wonder just what normal is these days!)

Anyway, on to the photos. I think I ought to give you a bit of background into what these are all about. In Somerset there is a tradition at this time of year. It brings a bit of colour and light into these early winter nights. The tradition is 'carnival'. It's not exactly Rio, or even Notting Hill, but it is the biggest and best of its kind in the world and it happens right here every year for free. These illuminated night-time parades traditionally co-incide with the season of Guy Fawkes and bonfires, fireworks and squibbing.

This wikipedia page explains it all much better than I ever could. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/West_Country_Carnival

Last Saturday was North Petherton Carnival, and as my favourite cousins were staying for the week-end I decided to take them along to see it. We had to arrive fairly early because all roads into the village close at just after five o'clock, though I was in the very lucky position of having a friend's drive to park in and, therefore, somewhere warm to stay until close to the time the parade began at seven. We walked to near the start of the parade route in time to get a good spot - for me that was somewhere with a bit of a bank behind so that I could get a little higher to take photos during the, almost, three hours of the procession.

The floats, known locally as carts, are often thirty metres long with thousands of light bulbs illuminating them. For that to happen they have to tow generators which are usually built into the design in some way. There is a lot of secrecy surrounding what theme each club is going to represent in the parade and these themes vary considerably. Big clubs with lots of money and expertise will have really grand, elaborate carts with moving parts and incredible artwork, others will do the best they can with the resources they have. Some will perform dance routines during the procession and others will be perfectly still in dramatic tableaux poses. All have wonderfully loud music. This year the themes were as varied as ever, wizards, pirates, ice queens, Robin Hood, highwaymen, comic interpretations of James Bond, local culture, Glastonbury Festival, and just about anything else you can think of. Perhaps I should let the pictures do the talking.
 

First of all, I want to apologise to everyone. I'm being a really bad friend at the moment, I'm neglecting you and I really don't mean to. I feel guilty for not posting and I feel especially guilty for not having even replied to all the comments you have made recently. Please forgive me.

The website project I'm working on at the moment has reached crunch point. There is loads of work and I am right in the thick of it. I have people submitting pages for approval and I have to go through them, check they have done all that has been asked of them and tidy them up ready for publishing. This would be fine if it's just a few but its hundreds of webpages, each with loads of information that can't be wrong. It's very time-consuming and can be frustrating too; frustrating at the moment because the system I'm using seems to have crashed and I can't get in. Whenever this happens it means that the work piles up with less time to do it in. Don't get me wrong, I'm enjoying the project and I know that everyone concerned will be really proud of their web pages when the site goes live (whenever that will be) but right now I just have to get on with it and it throws everything out when I can't get in there.

Anyway, I hope you can all forgive me for not being as attentive as I should be, or would like to be. I try to read your entries every day but just don't have the time to comment and reply in the way that I feel I should.

I can't believe that the photos I'm posting here now were taken over two weeks ago. As many of you already know, I recently volunteered on an archaeological dig. It was a fascinating experience and I learnt so much. It was good to get away from driving a computer for a few days and to concentrate on something totally different.

I'd better fill you in on some background first. The area I live in, Somerset, was, until the Middle Ages, largely bogs and swampland with small islands of firmer ground poking up through the wetlands. Many of Somerset's villages are built on these 'lost' islands and they would have been joined up by causeways and tracks. The village I live in is just like that, a hill with the church on the top and the village sprawling out beneath it like a ragged skirt.

The village of Muchelney, about 10 kilometres away to the south is pretty much the same. Muchelney means 'big island'. I was invited along to this dig having offered to help on any project quite a long time ago. We were digging in some trenches based on some spectacular geophysical survey information taken a year or so ago. It showed roadways and ditches, field boundaries and pits, small-holdings and undefined blobs in what is now an open field. I turned up really not knowing what to expect, what I would be allowed to do or even what historical time period we were going to be looking at. It turned out that the settlement was most likely Roman and this was borne out by the finds and discoveries we made.

It was hard work, it hadn't rained for several weeks and we were digging through hard-packed clay. This meant that, rather than very delicate activities, we had to resort to pick-axes and mattocks to get into the ground we were working on. I was given the job of working with an archaeologist to clear out a ditch, layer by layer until we reached the natural clay at the bottom of the cut. We recorded things as we went and found small bits of pottery, animal bone and lots of stones that didn't appear to belong where we found them. We were able to show that the ditch was probably originally dug as a stock fence and began to fill up with silt and other rubbish thrown in around 1800 years ago. This puts it smack in the middle of the Roman period in Britain and confirmed what was subsequently found elsewhere on the site.

My biggest thrill came when I uncovered a large piece of black burnished ware pottery, the rim of a vessel. It was a real thrill to uncover this object and it really set me thinking. It was such a 'human' thing. Sometime in the late first or early second centuries AD, someone in Dorset had dug the clay, someone had fashioned it into a large vessel standing about twenty centimetres tall with a bent over rim about fifteen centimetres across, smeared the outside with fine sand for grip, fired it, sold it. Someone had bought it, had used it to store food in or to cook food, others had eaten the meals prepared in it. Someone had broken it, either by accident or as a deliberate act of temper, and thrown it away in the old ditch at the bottom of the settlement. Then 1800 years later I had come along and dug it out of the ditch and wondered at it. I found that incredibly moving.

Anyway, I've droned on long enough. Pictures.
 

Following on from the jousting at Bishops Lydeard on Saturday, I also had a good time just wandering around taking in the sights, seeing who was around and what was going on. Most people weren't in costume but there was a good number that were and they added to the look and feel of the thing. Some were part of various groups putting on demonstrations about different aspects of Medieval life, cookery, chivalry, the use and making of weapons. Others were just dressed up to help get into the mood of the day.

As I wandered and looked, I took photos. I tried to be different and focussed on detail rather than the bigger picture and these are the photos I ended up with. I really hope you like them and sincerely hope they give a flavour of the day.
 

As nicked from the wonderful naurwen.

1. What time did you get up this morning?
About 6.45am.

2. How do you like your steak?
As a vegetarian I suppose my answer has to be, as far away as possible!

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
I genuinely don't remember, it was so long ago.

4. What is your favourite TV show?
There are a few and I don't know how universal they are but....
--'QI' - the finest panel game/quiz programme ever;
--'Mock the Week' - a close second - Frankie Boyle should have railings put round him and worshipped as a national treasure;
--'Black Books' - more please;
--'Bro'Town' - New Zealand's finest prime time cartoon series; 

5. If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be?
In a little crib on the shores of Lake Wanaka in Central Otago, New Zealand.

6. What did you have for breakfast?
Nothing - I'm a bad boy and don't do breakfast, I must try harder.

7. What is your favourite cuisine?
Difficult to pin it down and it very much depends on my mood but, Mexican, Italian, Indian, Chinese, and sometimes my personal combinations of any or all of them!

8. What foods do you dislike?
Milk, cream, butter, eggs, meat and fish (obviously) coriander and aubergine.

9. Favourite Place to Eat?
Again there are a few - Zizzi in either Taunton or Exeter, White House in Wanaka, Dux de Lux in Christchurch, Spice Club in Bridgwater, and I really must go back to Restaurant Hiltl in Zürich.

10. Favourite dressing?
Vinaigrette.

11.What kind of vehicle do you drive?
I have a Toyota Yaris (Echo for people south of the equator!)

12. What are your favourite clothes?
T-shirts and odd socks.

13. Where would you visit if you had the chance?
Everywhere I possibly could. I would like to go back to New Zealand, Saint Petersburg, Ireland, Scotland, Switzerland, but would love to visit and discover Canada, Australia, Iceland, Greenland, Finland, Cook Islands, Samoa.....

14. Cup 1/2 empty or 1/2 full?
Almost always half full.

15. Where would you want to retire?
See my answer to question 5.

16. Favourite time of day?
Early morning on a Saturday or a Sunday. There is something great about being up early when you don't have to be and being places when there's no-one else around. 

17. Where were you born?
I was born in Castle Street, Bridgwater, Somerset, UK.

18. What is your favourite sport to watch?
Cricket.

19. Who do you think will not tag you back?
I'm not tagging anyone, so.....

20. Person you expect to tag you back first?
I'm not tagging anyone, so.....

21. Who are you most curious about their responses to this?
I'm not tagging anyone, so.....

22. Bird watcher?
If this means, do I enjoy seeing birds in the wild, then the answer is yes. If it means do I go out with binoculars, camouflaged clothing and a notebook, the answer is no!

23. Are you a morning person or a night person?
A morning person, I wilt in the evenings.

24. Do you have any pets?
Not now, Buster died a few weeks ago.

25. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share?
Yes, in a couple of weeks' time I will be volunteering on an archaeological dig and I'm really looking forward to it.

26. What did you want to be when you were little?
Larger, and now I am.

27. What is your best childhood memory?
I think my best childhood memories are of visiting beaches and remote places, moorlands and rivers and generally being in the great outdoors. My worst childhood memories seem to be of the car journeys it took to get to those places.

28. Are you a cat or dog person?
Cat person.

29. Are you married?
No.

30. Always wear your seat belt?
Yes, always - it would be stupid beyond belief not to.

31. Been in a car accident?
Yes.

32. Any pet peeves?
Bad manners, ignorance, arrogance and a lack of thought for others.

33. Favourite Pizza Toppings?
I like it simple, so it would be a margarita topping with extra basil.

34. Favourite Flower?
Again, I like it simple, so it would be the flowers on a phormium. Though I do like the architectural quality of allium flowers too.

35. Favorite ice cream?
Mango sorbet - I don't do ice cream.

36. Favourite fast food restaurant?
I don't understand the concept, food is to be savoured and enjoyed and it's preparation is meant to be done with love and care - fast food has no soul, no quality and no redeeming features.

37. How many times did you fail your driver's test?
None, passed first time after only three lessons. (*smug face*)

38. From whom did you get your last email?
At work, from one of the sensory loss social workers asking whether I'm still me - don't ask!

39. Which store would you choose to max out your credit card?
I don't have a credit card but if I did it would be amazon, where you can get just about anything you want.

40. Do anything spontaneous lately?
Not desperately!

41. Like your job?
On the whole, yes. It can be a bit frustrating at times, but that's just sometimes.

42. Broccoli?
Yes, but prefer cauliflower!

43. What was your favourite vacation?
Four and a half months travelling and writing in New Zealand has to be the best, but last year's trip to Saint Petersburg was immensely fulfilling for me in lots of ways.

44. Last person you went out to dinner with?
Hannah - wonderful place, wonderful company - what more could I ask for?

45. What are you listening to right now?
The fan on my computer and a guy behind me on the phone.

46. What is your favourite colour?
Black, and sometimes red, and sometimes yellow. I tend to prefer bold colours to muted ones.

47. How many tattoos do you have?
None, though I should have got a small Maori one when I was in New Zealand last, but chickened out.

48. How many are you tagging for this quiz?
No-one, but all are welcome to give it a go.

49. What time did you finish this quiz?
13.30.

50. Coffee Drinker?
Oh yes!

Last Sunday evening I had my annual dose of classical culture. I went to the Glastonbury Abbey Extravaganza. It is held every year in the wonderful setting of the grounds of Glastonbury Abbey. It's great because the people who go do so in a very British way; they take tables and chairs, food and drink and turn it into an enormous picnic with thousands of people taking part all at the same time.

In the past I've seen artists like Jools Holland, Van Morrison, Corinne Bailey-Rae and others there. Apart from the rock and pop acts, there is also an evening each year set aside for Classical music. This evening usually features the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, and this year was no exception. A couple of years ago they did a, kind of, Tchaikovsky's Greatest Hits. This year it was just a general programme of popular classics, ending with a firework display.

To get things rolling the evening started with one of the best string quartets in the world, the Corelli Quartet. They were still rehearsing when I got there so I managed to get a few informal photos.

One surprise was that I was not alone in my cultural experience. There was a very famous face in the crowd: one that I would really have never expected. Of course, I took photos, so see if you recognise the unexpected punter. Even though you, my dear readers, are from all over the world, I'm sure you will have no problem identifying him in his green jacket. 
 

A couple of weeks ago, in a Nursing Home in Wells, not far from where I live, a famous man died. He wasn't an extraordinary man in most respects but he was respected and honoured and admired and cared about, not just by the community he lived in, not just in the region he came from, and probably not even just in his own country.

His name was Harry Patch and he was 111 years old when he died. Of course, that age is remarkable in itself. Reaching that age makes anyone a survivor in the truest sense of the word. And Harry was a survivor. He outlived his sons, his wives and the rest of his generation. He outlived most of the people he had ever known.

The reason that Harry had become famous was partly because of his great age but it was really tied to one fact, one small part of his life that changed his world forever. Harry was conscripted as an infantry man in the First World War. Harry fought in the trenches at Ypres and Passchendaele. He was, or rather had become, the last survivor of that terrible, inhuman, wasteful, pointless campaign. He was the last fighting Tommy.

He was wounded and invalided out of the war, and went back to his life as a plumber in Somerset. He didn't discuss his wartime experiences with his family and friends.

When he reached the age of 100, he suddenly started to talk about it, to rail against the inhumanity and stupidity of war, to tell the present and future generations to sort out their problems in a civilised manner; not to take their young people down the roads that he had been marched down. He became famous, received hundreds of letters every day, received visits from the great and good, had poems and songs and books written about him.

Harry became a star. He came over as a kind, quiet, thoughtful and wise man. He had a great sense of humour. I fear he will be remembered for being the last survivor of that tragedy, yet it represented only a few months of a long and remarkable life.

Yesterday thousands of people lined the streets of the small city of Wells as his body was taken to the cathedral for his funeral service. I don't think he would have liked all the ceremony and fuss, but he knew it would have to be that way. The service was broadcast across the world and Harry's words and message were told to the world one more time. He was just an ordinary west country man who happened to live a long time and to become unique because of it. But ordinary people can be great people too and Harry was great, most of all because he was ordinary.

Under the cut, if I've managed to get it to work right, are a few photos I took a couple of weeks ago of poppies in a corn field near my home. We don't see them very much these days but when someone ploughs a little deeper than normal, up they come. I thought this was an appropriate place and time to post them. The poppy has become the symbol of Harry's terrible war because it was the first flower to blossom on those bloodstained fields after the guns fell silent. 
 

This is me, just dropping in to say that I miss you all and I can't wait to get back to being here full time. I try to read my friends page each morning as soon as I get into the office and then try to catch up a bit later but it's not as easy as it should be.

I also have some sad news.

Buster died at the end of last week. He was almost fifteen years old, had had a heart condition for a long time and more recently had problems with his kidneys. The long and the short of it is that the vets hoped that one last fix was possible, which involved an operation, but he didn't make it. He was very affectionate, more so as he got older, and had a wonderful character. He was a good chap. Most of all, he was my friend and I will miss him. That may not be much of an epitaph, but it means a lot to me.

Take care everyone.

 

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First of all, I'm really sorry that I haven't been posting much here for a long time. As I said the last time I made an entry, I'm really busy at the moment with the web project I'm working on and I'm finding it difficult to do anything other than work while I'm at work! Then, because I spend my day sitting in front of a computer, the last thing I want to do when I get home is sit in front of a computer. I will try harder, I promise. I have some photos that I've taken over the last few weeks that I'd like to share, but I haven't even managed to sort them out yet. When I do, you will get to see them. There's surfing at Woolacombe on the North Devon coast, a cornfield full of poppies, Watchet Harbour in Somerset and the nearby Bossington beach. If that whets your appetite, please stay tuned. 

On top of that I seem to have become a carer for my parents. In the past couple of weeks my mother has come out of hospital having had a new hip replacement and my father has also just come out of hospital having had a total knee replacement. Having both of them laid up at home on sticks and crutches means that not much of my free time is my own anymore. I'm not complaining and I know that the situation will improve as they continue to recover but right now I seem to be their transport, household help, gardener and carer. As far as I can tell they are recovering well. Their respective health professionals seem pleased with their progress. The operations they have been through recently are pretty routine these days and time will make everything normal again.

As part of my day job I produce information for people who care for others. I list all the help they can get and where they can get it from. I write advice about services that are available to them and what they should do in a crisis. It now feels quite ironic to me that I seem to be in need of my own advice. It certainly makes me realise that caring for someone else is a very hard thing to do and takes a lot of patience and energy, commitment and inner strength. It gives me a whole new perspective on the work I do and the information I help the services provide. Interesting. I have the utmost respect for the millions of people who do this all the time, year in, year out. 

I'm sorry there are no pictures today and I'm also sorry that this isn't a light-hearted entry full of my views of the absurd aspects of life. Normal service will be resumed, I promise, but it might just take a few weeks. In the meantime, I'm tired and okay and doing my best. I hope to get out and about on Saturday with my camera, though I don't have any ideas about where to go. If there's anywhere I've been or places you'd like more of, please let me know and I might just be able to go back there.

Toodle pip.
 

And this was only the beginning.