19 September 2022

The day of the Queen's funeral. In memoriam

HM Queen Elizabeth II

1926 - 2022

‘God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea.' (Psalm 46)

'If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.' (Psalm 139)

'For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.' (Romans 8) 

The last rose

Even the roses, which have an amazingly long 'shelf life' over the summer and continue to bloom relatively late in the year, are beginning to fade as autumn approaches. They seem to have gone out of fashion to an extent these days. I seem to see fewer in gardens than when I was younger, which is a pity as I really like them. There are always some beautiful flowers along the side of Victoria Road as you walk down towards Salts Mill, and I like to see them with the mill as a backdrop. I thought this one a particularly pretty cultivar, with its pink petals a dark blush on the outside, fading to the palest shell pink in the centre. A little hoverfly was just nipping in there to explore! Pale pink roses always take me back to my family home. We had a long driveway and our neighbours planted a hedge of pink roses along the boundary. They were magnificent and provided my sister and I with lots of pink petals from which to make 'magical potions'! I seem to remember they were named after Princess Margaret, the late Queen's younger sister. Funny what details stick in a child's memory...

Serenity

Saltaire's vibrant and creative community means that people make the most of any space, either to create a little bit of beauty or to make a statement, one way or another. One house, without much of a garden, has nevertheless placed plants (fake) and various little statues in all the available space, including on a windowsill. I'm quite happy to see a serene and peaceful Buddha as I pass by, and the yellow flowers are quite uplifting too. 

In lock step

I spotted these two narrowboats double moored on the canal below Hirst Lock. They've been there a while now, as has the one a little further along. They appear to be 'twins', with a similar livery and shape and one of them appears to have a cargo hold, covered with tarp rather than a hard roof. One of them has the name 'Aqua Vitae Leaded Light Co' painted on it, though I can't find any reference to it on Google. Even if they are working boats, they are still subject to the same restrictions on movement that the Canal and River Trust have imposed on the Leeds-Liverpool Canal as a result of the severe water shortage the drought has caused. They could be enjoying the delights of Saltaire for a lot longer! 

The third boat had its own lawn - fake grass though! I'm always fascinated that no two boats are quite alike (even the 'twins' above) and they are personalised in all sorts of ways. 

 

At the lock itself, the gates are padlocked so the lock can't be used. There were some clouds but no rain (though there have been some showers in the last week or two). 

Stressed

I reckon our woodlands are quite dangerous places to be just lately. Walking through Hirst Woods I noticed how many fallen boughs there are - and then came across this enormous shard of beech tree, newly fallen across the main path. It appears that the tree had started to rot quite high up the trunk, as you can see from the black mess in the photo below. Presumably the weight of leaves and branches became too great for a tree stressed by drought and rot. Whatever the reason, literally half of the tree has come crashing down - trunk, branches and leaves - leaving a long scar where wood has peeled away from the trunk below the rotten area. It looked very dramatic and it's perhaps fortunate that nobody, apparently, was walking beneath it at the time. 

'If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?'

Well, I still don't know the answer to this question! 

A reminder, too, that I am also posting - not every day but fairly often - on my other blog HERE, which is a bit more personal, reflective and whimsical than this one. I've turned off comments on that one, because of its more personal nature but you're welcome to read and 'follow' it. 

Bodies!

Another film crew has been busy in Saltaire recently. There was little to see apart from the usual collection of trucks full of equipment. They seem to be doing the filming itself in the basement of Salts Mill, well away from curious eyes. The only clue I could see was a van belonging to Real SFX, a company dealing in Special Effects for the TV and Film industry. (Their website is rather fun, albeit a bit gory!) The local newspaper (who presumably have better contacts than I!) reckon that they are filming a Netflix drama called 'Bodies' (which seems to have no link to the medical TV series of that name that was shown in the early 2000s). Apparently it is a crime drama, with four different detectives in four different time periods investigating the same murder. Sounds quite intriguing. At this rate, I'm going to have to subscribe to Netflix, as a lot of the stuff they film locally seems to be under that banner. 

The lilies are back

After a post-Covid absence of quite a few months, I am delighted to report that the lilies are back! That is, the huge vases of fragrant white lilies that have been scenting the air in Salts Mill's 1853 Gallery for many years. There are always so many bunches of them that the whole gallery is perfumed. It's such an evocative scent that I only have to catch a whiff of them anywhere and I am immediately transported in my mind to this wonderful old mill, one of my happy places. I've occasionally bought them to display at home, but the strong perfume is a bit overpowering in a small sitting room. Here, in the vast space of the gallery, the scent is pleasant and lends a wonderful ambience. The atmosphere and the lovely artworks, books and art materials lull you - almost drug you - into perhaps spending longer in there than you might have planned. I think the lilies are a poignant tribute to the late Jonathan Silver, the entrepreneur who rescued the mill from dereliction in the 1980s, but who sadly died in 1997. Salts Mill is now managed by his family. 

Not the Saltaire Festival

Current events have us all in a spin! This last weekend was meant to be the start of the annual, week-long Saltaire Festival. The death of HM The Queen and the consequent period of national mourning have caused many events organisers to postpone whatever they were planning, and the Saltaire Festival is one of the events impacted. I have read arguments from some people that it should have gone ahead; that the tradition of the Queen herself was always to remain steadfast and keep to her schedule, fulfil her promises as much as she could; that the many small businesses involved will be left with losses at a time when they already have so many pressures. Let's face it, there is also a certain element within the country that thinks the hereditary monarchy is surplus to requirements anyway, and is resenting the extensive coverage given to this story. However, I think most people feel it would probably seem wrong and somewhat disrespectful to continue with joyful celebrations at a time when most of us feel a bit sombre and reflective. We are mostly very conscious that we have been plunged into a hugely historic and significant time, a time that we should somehow strive as a nation to 'do well' because it will all be recorded in the archives for the future. 

Having said all that, it was rather a pity that Saturday was not the start of the Festival. It was a glorious day, warm and pleasant and there seemed more than the usual number of people out and about quietly enjoying the village and the park. The cricket match went ahead, the café was open, there was an art show, there was the open-air farmer's market and a horticultural show ... It felt all very British, somehow!

Joy and Peace

Joy, Peace, Hope, Love, Kindness, Grace - fine sentiments to wish over our communities, wherever we place ourselves. 

This colourful mural is outside our church, St Peter's Shipley, at the moment. I assume it was painted by our talented congregational member, Christine, as she has done several before for this noticeboard. 

Band of gold

Sunsets in Saltaire tend to be unspectacular affairs, since our position low in the valley means that the sun sinks behind trees and hills long before it produces much colour. Anyway, my view west is blocked by houses so I rarely notice even the good ones. I do, occasionally, take a short walk in the evening and since we are now getting to the time of year when the sun sets a bit earlier, I'm more likely to witness a pretty sky. Some of them are pink and pastel. This one was bands of gold, like banners across the sky. (And now I have a song in my head - Freda Payne,1970 - geesh! It's odd how I can remember lyrics from so far back and yet not recall why I've gone upstairs when I reach the top step!) 

Now that you're gone
All that's left is a band of gold,
All that's left of the dreams I hold
Is a band of gold.

Rest in Peace

As I'm sure the entire world has by now heard, the death was announced yesterday of HM Queen Elizabeth II. 

She has been our Queen literally for the whole of my life, acceding to the throne in February 1952. I was born in June 1952 and one of the earliest photos I have in my album is of myself, not quite a year old, waving a Union Jack flag on her Coronation Day in June 1953. My middle name is Elizabeth, as was common for many girls born in the early 1950s.

I have always been glad to live in a constitutional monarchy, though inevitably it throws up almost as many issues as it solves. It seems to me to be the best situation - or perhaps Queen Elizabeth herself made it the best. Whatever you think, it's hard to fault her sense of duty and her work ethic. (Just two days ago she was graciously dealing with our latest change of PM. One can't help but think perhaps it was a bit much for her at the age of 96.) 

I only ever actually saw her once, when my daughter obtained tickets in a ballot in 2013 to watch the Garter Day Ceremony procession at Windsor Castle, a very memorable occasion. My main recollection is how tiny the Queen was! I almost missed seeing her, as those around her (like the Duke of Cambridge, shown in the photo) were so much taller than she.

I have usually watched the major, televised ceremonial events: the Jubilees, the State Openings of Parliament, the Remembrance Day commemorations, Trooping the Colour, the royal weddings and so on. (You can say what you like about Great Britain but we do 'ceremonial' extremely well!) I suppose the next couple of weeks will be full of tributes and then, of course, the State Funeral. No doubt the Commonwealth and world leaders will be sending their best mourning suits to the dry cleaners, as I write. The plans will have been in place for years, tweaked and revised as various things have happened. 

There will be much reflection - on a long life well-lived, with wise moves and occasional mistakes, on its privilege and its duty. There will be much speculation about the future. At the most basic level, we will have to learn to sing 'God Save the King' from this day forward. As it is, it seems yet another hammer blow to all that we know and love about our country. These last few years have been so tough and the Queen remained a constant and somehow comforting presence.  

Rest In Peace, your Majesty. I am thankful to have been alive throughout your reign, living in peace, with relative stability and prosperity. It know it's been a privilege and not something to take for granted. I am grateful. 

My thoughts and prayers are with the Queen's family and close friends. (Heartbreaking to me that William and Harry have had to go to Balmoral, which will surely only serve to bring up distressing memories of learning there of their mother's death.) 

God Save the King. 

Blue sky bliss

I had a short walk down to Shipley, quite early one morning, to fulfil some small errands. It was such a beautiful morning: blue sky, pleasantly warm, not a hint of breeze. I inevitably decided to return home the longer, more scenic way along the canal... just because I could. Every time I come this way it reminds me of all those years of walking to work and I am always so grateful and thrilled that now I don't have to work and can please myself how I spend my time. Bliss! I'll never take that for granted. 

The scenes are familiar, yet there is always something new to notice. The new retirement home, built where a redundant factory used to be, is on the way to completion. It is, though, such a boring, unimaginative piece of architecture - albeit it has a nice view over the canal. 

It also has to look over at the increasingly decrepit former British Waterways warehouse, though even that made an interesting reflection on such a wonderful morning. 

The stretch of towpath beside Jane Hills has so much overgrown vegetation along the canal's edge that it feels more like walking through woodland! 

The old boatmen's cottages have been there for a lot longer than the surrounding office blocks and business units - though they are soon to have new neighbours. The former HMRC offices behind are being sold for residential development. 

Nearing Saltaire, the view of Salts Mill along the canal is always intriguing and enticing. There are several narrowboats moored in Saltaire at present. The current drought has caused such low water levels that much of the canal is closed to through traffic for the foreseeable future so boat dwellers are effectively stuck in quite small sections. 

I've never noticed shoals of fish near the surface before, though you see them jumping occasionally and there are often fishermen so I know there are fish. Perhaps they were enjoying the sunshine and warm water or perhaps the low water means there isn't enough oxygen? I don't know enough about fish to judge. 

I spotted a colourful small tortoiseshell butterfly on a buddleia. Nothing special - either butterfly or flower - but still lovely to see. 

Glasshouse

This charming scene bids me to photograph it year after year at this season. The chimney is, of course, the iconic main boiler-room chimney of Salts Mill, standing tall as it has done since the 1850s (though nowadays without the original carved stone finial at the top, which was removed for safety reasons). 

There have been allotments here too, for about the same length of time. Sir Titus Salt wanted to provide his community with everything they needed and, given that most of the village houses don't have gardens, some of the land was given over to allotments so people could grow food and get some recreation. This particular plot is tended by an elderly gentleman and has some good old-fashioned flowers, as well as some veg and fruit. When the gladioli and dahlias are in bloom, it always appeals to me. I guess it reminds me a bit of my grandfather's garden. 

Local heather

I didn't really get chance to go searching for heather this year but, on the Bank Holiday weekend, I did have a walk up to Shipley Glen. There is a small area up there where a few heather plants grow, although it often doesn't bloom at exactly the same time as the heather on the higher and more open moors. It was already fading. I do, however, quite like the colour as it fades from mauve and purple to a more pinkish brown hue. I'm sure there's a proper name for it. Dusty rose, perhaps? 

Ian Beesley Retrospective

There's a fabulous photography exhibition currently on display in the roof space (a former spinning shed) in Salts Mill. Called simply 'Life', it is a major career retrospective of the work of local social documentary photographer Ian Beesley. It's on until October 30th (check opening times) and I highly recommend it. 

It includes examples of Ian's work spanning 40 years, from a career that started inauspiciously when he was expelled from school! He started work at Esholt Sewage Works, where his colleagues urged him to find his passion and get educated. He discovered photography, attended Bradford Art College and then Bournemouth and Poole College of Art. He gained a Kodak scholarship for social documentation and began a lifelong study of the North's cultural and industrial heritage, and the people who populate it. He has gained numerous awards and his work is exhibited internationally and held in numerous collections. For all that, his modesty means that he isn't exactly a household name (unlike, for example, Martin Parr), which in some ways is a shame. (I had to smile at an article that was printed in one of the major newspapers some time ago, with an accompanying headshot purporting to be of Ian, the photographer. He notes that it is in fact a mugshot of a criminal by the same name! The newspaper's pictures editor messed that one up!)

His work includes projects in the last coal mines in the UK, our textile mills (including documenting the closure of Salts Mill as a working textile mill), studies of Bradford's streets and mills in the 1970s and 80s, and more recent collaborative projects that are mainly portraits - centenarians, children 'Born in Bradford', and projects researching the effects of dementia. Ian has a very down to earth persona and style, and the display is peppered with handwritten notes and observations, often wry and humorous, as well as displays showing how he develops, prints and hones his images. They are mostly black and white prints, with many - if not most - taken on analogue film. 

I first came across Ian way back in the 1970s, when I used to work with his sister. He was then just starting out and it has been interesting and heartwarming to see his gradual development into a world class photographer - whilst remaining very down to earth and approachable. 

To see some of the photos, click HERE. 

Some of the photos in the exhibition are linked with evocative poems by Yorkshire poet Ian McMillan. The two Ians have worked collaboratively for many years. Thus they document not only the demise of our heavy industries but the language that is getting lost along the way too. The punched steel sheets on the wall (above) list some of the trades that have disappeared: Carders, Casters, Combers, Fettlers, Doffers, Liggers, Tatlers, Burlers, Menders, Porers, Corers, Stampers, Mulespinners, Capsteamers, Slubbers and Fellmongers among them. 

As a descendant of several generations of coal miners and now living in this Victorian industrial village of Saltaire, where history pours out of the very walls, I found the exhibition poignant and moving. As I say, highly recommended.