Archive | September 2014

Sunday stroll: Cherhill

Yesterday Chap and I headed north—most unusual for us (our hearts are in the south and west, and best of all the south-west). We visited the beautiful town of Malmesbury with its glorious abbey, founded in 675 AD, and then went on to Cherhill, a chalk downland hill near Calne. You can’t miss Cherhill: atop it sits the Lansdowne Monument, a 38 m (125 feet) high obelisk, and carved into the side of the hill is the famous Cherhill White Horse, one of several in the region. Cherhill is in the ownership of the National Trust, and is managed as part of the Avebury Estate.

Cherhill. Photo by MacFodder.

Cherhill. Photo by MacFodder.

Cherhill packs in an awful lot of history into its not-so-great size. On top of the hill sits the two thousand year old plus Iron Age hillfort of Oldbury. The massive earthworks enclose an area of 10.1 hectares (25 acres). The northern part of the fort has no bank and ditch as the steep slope of the side of the downland provides natural defence.

Aerial photo of Oldbury. The Lansdowne Monumnet is visible within the north-western part of the Iron Age hillfort. Photo by Google.

Aerial photo of Oldbury. The Lansdowne Monument is visible within the north-western part of the Iron Age hillfort. The White Horse is just out of shot at the top of the image area. Photo by Google.

The earthworks of the Iron Age hillfort.

The earthworks of the Iron Age hillfort.

The entrance to the interior of the hillfort through the earthworks, in the south-east part of the hillfort.

The entrance to the interior of the hillfort through the earthworks, in the east part of the hillfort.

On the north-facing slopes of the downland, and clearly visible from the A4, an old coaching road, is the Cherhill White Horse. This was constructed in 1780, the brainchild of Dr Christopher Alsop of Calne. Alsop was known as ‘The Mad Doctor’, and is reputed to have instructed the workers by shouting through a megaphone from the wonderfully-named Labour-in-Vain Hill. The horse was originally 50 m by 67 m (165 feet by 220 feet).

The construction method for a white horse is very simple—the thin turf and soil is removed from the underlying chalk bedrock. When first exposed, the chalk is a brilliant white, and so contrasts well with the surrounding turf. However, the chalk soon weathers, turning a greyish colour, sometimes a greeny-grey if algae grows on it, and weeds take hold. For this reason, hill-cut chalk figures (of which there are a good number in southern England) have to be regularly re-scoured or re-dressed with fresh chalk. As far as I can make out, it was last re-dressed in 2002.

View of a rather grubby looking Cherhill White Horse from just below the Lansdowne Monument.

View of a rather grubby looking Cherhill White Horse from just below the Lansdowne Monument.

Close to, it is so large that you can barely make it out as a horse. Needs a good clean!

Close to, it is so large and becomes so abstract that you can barely make it out as a horse. Needs a good clean!

Here it is in brighter days.

Here it is in brighter days. Photo by Dan Gabor.

The Lansdowne Monument was designed by Sir Charles Barry (he of the Houses of Parliament), and built in 1845 by Henry Petty-Fitzmaurice, the 3rd Marquess of Lansdowne in memory of his ancestor Sir William Petty (1623-1687). Sir William was an economist, scientist and philosopher, and held the position of Surveyor General of Ireland in the 1660s. The Monument is 38 metres (125 feet) high, and is a Grade II* listed building.

The Lansdowne Monument. Photo by Lisa Hillier.

The Lansdowne Monument. Photo by Lisa Hillier in 2002.

The Monument is currently boarded up at its base for public safety: the Bath Stone quoins have been eroding away in the bad winter weather and large fragments of rock have dropped from it.

Slightly skewiff photo.

Slightly skewiff photo, but it shows the boarding at the base well.

Close to the Lansdowne Monument.

Close to the Lansdowne Monument.

A sad sign of the times: on the boarding was a notice by the National Trust saying it is not known when funding will be available to repair the Monument.

Even though it was an overcast day, the views from the hill to the north are wonderful.

Comet probe landing date set

Clear your calendars! The date has been set—the NASA Philae landing probe from the European Space Agency Rosetta space satellite will attempt to land on Comet 67P/Churyumov-Gerasimenko on Wednesday 12 November. With any luck the lander will successfully touch down at around 15:35 GMT, with confirmation due to arrive some time after 16.00 GMT.

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Comet 67P/Churyumov-Gerasimenko. Photo by Rosetta / ESA.

The landing site, known as ‘J’, has been carefully selected out of a shortlist of five potential sites. It is on the smaller of the comet’s two lobes (the head of the rubber duck).

Landing site J.

Landing site J. Photo by Rosetta / ESA.

There is a high risk involved in such a tricky procedure. If successful, the lander will screw itself into position and then undertake some scientific analyses of the surface chemistry, drilling for samples and analysing them in an onboard laboratory. The scientists do not expect Philae to last much beyond next March as it will fail at some point due to overheating. Rosettta will stay in orbit for a year, sending back information as the comet moves in its elliptical orbit around the sun. Exciting (and nailbiting) times ahead. THE BBC article carries this caveat: The timings mentioned on this page carry some uncertainty and would change if subsequent mapping shows the J site to have a major problem, with Esa forced to shift its attention to the back-up destination, C.

A good read: John Lahr on Tennessee Williams

Well, I don’t know if it is because I haven’t received it yet, but coming my way is John Lahr‘s new biography of Tennessee Williams, one of my favourite playwrights. Called Tennessee Williams: Mad Pilgrimage of the Flesh, it is published in the UK today. I am sure it will be more than just a good read, though—Lahr is a terrific writer, and the reviews I have seen so far have been glowing.

Tennessee Williams on location during the filming of his play, The Night of the Iguana.

Tennessee Williams on location during the filming of his play, The Night of the Iguana.

I am so pleased that this book has finally been published. I have the first instalment of the biographical series, if it can be called that: Lyle Leverich‘s Tom: The Unknown Tennessee Williams, which was published in 1995 and followed Williams’ life up to 1945, ending as Williams worked on A Streetcar Named Desire. Leverich died in 1999 before he could complete his second part of the biography, and had asked that Lahr should take over the task. I was very sad to hear of Leverich’s death because he had done such a magnificent job on Tom, but I couldn’t have been happier to learn of Lahr’s involvement.

John Lahr. Photo by Jill Krementz.

John Lahr. Photo by Jill Krementz.

Lahr wrote my all-time favourite biography, the magisterial Prick Up Your Ears, the biography of Joe Orton, as well as editing Orton’s wonderfully scurrilous and funny diaries and writing the preface to Orton’s collected plays. Orton is, I think, my all-time favourite playwright (what is it with me and gay playwrights?). I love his black humour, his irreverent take on life, and his joyous way with words. He came from Leicester, where I grew up, so maybe I feel a special affinity with him because of this.

In 1988 Lahr came to talk about Orton at the bookshop in Leicester in which I was working. At the time the Haymarket Theatre was putting on two of Orton’s lesser-known plays (The Ruffian on the Stair and The Erpingham Camp), and there was a display of related photographs and artwork in the foyer of the theatre. I cheekily asked the manager if we could borrow a huge black and white photo of Orton for the evening, and he kindly agreed—I remember walking through the streets carrying this massive portrait of one of Leicester’s most (in)famous sons, and chuckling to myself that he was being fêted in the city of which he had never thought too fondly. Lahr’s talk was fascinating, and Orton’s sister Leonie was there too, and answered questions about Joe’s life. It was a very special night. I had taken along all my Lahr books for him to sign, and they are now among my most treasured possessions.

Joe Orton.

Joe Orton.

And nicely completing the circle, I learned not too long ago that Williams greatly admired Orton, and even dedicated a play to his memory.

As well as Williams’ collected plays and short stories, I have a very small collection of books on Williams, only a tiny proportion of the hundreds that have been written about him. Chap bought me the Leverich book when it was published, and others I have picked up at second-hand bookshops. I have Williams’ Memoirs (published in 1972), highly selective and self-censored, as became apparent when I read Leverich; Tennessee Williams’ Letters to Donald Windham 1940-1965, edited by Donald Windham and published in 1977; and another, rather less satisfactory biography, The Kindness of Strangers: The Life of Tennessee Williams, by Donald Spoto and published in 1985. Lahr’s book is going to be well-thumbed before too long.

Lahr’s book has been the Book of the Week on BBC Radio 4 this week, read by Damian Lewis. I admire how the abridger has managed to distil the 784 pages documenting the last 37 years of Williams’ hectic life into 75 minutes. No mean feat!

The hitchhiker

This little news report struck me the other day. A Cape genet (Genetta tigrina), a kind of small carnivorous mammal related to civets and mongooses, has been recorded in the Hluhluwe-iMfolozi Park in South Africa hitching rides at night on the backs of buffalo and rhinoceroses. The photographs, taken by camera-traps, showed that on one night he hitched a ride on two separate buffalo and on a rhino!

He even has his own twitter account: the wonderfully groan-worthy GenetJackson.

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Genet atop a buffalo …

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… and a rhino

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Experts at the park have established that it is the same genet in all the images. The Director of the Park, Dr Simon Morgan, has offered an explanation for the behaviour:

“We are not sure what is happening here. Looking at the photos you can see that in some the genet is literally going along for a ride, while in a few others the genet is near the head and could be picking ticks of the animals’ ears perhaps? It could be similar behaviour to cattle egrets which go for a ride and wait for the large animal to flush insects, so in this case the genet could be using this vantage point to spot small prey items being flushed by the buffalo or the rhino.”

Cape genet (Genetta tigrina). Photo by Jana.

Cape genet (Genetta tigrina). Photo by Jana.

Norwegian enamel jewellery

I have favourite types of jewellery in my Etsy shop, and they come and go in phases. At the moment, I’m in a Norwegian enamel phase. There’s something about the crispness and craftsmanship in these pretty enamelled brooches. Plus, an extra bonus for me is that they are often based on designs from nature. They all date from the 1950s:

Aksel Holmsen enamel and silver with vermeil brooch, often called the 'lily of the valley' design. For sale at my Etsy shop.

Aksel Holmsen enamel and silver with vermeil brooch, often called the ‘lily of the valley’ design. For sale in my Etsy shop. (NOW SOLD).

Hroar Prydz enamel and silver with vermeil butterfly brooch. For sale in my Esty shop.

Hroar Prydz enamel and silver with vermeil butterfly brooch. For sale in my Etsy shop. (NOW SOLD).

David-Andersen enamel and silver with vermeil leaf brooch. For sale in my Etsy shop.

David-Andersen enamel and silver with vermeil leaf brooch. For sale in my Etsy shop. (NOW SOLD).

David Andersen teal enamel and sterling silver ring, for sale in my Etsy shop. Click on photo for details.

David Andersen teal enamel and sterling silver ring, for sale in my Etsy shop. Click on photo for details. (NOW SOLD).

Hroar Prydz enamel and silver with vermeil butterfly earrings. (NOW SOLD).

Hroar Prydz enamel and silver with vermeil butterfly earrings. (NOW SOLD).

UPDATE: For an up-to-date list of the Norwegian enamel for sale in my Etsy shop, including an enamelled sølje brooch, see here.

Norwegian jewellers have been producing enamelled pieces since the early 20th century. Probably the most famous jeweller is the firm of David-Andersen, with other notable jewellers who worked with enamel including (in alphabetical order) Marius Hammer, Kristian M Hestenes, O F Hjortdahl, Aksel Holmsen, Ivar T Holth, Finn Jensen, Bernard Meldahl, Einar Modahl, Hans Myrhe, Arne Nordlie, OPRO, Hroar Prydz, and J Tostrup.

Of all the designs, I like the butterfly brooches the most, and of those, the David-Andersen ones are stunning. I hope one day to catch one of those little beauties for my shop: until then I will have to suffice with drooling over those belonging to others:

David-Andersen neamel and silver with vermeil butterfly brooch, c. 1950. Sold at Tadema Gallery.

David-Andersen enamel and silver with vermeil butterfly brooch, c. 1950. Sold at Tadema Gallery. I WANT THIS!

For sale at Ruby Lane.

David-Andersen enamel and silver with vermeil butterfly brooch, c. 1950. For sale at Ruby Lane.

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Yet more David-Andersen loveliness.

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And yet more …

Poplar hawk moth

Chap found this little fellow yesterday on the ground underneath a neighbour’s aspen tree. Isn’t he stunning? Such gorgeous colours.

It’s the caterpillar of a poplar hawk moth (Laothoe populi), and I gather they feed on aspen, poplar and willow leaves. The aspen leaves are starting to fall so he might have been on one when it tumbled off the tree.

Poplar hawk moth caterpillar, 14 September 2014.

Poplar hawk moth caterpillar, 14 September 2014. Photo by Inglenookery.

I hope he wasn’t hurt—we aren’t sure what the clear liquid is, but hope it might be some sort of defence mechanism rather than indicating he is injured.

We aren't sure what the clear liquid is, but hope that the little fellow wasn't hurt.

We aren’t sure what the clear liquid is, but hope that the little fellow wasn’t hurt. Photo by Inglenookery.

He’s such a gorgeous lime green colour with four rows of maroon spots, and matching bootees! Chap put him back under the tree: he’ll dig a hole and pupate there, and hatch out next year as a beautiful moth.

Poplar hawk moth. Photo by Hamon jean-pierre.

Poplar hawk moth. Photo by Hamon jean-pierre.

A touch of the Tropics

What a lovely surprise to see this BBC video feature about Tim Wilmot’s garden in Yate, near Bristol. I interviewed Tim for a piece I wrote for The English Garden back in 2005, and spent a happy afternoon looking round his amazing subtropical paradise. It was such a surprise to walk through his house in suburban Gloucestershire and out into this:

Tim Wilmot in his garden in Yate, Bristol. Photo from The Bristol Post.

Tim Wilmot in his garden in Yate, near Bristol. Photo from The Bristol Post.

I was immensely impressed by his vision and his dedication and his flair. It isn’t a very big garden at all, and yet he has packed so many interesting and special and in some cases huge plants in: a little taste of the West Indies in the West Country, and most definitely NOT an English country garden! I absolutely adored it.

Sloe gin and sloe vodka

Chap came back from a Sunday trundle in his Land Rover up on to Salisbury Plain with a bag full of sloes. We make sloe gin and sloe vodka most years. We also make damson gin and vodka, and greengage gin and vodka when we can get hold of those rare little green beauties. Sloe gin is a wonderfully warming winter liqueur, and it also makes a great base for a kir royale-type drink, made with cava (or champagne if your pockets are a bit deeper).

2011 and 2013 sloe gin batches. The colour deepens as the liqueur ages.

2011 (left) and 2013 (right) sloe gin batches. The colour deepens as the liqueur ages.

There are various schools of thought about when is the best time to pick sloes. Some say they should only be picked after the first frost; others bypass this by sticking them in the freezer overnight; others (like us) don’t bother and pick them when they are ripe, frost or no frost, and no freezer malarkey. I can honestly say I cannot tell the difference between any of these methods in the resulting drink they produce, but maybe I’m just a lush with a very unsophisticated palate.

Sloes (Prunus spinisa).

Sloes (Prunus spinosa), photographed 17 August 2014.

The sloes seem to be getting riper earlier with each passing year: in 2011 we picked them on 3 October: this year it was on 31 August.

Last year's batch waiting to be strained and bottled up. Left to right: sloe vodka, sloe gin, damson vodka, damson gin.

Last year’s batch waiting to be strained and bottled up. Left to right: sloe vodka, sloe gin, damson vodka, damson gin.

And as for the recipe itself, it couldn’t be any easier.

Sloe gin (or vodka)

(Can be made with any soft or stone fruit, really—damsons, greengages, mulberries, blackberries, raspberries, strawberries …)

Wash the sloes and drain dry. Pick out any leaves or stems. Prick each sloe (I do this with a fork, holding two sloes at a time). This allows the juices to get into the gin (or vodka) more easily. Fill a 1 litre bottle to halfway up with the sloes (you’ll need a wide-mouthed bottle if you are using damsons or greengages). Add 2 tablespoons of caster sugar. Top up with gin (or vodka).

Leave in a dark place for at least 6 months, gently agitating the bottle every few weeks (if you remember—I sometimes forget and it doesn’t seem to matter much). Strain off the sloes through a muslin-lined colander. It’s best to leave the sloes sitting in the strainer for a few hours to allow the precious liqueur to slowly drip out. Bottle up the sloe gin (or vodka) into a clean, sterilised bottle.

Don’t throw the sloes away. They are too small and bitter to make into a pie filling (as we do with the damsons and greengages); instead, put them back into the bottle and top up with dry white wine and leave for a couple of weeks. We get several bottles of wines-worth from the sloes before they stop giving up their boozy, sloey flavour into the wine.

Sloes picked on Salisbury Plain, 1 September 2014.

Sloes picked on Salisbury Plain, 31 August 2014.

Sloes, 2 tablespoons caster sugar, and gin.

Sloes, caster sugar, and gin: sloe gin in the making, 1 September 2014. Now all it needs is time.

Sloe vodka made yesterday (3 September 2014) on the left, sloe gin made on 1 September on the right. I haven't shaken the vodka and you can see about 1cm of colour hovering above the sloes.

Sloe vodka made yesterday (3 September 2014) on the left, sloe gin made on 1 September on the right. I haven’t shaken the vodka and you can see about 1cm of colour hovering above the sloes.

Hey presto!

One shake later: hey presto! Need to buy a bit more vodka to top the bottle up, and then it’s into the back of the cupboard with them.

We normally bottle up the previous year’s sloe gin and vodka about the time we are making beech leaf noyau (another lovely liqueur that we make in early May), so they have about 8 months’ steeping; this year we forgot and so the sloes have been steeping 3 weeks short of a whole year. Some people reckon their sloe gin is ready by Christmas, but we’ve tried it then and the flavour hasn’t fully developed in four months. It’s definitely worth the wait!

Bárðarbunga: the fissure eruption continues

After a quiet Saturday with no eruptive activity, the fissure near Bárðarbunga sprang into life again early on Sunday (yesterday) morning. I awoke to glorious images online:

Eruption early morning 31 August 2014. Photo from the University of Iceland twitter feed.

Eruption at the fissure near Bárðarbunga, Iceland, early morning Sunday 31 August 2014. Photo from the University of Iceland twitter feed.

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Eruption at the fissure near Bárðarbunga, Iceland, early morning Sunday 31 August 2014. Photo from the University of Iceland twitter feed.

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Pahoehoe basalt lava from the eruption at the fissure near Bárðarbunga, Iceland, early morning Sunday 31 August 2014. Photo from the University of Iceland twitter feed.

The eruption continued throughout Sunday so it was possible to see the lava fountains live on the online webcams. Some of them were 70 m high.  Later on in the day more images from close to the scene came through:

Researchers from the University of Cambridge and the University of Iceland, 31 August 2014, at the fissure near Bárðarbunga, Iceland.

Researchers from the University of Cambridge and the University of Iceland, Sunday 31 August 2014, at the fissure eruption near Bárðarbunga, Iceland. I would love to be here (apart from the poisonous SO2 gases…) Photo from Thorbjorg Agustsdottir’s twitter.

although as a storm passed through for some of the day, no fly-overs were possible. As darkness fell yesterday evening, more stunning images were provided:

Screengrab from a Mila webcam of the fissure last evening, with the lava reflected on the underside of the clouds. Screengrab bu Oddition at Volcanocafe.

Stunning screengrab of the fissure eruption last evening, with the lava reflected on the underside of the clouds. From a Mila webcam, screengrab by Oddition at VolcanoCafé.

As I write (Monday 1 September afternoon) the eruption is continuing.

2 September update: Some stunning aerial photos taken by Einar Gudmann on Monday 1 September here, and magnificent aerial footage filmed by Skarphéðinn Snorrason: