Four days in North Yorkshire

If you want to learn a little Yorkshire dialect, here’s your chance! You never know when it may come in handy. Apart from that there is a very interesting bit of history too.

Broadsides - A collection of bits and pieces

boars head Entrance to the Boar’s Head public house and country hotel, Ripley, North Yorkshire

You can catch a bus to Ripley, from Leeds Bus station. Number 36.  It takes you all across the dales to North Yorkshire and drops you off right outside the Boars Head in Ripley, which was where I was staying for a four-day Yorkshire Break.  Ripley is one of those handsome stone built Yorkshire villages set in rolling dales, which round there are steeped in the blood and the history of religious and civil wars.   Not too far away was Marston Moor where Oliver Cromwell destroyed the Northern army of Charles the 1st.    And at Ripley castle, on the edge of the village, lived the Ingleby’s, heavily related to and implicated with those involved in the 1605 Guy Fawkes gunpowder conspiracy to blow up the Houses of Parliament.  There’s some good people round here!

The…

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Camping In Maine — Weird Guy With The Dog

It’s 4pm and I’m set up at my campsite in an area of Maine called the KI Jo-Mary Multiple Use Forest. This is a large section of private land in northern Maine that allows anyone to camp, hike or hunt (during season) for a small use fee. There are dozens of campsites set up with…

via Camping In Maine — Weird Guy With The Dog

Twittering Tales #101 – 11 September 2018

It’s time again for Kat Myrman’s wonderful challenge to tax our creative souls. Just take her photo prompt and write a story, inspired by it, in 280 characters or fewer.

img_2926.jpg

Here is this week’s prompt and my contribution. Check out all the fabulous entries here.

I could always recognise her by the tattoo on her arm, a beautiful rose, and by her shiny black hair.
I always greeted her with a cheery “hello”.
I longed to see her face, but she always seemed to hide behind a pile of books.
I determined to peek behind those books.

I wish I hadn’t!

(279 characters)

Twittering Tale #99 – 28 August 2018

It’s time again for Kat Myrman’s wonderful challenge to tax our creative souls. Just take her photo prompt and write a story, inspired by it, in 280 characters or fewer.

horses-1759214_1280.jpg
Prompt photo by Conquero at Pixabay.com

Here is this week’s prompt and my contribution. Check out all the fabulous entries here.

The hunt

I really think I’ve cracked it now.

Even though I say so myself, the form of the horses is quite superb.
My painting is almost like a photograph.
I’m really pleased with the result!

It’s such a pity that I can’t paint human figures, or dogs, or saddles, reins, or stirrups.

Tally Ho!

(280 characters)

Twittering Tales #93 – The Phone – 17 July 2018

It’s time again for Kat Myrman’s wonderful challenge to tax our creative souls. Just take her photo prompt and write a story, inspired by it, in 280 characters or fewer.

phone-1597071_1280.jpgPhoto by MabelAmber at Pixabay.com

Here is this week’s prompt and my contribution. Check out all the fabulous entries here.

The phone stood by the stream, at the edge of the wild flower meadow.
It buzzed loudly nearly every time I passed by.
Being community spirited, I always picked up the handset and said “hello?”
No-one ever answered!
Inside, The Queen and her workers were obliviously, busily buzzing!

(278 characters)

Song Lyric Sunday Theme for 15/07/2018

img_1345-3Helen’s theme this week is “Break“.

Wouldn’t we all like a break? Don’t we all deserve a break? We may, perhaps, want to break someone’s neck, or head, or face!

These are certainly times that bring out the worst in lots of us so I’ve found a nice thing that is broken. Not only has it broken, but it is lovely, and it breaks every single day.

The lyrics are on screen.

This is a montage of beautiful cats, kittens and blackbirds set to the song, “Morning Has Broken” by Cat Stevens.  What’s not to like?

Flower Power, or a wandering mind!

I wandered lonely as a cloud,

but hang on mate, is that allowed?

I’m sure that’s one too many thrills.

We’re talking golden daffodils!

 

A crowd beside a lake, and trees,

all smoking pot and popping e’s;

The waves beside them danced with glee

and drowned the boss’s effigy.

 

A poet, gay, or maybe straight,

whilst passing through the garden gate,

reclined on couch, in pensive mood,

and all his friends thought him most rude.

 

But now his heart o’erflowed with pleasure,

displayed his love and took his measure,

and, as he rose above the crest,

declared those daffodils the best!

 

With more than a little nod towards:

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

 

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
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