Midsummer weather and wild flowers. And the poetry of war.

It’s the summer solstice - officially midsummer! People gathered last night to celebrate and to see the sunrise this morning. Glen Michael Herbert, a woodcarver known as Herbie to his friends, summed up the draw of the summer solstice:

“It’s a spiritual thing that people of all faiths and none can embrace,” he said. “I think it’s about feeling the wheel of the year turning, enjoying the light, appreciating nature. Most of all, coming together.”

Those who know and analyse such things say that they expected  a good turnout because the weather has been good and, possibly more importantly, the solstice falls on a weekend. 

When I went out running this morning it was already warm and sunny - 25+°. The dog-walkers I met almost all commented that they probably wouldn’t be able to walk their hounds later as it would be far too not for them. I went home, showered, loaded some washing into the washing machine and eventually had breakfast. These days as we breakfast quite late I suppose I should call that meal “brunch”, a modern combination of breakfast and lunch. 

The footpaths all bordered with flowers which I am reliably (I hope) informed are called “fox and cubs”.

Yesterday as I returned from my run, I had a message from Granddaughter Number Two suggesting I meet her and her mother for “brunch” at a local cafe, as we have often done on a Friday morning over the last few years. I showered and dressed in haste and set off just in time to catch a bus. I would happily have walked but the bus was there: it would have been churlish not to make use of it.

Today, by the time I had hung washing out to dry, the cloud had moved in. We are forecast thunderstorms but they haven’t materialised yet. However, about half an hour after I pegged the washing out it began to rain. I blame the neighbours: she has been watering plants and he promised/threatened to cut the grass. 

Out in the war-torn wider world, Gaza has been producing poets. Even in the midst of conflict, creation can flourish. Here is a work by someone who signs himself simply Saleh:

When the Sea became a Wall

When we were displaced,

The sea was near - like a window escaping

From the memory of home.

And winter was a pure ritual, 

Cleansing the streets of the heart

From the footprints of fear.

We walked with no bags, 

Except for a suitcase of silence,

Drawing our dreams on the sand, 

Leaving them to the tide

So that exile would not return them.

Winter, the friend of exiles,

Eased our burden,

Rearranged our voices,

And hid our tears

Beneath the shawl of the wind.

Whenever I whispered to the sea ‘where am I?’

The waves replied, 

‘You are not here,

But do not be afraid.

The homeland dwells in poetry,

And poetry is never defeated.’

And here is one by Sameh Shahrouj:

“To the Soldier Who Points a Gun at Me”

You think I’m here to die.

You think that’s all we know how to do—

bleed, bury, break.

But listen.

I grow things.

Tomatoes in rusted cans.

Hope in children who don’t know what the word means yet.

I build—walls, stories, mornings.

I fix roofs with one hand and hold my daughter’s hand with the other.

And you?

You carry a gun like it’s your purpose.

But I’ve seen men become ghosts

long before the trigger is pulled.

You call this land a threat.

I call it history .

The call to prayer. The school bell.

The pot of lentils boiling over.

Don’t mistake my softness for surrender.

I don’t need to shout to be strong.

The fig tree in my yard

has stood through three wars

without raising its voice.

You—

with your steel and fear,

your borrowed power—

you patrol streets looking for danger

and miss the beauty flowering between the cracks.

You fear death.

I fear forgetting how to live.

So if you shoot,

know this:

I wasn’t born to hate.

But I won’t vanish to make you comfortable.

I won’t flinch so you can sleep easier.

I am not your victim.

I am not your enemy.

I am the reminder

that even under occupation,

a man can love too fiercely to be erased.

That’s all.

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!

Drought conditions here and there.

Out walking with Granddaughter Number Two yesterday, I took a photo of the stepping stones in Uppermill, stepping stones that provide a crossing point from the canal towpath to the park and playing field. The stones were almost completely out of the water, the River Tame is so low at that point. It’s more usual to see the stones disappearing until a rushing torrent. 

The river doesn’t look quite so low as it goes through Delph but it is significantly lower than usual. And in other places around the millponds still seem quite full.

When my daughter called in on her way home from work she told us that she had seen a water tanker pumping water INTO one of the local small reservoirs. What was that all about?

And this morning she and Granddaughter Number Two took a walk round  Dovestone Reservoir, a local beauty spot. The water level there is significantly lower than usual. It seems that our drought is continuing for the time being. But so far nobody has instructed us to stop water the gardens.

In other parts of the world the drought is not the consequence of unusual weather but strictly man-made:

“Gaza faces 'man-made drought', UNICEF claims

Gaza is facing a man-made drought as its water systems collapse, the UN’s children agency has said.

“Children will begin to die of thirst … Just 40% of drinking water production facilities remain functional,” Unicef spokesperson James Elder told reporters in Geneva, according to Reuters.

It comes a day after Unicef said more than 5,000 children were diagnosed with malnutrition in the Gaza Strip in May.

The agency said according to data from Unicef-supported nutrition centres in the Gaza Strip, this represents a nearly 50% increase on April, and a 150% increase from February when the ceasefire was in effect and aid was entering Gaza.”

Here’s a post from Jeremy Corbyn, reminding us again of the situation in Gaza:

“Today, more starving Palestinians were lured into “aid distribution sites”.

They went in hope that they might find a bag of flour.

They were gunned down and murdered instead. 

What utter inhumanity. End all arms sales to Israel, now.”

Meanwhile we get on with things, hoping that the world can put itself to rights eventually.

Life goes on stay safe and well, everyone!

Back on my bike. Charity shop problems. Women’s right to choose. A bit of colourful housing.:

 Yesterday I cycled to Uppermill to the market for the first time in ages. The weather and circumstances have combined against me getting back on my bike. But yesterday was forecast to be fine and so I got on my bike and off I went. Uppermill was very quiet. The market was very depleted. I hope it doesn’t just disappear. 

Uppermill itself is getting to be full of cafes, gift shops and charity shops. Oh and boutiques which sell expensive clothes. There is still a butcher’s shop and the Italian fruit and vegetable shop and a couple of chemists. As I turned off the side street onto the high street I noticed that one of the charity shops had its doorway chockablock with bags of stuff, piles of books and rather tatty-looking plastic baskets. Someone had chosen to ignore the notice that asked people not to leave contributions in he doorway. This lot would prevent access to the door. There was even a television set, no doubt out of date! Everything would need sorting. Much of it would be unsuitable for re-selling. It’s a bit like fly tipping! And the disposal of unwanted items becomes someone else’s problem! 

I wrote the other day about a motion in parliament to decriminalise abortion. This article tells us that the motion was passed. It should go through the House of Lords without problems. Hurrah for women’s freedom. However, Stella Creasy declares on this article that it didn’t go far enough. She maintains we still have a way to go to give women control of their bodies. 

I was reading about Los Angeles and the immigration laws. Apparently one in three people of LA county’s more than 10 million residents are immigrants, and 1.6 million children in the region have at least one immigrant parent. No wonder they have protested about the crackdown on immigrants. 

Immigrant workers make up 40% of the LA metro area’s workforce. LA city councilmember Hugo Soto-Martínez, the son of Mexican immigrants and street vendors, says: “Angelenos know that it doesn’t matter where you are – if you’re eating at a restaurant, chances are your food is cooked by an immigrant. If you’re having work done on your house, it’s often an immigrant. Many nannies are immigrants. And if you go to the hospital, chances are you’re being treated by an immigrant.”

In 2023 the city declared itself a sanctuary city, barring local personnel and resources from being used in federal immigration enforcement. California, too, has passed a string of laws to protect immigrant workers – regardless of legal status – from retaliation, wage theft and other forms of exploitation. According to this article, America had open borders until 1924. A century on things have changed radically. I know people who are reluctant even to think of going to the USA nowadays!,

Mind you, it’s not necessarily much better here with Brexit immigration laws. This article tells of the problems a British woman is having as she wants return to the, brining her Italian husband and her dual-nationality children with her. She and the children could come here and live on benefits. Her husband, who could support them, cannot come immediately because of legal restrictions about income and savings! Oh, the irony! 

Just to cheer us all up, here is a picture of a beautifully colourful house by Gaudí in Barcelona. I know how to pronounce his name (Gowdee) but this might have us thinking it should be ‘gaudy’! 

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!

Lost drivers in difficult situations. Mobile phones. And Iran.

Some time ago I saw a photo of a car abandoned at the top of a slope leading to the canal towpath which goes from the Brownhill Centre, Dobcross, as far as the museum in Uppermill. I suspect the driver was misled into continuing the descent from the road parallel to the Donkey Line bridle path, instead of the more logical right turn onto Den Lane, which also ends up also close to the museum. People drive, or try to drive, in odd places. We once came across a car trying to make its way down Lark Hill, which once was passable in sturdy vehicles like Land-rovers but is now so degraded that even tractors would have difficulty navigating it.

  

And yesterday an 80 year old man had to be rescued, or rather his car had be rescued, after he drove it down the Spanish steps in Rome. There seems to be no suggestion that he drove there with malice aforethought. Maybe he was lost and was following satnav instructions. They have been known to lead people into odd situations. 

Other people have tried to drive down the Spanish steps, which were never intended for vehicles. In May 2022, a Saudi national drove a rented Maserati through the steps, descending the first flight of steps before stopping. Fractures were subsequently found on the 16th and 29th steps of the right-hand flight rising up from Piazza di Spagna. The man, who abandoned the car and fled the scene, was later apprehended at the airport in Milan after being identified through surveillance cameras and was charged with inflicting aggravated damage to cultural heritage and monuments.

Incidentally, the Spanish Steps take their name from the Spanish embassy to the Holy See in a nearby square, probably the Piazza di Spagna. A backdrop used in numerous films, they were built in the 1720s and have long been a popular spot. Long before I went to Rome, for me they were a line in Joni Mitchell’s song “The only Joy in Town”, and so when we finally visited the city I simply had to go and take a look at the famous steps. And take some photos - probably with my mobile phone.

Sometimes people say that the series Star Trek was oddly prescient in its depiction of the crew of the Starship Enterprise with their small communication devices. However, they were preempted 106 years ago! A comic strip from 1919 predicted — eerily and accurately — what would happen if our phones fit into our pockets. 

W. K. Haselden’s ‘The Pocket Telephone: When Will it Ring?’ was published in “The Mirror” when barely 1/3rd of American homes even had telephones. (A double irony: most of us are viewing this on our “pocket phones”.)

That’s enough silliness. Here’s some more serious stuff. 

With continued chaos in the Middle East, a friend of mine posted this:

“Reeves: “we are very concerned around Iran’s nuclear ambition”

Some facts Reeves doesn’t mention.

Iran has no nuclear weapons.

Israel does. Iran has signed the 

non-proliferation treaty. Israel hasn’t.

iran allows IAEA observers to inspect

its nuclear programme. Israel doesn’t.”

And here is a bit of Michael Rosen commentary: 

“What we need to do now is normalise. 

Normalise normalise normalise. 

Normalise the deaths of Palestinians - regrettable, inevitable,necessary. 

Normalise war with Iran - regrettable, inevitable, necessary. 

Normalise US redrawing the map of the Middle East - necessary.”

Hmmm!

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!