Fine days

Spring so far has been exceptionally dry, with plenty of sunshine, though I'm finding the wind very cold. It's that time of year when I still tend to be wrapped up in a warm coat, gloves, even a hat sometimes - and note that I'm walking behind a young guy or girl who's in shorts and a t-shirt! 

I had a long walk on Saturday so Sunday needed to be a short one: my usual stroll down to the canal, park  and back. I think I'm reasonably fit but some days it feels like I'm walking through treacle and other days walking's a breeze. I can never quite predict how it's going to be. I guess I just have to accept it. 

Saltaire and the park were full of folks enjoying the sunshine. I've photographed these same scenes countless times. It's kind of reassuring in these turbulent times that life goes on, the seasons come and go, people still enjoy simple pleasures. Timeless. 

The end of the day

I'm still loving the sunsets I can see from my apartment windows now. Blue sky with little cloud all day slipped into a glorious dark blue fading to deep amber, all nicely graduated. It wasn't one of the spectacular sunsets we sometimes get when there's a bit of cloud but it felt very peaceful. The joy is that every sunset is different and so fleeting too; a precious little gift at the end of the day. 

'The heavens declare the glory of God;
The skies proclaim the work of His hands.'  Psalm 19: 1

Extraordinary Portraits

As part of Bradford's City of Culture 2025 events, in a pop-up gallery in the city centre, there has been an exhibition of the portraits from Series 4 of the BBC TV programme 'Bill Bailey's Extraordinary Portraits'. He invites different artists to make portraits of ordinary - and yet extraordinary - people. It makes for heart-warming viewing, unfolding the stories of both subject and artist, and their relationship, in a unique way. 

The exhibition was only on for a very limited time. When I arrived I had to queue for over half an hour even to get in.  I think the entire local population of 50-80 year olds was there!  

Once inside, you even had to queue around the gallery to see the paintings... whoever heard of that? I know we Brits like orderly queues but I felt that was going a bit too far. 

It was, however, well worth seeing, especially if you've had chance to watch the related episodes of the programme. 

My favourite portrait was the first one I've shown, the portrait of Millie by artist Karen Turner. Millie is a young woman with Down Syndrome. She's an actor, activist and influencer, with a huge amount of energy, enthusiasm, joy and love very apparent in her dealings with the world. I thought the portrait captured that very well, the wide canvas and her outstretched arms giving a clear sense of her joyful love of life. 

Equally enthralling was Marva and Lionel, painted by Chloe Cox. The couple were foster-carers for thirty years, welcoming over 200 teenagers into their home, in some cases for a brief stay, the longest for eleven years. They're retired now but many of their 'sons and daughters' still visit them regularly. The empathic portrait captures their devotion as a couple, and the peace and love they exude. Chloe is a self-taught painter of Caribbean heritage. She was commissioned by the King himself to make a portrait of Alford Gardner to commemorate the 75th anniversary of the arrival of HMT Empire Windrush. (See HERE) 

The portrait of Gill, a pioneer in women's football, was painted (appropriately enough) by ex-England goalkeeper David James. (I didn't even know he is now an artist.) Gill played, aged 14, in the England team for the Women's World Cup, Copa 71, in Mexico, at a time when women's football was banned by the FA. She later became a founder member of Arsenal's women's team. David chose to portray her surrounded by mementoes from her career, as a way of underlining how important football is to Gill, and Gill has been to women's football. It's thanks to women like her that the sport is finally attracting a large audience and there is a path for girls to follow as players. 

Clare, below, was drawn in charcoal by Oriane Pierrepoint. Clare was diagnosed with incurable cancer in her twenties. Finding there was little help for people of her own age with cancer, she started a charity, to raise money and support other people in a similar situation. She came across as brave, determined and optimistic, as well as remarkably peaceful and accepting in her approach to life. I think the drawing captures her well. 

Lastly, the bronze sculpture of Christian was created by Hywel Pratley, a celebrated sculptor whose most famous work is a statue of Queen Elizabeth II, unveiled in 2024 in Rutland. His subject is an ex-paratrooper, who, struggling to adapt to civilian life, walked 19000 miles round the entire coastline of the UK, raising half a million pounds for veterans' charities along the way. He returned changed and much more at peace, having acquired a partner and a baby son along the way! He's depicted with his faithful rescue dog, Jet, who sadly lost her life last year but whom Chris credits as being a fundamentally important companion along the walk.  

(There was one more portrait that I didn't manage to photograph because of the crush of people around it.)

Scenic Silsden

The small town of Silsden holds plenty of interest for the flâneur, such as I was that day. The photo above shows the little tunnel, now solely for pedestrian use, that passes under the Leeds-Liverpool Canal and connects the estates south of the town with the centre. I suppose technically the bridge is a mini-aqueduct. 

Climbing the steps to the right brought me up onto the canal towpath, right in front of this old mill, Waterloo Mill, still in use. It is listed as the base for Snugpak, a company that makes outdoor clothing and camping gear. Silsden was once a centre of specialist nail-making: nails for joinery, horseshoes, boots and clogs. It's on this stretch of canal that the Silsden Hire Boat company moors its narrowboats over winter.  

Walking eastwards, the canal winds through housing - rather nice housing at that, with gardens sloping down to the water.  It must feel better to live on a canal than a river, I always think. As well as the passing boat traffic adding interest, it's much less likely to flood. 

After half a mile or so, you leave the town behind and enter a more rural area, with farmers' fields on either side. It was a lovely spring day and I was tempted to walk further but I turned off at the swing bridge and followed the lane north, back into Silsden. As it was, my various ramblings - around Silsden, to the rail station and then to and from home at the other end - netted me over six miles that day! 

 

Such a variety of life

On my Silsden wanderings, I came across quite a variety of interesting creatures. I had my first encounter this year with a spring lamb, not such a baby either, as he was eating grass, not just suckling milk. 

Then I found a pretty tabby cat, who was very keen for strokes and neck scritches. Such soft fur! 

Along the canal, I discovered these two very attractive ducks. At first I thought they must be some kind of melanistic mallards. They had the mallards' characteristic curly tail feathers but black feathers, beautifully catching the light and glowing with iridescent green, turquoise and purple. A Google search has turned up an American domestic breed of duck called Cayuga, which pretty much matches these. I've never seen them before but they were really a 'wow' moment. Not a great photo as I only had my phone, and a photo can't capture the way their feathers' sheen changed as they swam around in the sunlight. 

Another unusual bird to encounter was this guinea fowl - unusual, at least, to find one rooting around a grass verge on the edge of a suburban housing estate! 

16 thousand steps around Silsden

I had a bit of a mad day recently, having to take my car for its annual service and MOT. My garage is in Silsden, about a half hour drive from home. I got there fairly early and dropped the car off. Then went home again on the train... but the nearest rail station is a half hour walk from the garage. It's not an unpleasant walk, though the roads are busy. There's a lovely view along the River Aire, which here meanders lazily through a flood plain. It was a still day and the reflections in the water were lovely. Green shoots on the shrubs show that spring is here, though it was a cold day despite the sunshine. 

The view in the opposite direction isn't so lovely. Silsden has very recently been augmented by several massive new housing estates. This one is not only situated right in the flood plain, which doesn't seem very sensible, but also typifies those mass-produced little boxes that the large developers seem to like building. They are ostensibly 'detached houses' but there is barely room to thread a sheet of paper between them. I do wonder why they didn't just build a terraced row! 

Anyhow, later in the afternoon I set off back to collect the car, again using the train, but I was early so I had a walk around Silsden too. Then they informed me the car needed more work and they wanted to keep it overnight... so, I had another trudge back to the railway station. 16461 steps in total, that's just over 6 miles according to my phone app.  Good for my fitness anyway! 

Elizabeth Fritsch CBE

I was absolutely thrilled to discover a major exhibition at The Hepworth by one of Britain's most prominent ceramic artists, Elizabeth Fritsch (b 1940). I've seen just one of her pieces before (HERE) and really liked it.  

'Otherworldly Vessels' brings together over 100 pieces from her private collection, spanning the 1970s to 2013.  Originally trained as a musician, there are influences from jazz and classical music, architecture and surrealism evident in her artworks. 

She uses very matte glazes and colourful geometric patterns. Many of her works are visually teasing. (For that reason, I thought this post a suitable one for April Fool's Day!) You can see that they are solid, three dimensional (3D) objects and yet at the same time they look almost flattened and two dimensional (2D), due to the way she shapes and decorates them. Very fascinating. 

Exhibitions galore

At the moment there are several intriguing exhibitions running concurrently at The Hepworth. One is 'Forbidden Territories: 100 Years of Surreal Landscapes'. I'm not generally a huge fan of surrealism but a couple of the works stood out for me, mainly because of the wonderful colours. Nicolas Party's 'Landscape 2022', soft pastel on linen (above), sings with stunningly rich colour. 

I also loved the way Max Ernst's darkly ominous painting:  'Cage, Forest and Black Sun' (1927) was displayed against another bright pastel by Nicolas Party. A very interesting juxtaposition. In fact, the whole staging of this exhibition is incredible. 

There were some rather lovely ceramics: Yellow Undulating Angular Bowl (2022) by Ashraf Hanna looked for all the world like a soft felt creation, very clever:

Ursula Morley-Price's 'Winged Vessel' (1985) was just delightful. The artist was actually born in 1936 but the Hepworth's label said 'born 1986', which would make this the most amazing creation by any foetus in existence! 

Finally, a Manchester-based artist, Louise Giovanelli (b 1993), has an exhibition titled 'A Song Of Ascents', with some large-scale, shimmering works - curtains (as found in working men's clubs and theatres across the UK), locks of lustrous hair and the reflective surface of glassware. Not sure I really warmed to these but they were certainly eye-catching. I did enjoy the way they were reflected in the polished concrete floor. 

To The Hepworth (again)

I rarely turn down a chance to visit The Hepworth (gallery) in Wakefield, so when a friend suggested going to the Print Fair there, I happily accepted. You may think I'm doing a lot of exhibitions and galleries lately. It's partly because there are currently a lot to see (Bradford being the UK City of Culture 2025) and partly because it's been so cold and dull that I haven't felt much like venturing out on country walks. 

It was cold and dull in Wakefield too but, with little wind, the River Calder, which loops around the gallery, had some good reflections. I always enjoy the random messiness of the old boatyard you can see from the footbridge leading to the gallery.

The random messiness of the winter-slumbering garden behind The Hepworth was also rather pleasing. The grasses and ornamental seed heads complement the sculptural artworks displayed there. 

On the far side of the garden, Tileyard North, a converted mill, hosted the Print Fair, with some well-known local artists displaying work. You can often pick up a good bargain in artwork at such events. I was tempted by this one HERE, "The first warm day of the year". It's by Eva Juusola, a printmaker based in Sheffield. I guess it reminded me of the way my grandgirls sit, drawing, chatting, reading.  Very tempting but I resisted, then I couldn't stop thinking about it afterwards... so I've ordered it from the artist's website. A treat!

GR

Our 'Royal Mail' postal service goes all the way back to 1516, when Henry VIII established a 'Master of the Posts'. The Royal Mail service was thrown open for the public to use (those who could afford it!) by 1635. The first mail coach ran in 1784 between London and Bristol. The first pre-paid adhesive postage stamp - the Penny Black - came in 1840. The first pillar boxes were installed across the country in 1853, bearing the royal cipher of the monarch at the time. It was always a public service, a government department until 1969 when it became a statutory corporation: The Post Office. Since then, various bits of the business have been hived off and privatised. It is required by law to provide 'a universal service' whereby items of a specific size can be posted for a set fee to any location within the UK, six days a week, but even that is these days under threat. Email and competition from private companies means the volume of post is diminishing whilst the cost to the user has risen astronomically. A standard First Class letter will soon cost £1.70 to send and a Second Class stamp will be 87p. 'Large' letters (not that big!) will be £3.15 or £1.55. 

I wonder for how much longer we'll be able to pop a birthday card in a post box at the end of the street and know it will be delivered safely, on time and direct to its intended recipient's address? There is talk of restricting deliveries, stopping Saturday mail deliveries, delivering second class letters on alternate days and all manner of other tweaks to try and reduce the business's costs. I note that my own mail often seems 'batched'. I'll get several items all in the same delivery and then none for days. 

It's a sad thought that people won't have letters to pass down in the family... no more piles of paper tied with ribbon, to delight a biographer or genealogist. Also a sad thought that our cheery red post boxes might be a dying breed. I'm not sure I've ever consciously noticed one like that in my photo before. Its very plain GR cypher denotes that it was installed in the time of King George V, between 1910 and 1936. I spotted it in Crossflatts. I guess postboxes are a way of dating the housing developments that they're found in too, so they have a certain value beyond their primary purpose. 

Sunday on the canal

It was a chilly Sunday, with intermittent light showers, but the birds and boaters seemed to have decided that spring was in the air. Over winter you don't see that many boats on the move on the canal but on my Sunday walk I was passed by half a dozen craft of various types and sizes. The guys on the Silsden hire boat above were amused to be having their photo taken and responded with some friendly banter, always nice. 

I've seen this boat moored in Skipton quite a few times. It has a memorable name: Pink Bitz. There was a young couple aboard - and bikes too, essential for getting around once the boat is moored up. 

Three young swans were quite curious about passers-by. Maybe they hoped for food. They looked like last year's cygnets, still with pale beaks and slightly mottled plumage. It was at about this point too that I was thrilled to see a tiny wren darting about. They are quite secretive little birds but very sweet, with their upturned tails. 

This stretch going into Riddlesden has some rather nice canalside houses, with pretty gardens. A few blossom trees are just beginning to show colour.  

A slow start to spring

A calm pond reflecting a string of lights along the entrance path, and a weeping willow coming into bud - a warm welcome to East Riddlesden Hall, our nearest National Trust property. Small and intimate compared to most National Trust estates, but nevertheless loved and cherished by local people. 

Its gardens showed that spring is on the way, though it seems a slow start this year as it has been quite cold. A sweep of naturalised daffodils looked really pretty on the grass between the Hall and the tithe barn. 

In the more formal gardens behind the Hall, bright blue scilla counterpointed the white hellebores. A flowering quince was just starting to blossom. It will have fruit in the autumn: tart yellow quinces shaped a bit like pears. They're not usually eaten raw but can be made into jam or jelly.  

Incidentally, this is the first successful 'macro' shot I've taken with my new camera. I actually managed to focus this one.  Progress...☺

 

Early music at East Riddlesden Hall

One Sunday recently, I decided to walk along the Leeds-Liverpool Canal towpath to East Riddlesden Hall, our local National Trust property. It's a 17th century manor house, extended and remodelled on the site of an earlier house by a wealthy wool merchant, James Murgatroyd, in the mid-1600s. In the 19th/early 20th century it fell into disrepair and the Starkie wing (below) was almost entirely demolished, leaving only the façade. The hall (though sadly not much of its estate and related buildings) was eventually rescued by far-sighted locals, the Brigg brothers, before being donated to the National Trust in 1938.  

My visit coincided with a performance by a local early music group, Dulciana. They were playing traditional 16th century music on a variety of authentic instruments including recorders, crumhorns, shawms, chalumeau and flutes. I enjoyed listening to them. The instruments take a lot of skill - and breath control - to master, but the resulting music was lyrical and soothing, occasionally breaking into what I imagined was music to accompany those stately court dances. It was a reminder of how music would have been a shared pastime for families around the fireplace in times gone by.

The instruments above are gemshorns, made from the horns of cows or goats. Below, the lady is playing a small wooden crumhorn. I always find it heartwarming when people, passionate about a hobby, are willing to share their enthusiasm and skills with others. It was most enjoyable to listen and learn. 

If you'd like to hear a crumhorn playing, try this video. It's a delight: