After all this time, why did it surface now?

That’s just one of the questions I’ve been asking recently, after finding another object earlier in the month for what we’re now going to call our ‘Tossed and Found’ shelves. Which have hung for a few years on the side of the old smithy, or efail, or cowshed, as we used to call it before we knew of its former uses.

Fiona has just spruced the shelves up, which she’d ‘rescued’ from a fellow volunteer in the Lampeter Quilt Centre who was otherwise going to take them to the council recycling facility. With a rub down and lick of tung oil, they’re now a smarter home for many of the bits and pieces which we’ve found over our years of toil at Gelli Uchaf. All with their own stories, if they could only be told.

Rusty metal of great variety, boot soles, intact and broken glass bottles, fragments of pottery, skulls and bones. (Just ignore the lower shelf). But the latest discovery, after 30 years of dumped rubbish discoveries is surely the snazziest.

I’d been cutting down the second flush of nettle leaves along the margin of our top field which was about to drop seed and present an ever-expanding management challenge and dilemma. (I know of course nettles are a valuable larval food source for some butterflies, but there are many other nettle patches locally). Using our Li-ion flexing cutter bar hedge trimmer which seems much more efficient than a strimmer. Working down towards the field gate between the two fields below the house, I noticed a small curved rusty handle amongst the debris. Stooping down to pick it up, I mulled over what the strange light grey torn and patterned material around the handle’s spindle might be made of. Turning the piece over and rubbing soil off, there was obviously some sort of simple mechanism long spoiled and seized up connected to the handle. None the wiser, I put it onto the gate post to collect later and kept cutting. About 2 metres up the bank, probably now with my eye and brain a bit more alert, I spotted a square rusty rim, this time embedded deeply in the soil, with a section of broken bottle sticking out from its middle. Indeed it was probably the glass which caught my eye in the first place.

This needed a bit more work to clear the worst of the soil packed into its centre, but it was clear this had been a quality cast item, with its own embossed, pressed name plate on the front, and tabletop fixing holes. I grabbed the handle from the post. They matched up perfectly.Back home, it didn’t take long to track down the details of the item. It’s a coffee bean mill made around 1890, by a manufacturer, A. Kenrick & Son from West Bromwich. Clearly quite a common item, judging by the numbers that survive in far better condition and which can still be bought in usable condition on ebay, (from which the two photos below were copied).

We know it was common practice just to dump discarded items all those years ago on a midden (tomen ?) without anything like regular rubbish collections, but we’re still intrigued that we haven’t found this grinder before – we walk over this area, if not frequently, then certainly occasionally.

In some ways it’s a wonderful physical metaphor for the daily grind that living at Gelli Uchaf would have involved over a century ago, when keeping the occupants warm and well fed, and the farm animals healthy and productive would have been intertwined necessities, and occupying much physical effort and time.

Although hinting at a certain level of affluence, perhaps, to be able to acquire such an item, and then buy the coffee beans to fill it with.

And what will we leave for whoever, if anyone, is living here in another 100 years or so? Just 30 years ago, no one lived in its rapidly degenerating shell.

Will people still be thrilled to find discarded debris, as we’ve been. Hints of previous lives. Or pleased to see unusual plants emerging from overgrown surroundings. A silvered fish, some rusty birds, a broken weather vane and carpets of snowdrops beneath the trees? And wonder what life was like. Back then.

Was anything recorded of life in those times they might wonder? There are rumours of records in physical books, and even on something called the internet, but that was a long time before  AI really took hold and control. Many years ago now.

And how and why the property fell, or WORSE was allowed to fall into disrepair? Since someone’s always responsible. Aren’t they?

Or they used to be. But now you don’t know whether to blame the machines themselves, or their makers.

Or is it just the inevitable consequence and alchemy of time, entropy and the (sometimes) soft Welsh rain working its magic? Playing the long destructive game.

Maybe there’s a poem hidden in this simple story. Sometime, if the time is right, and the words coalesce. At least, I already have a title – Tossed and Found.

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I was prompted to write the short piece below about this year’s honey harvesting session after reading the recent post on the Oxford Natural Beekeeping Forum by Paul Honingman. I was also excited to learn that Paul is about to publish his own significant book, The Observant Beekeeper, which I can’t wait to get my hands on. The group is always a mine of fascinating information for anyone interested in honey bees, and particularly about how to look after them in a more apicentric way.

I notice that as in 2023 it was once again early October before a warmish, dry day with light winds coincided with a period some distance from a full moon. I repeated my routine from last year.

Firstly, adding a rhombus shaped bee excluder eke below the single super on each of the cork insulated National hives around 2.30 pm when temperatures were peaking. Surprisingly, the ‘hayshed’ hive still seemed to have a lot of incoming drone activity, even this late in the year. It requires quite a bit of gentle levering with the hive tool, and rotation of the super box, since the super hasn’t been touched since mid-April, when it was first added to each colony. So the bees have stuck everything together really well with wax and propolis. (Photo – Los Hammerton with thanks!)

The following morning, around 8.30 am when it was still quite chilly, the supers were removed. In each case this year, there were almost no bees remaining on the combs – none in 1 super, 2 in the other. The cover board and lid were replaced onto the excluder, and since the excluder has only a tiny hole, minimal heat would be lost doing this second hive ‘opening’.

Phase 3 involved returning to the hive, and removing the excluder around 3.00 pm the same afternoon, when once more temperatures will be near their peak. Then, as quickly as possible, replacing the crown (top board) and associated layers of waterproof GRP, (old cut down dog kennel), insulating cork and heavy timbers on top. This is probably the most disruptive phase, and since I never use any smoke before opening the hive, I gave the bees on the tops of the frames a very light spray with some tepid water. There’s always a fair bit of torn wax and loose liquid honey from disrupting the connections the bees had formed between the super and box beneath. And the bees are hard at work cleaning this up.

The removed supers were taken into a secure well sealed outbuilding for a couple of days, then brought inside for honey harvesting. Years ago we had a garden visitor who told us that she always bought honeycomb, and ate it whole – wax and all, since she’d heard that it was recommended in Russia for helping with respiratory problems. Her son had very bad asthmatic attacks, and she’d found it helped. Since I’d had a long term issue with COPD, we opted to consume our honey in the same way, so it just needs cutting out in chunks and pushing into a suitable container. I bought some special re-usable lidded plastic tubs, but frankly any re-usable clean food container would be fine for personal use.

It seems impossible to do any honey processing without honey getting everywhere. Aside from permanently sticky fingers. So I have trays beneath everything which catch a lot of the drips from the comb one is working on, as well as all the combs which have been dealt with. These were all saved, and the following afternoon, once I was certain it was warm enough for foragers to be out and about, I left the frames and trays under cover, to the side of the hay shed. It was extraordinary just how quickly the bees discover them, and then divert huge numbers of worker tongues and stomachs to sip up all this energy rich resource and take it back into the colony for storage once more. By the end of the day, everything is picked clean, with waxy debris all that remains.

After the coolest, dullest summer we’ve experienced, one super was nearly completely full of capped honey – sufficient to keep us both supplied for nearly a year. And this from the hayshed hive that has swarmed once, possibly twice this summer, as well as producing very healthy numbers of drones over a very long season.

The other colony, which is, at 3 years plus, a little older, and which again swarmed at least once, (above) and produced masses of drones albeit later in the year, was obviously less active and had minimal capped honey, although quite a lot of still uncapped honey. The other obvious difference is clear in the photos below. Much of this very dark comb has been used for bee larvae rearing (nearly all of the comb in both supers would have been built out by the bees this year). And I suspect from the size of the empty cells, much of this would have housed larger drone larvae.

(Just honey storage honey filled comb above, left. And comb previously used for larval bee development before honey storage, right, which has the pupal silk case together with larval excreta bound into the cell wall).

So with these frames, I cut out any small sections of capped comb, slashed it up with a knife and strained it through a colander and then sieve overnight whilst keeping the contents on the warm side, close to our switched off wood pellet stove. Once again the frames and honey covered trays and colander were left under cover near this second hive. Within a couple of hours the air around was full of bees, and the hive entrance, which 48 hours earlier had barely 2 bees per minute entering, was plastered with bees trying to return to the hive. Waste not, want not, indeed.

I had a valiant effort trying to find scientific references to the benefits of eating honey comb with wax, and failed. We found the advice to always eat it with other foods, is a very good one – since the wax element becomes almost unnoticeable. Maybe try it with a cracker and cheese, or as we do, with a mix of fruits and nuts. Eaten on its own it can be a bit chewier and the wax will stick on teeth. There are lots of web sites of a general health advice slant which extol its health benefits, without any scientific data.

What I did find however were a few reports such as this, (Honeycomb, a New Food Resource with Health Care Functions– Chinese research) which demonstrate how a honey wax extract incorporated into the feed for both broiler chickens, (Effects of honey comb extract on the performance of yellow bantam broilers- Chinese research):and the supplementary ‘nuts’ fed to fatten lambs, (Evaluation of Beeswax Supplementation on Productive Performance of Growing Assaf Lambs – Egyptian research) produced significant improvements in conversion efficiency of the feed. As well as additional weight gain of animals compared to individuals kept in cohort groups kept and fed in the same way, yet minus the honey wax extract. The amounts fed were also quite small – around 4g honey comb extract per lamb per day.

Entirely anecdotally, my own respiratory problem as a non-smoker, gradually worsening over many years (COPD) has resolved completely, much to my surprise, since we began to eat our honey in this way – half a teaspoon 3 times daily for me. (Though I should add that at the same time we began relatively high dose vitamin D and K2 supplementation – between 4,000 in the summer, and 8,000 i.u. daily from September to April). I am posting this simply to flag up real clinical benefits which I have experienced. Not to make any wider medical claims, or advocate its use by others. 😊

Some will think that this is contentious stuff. I just ask myself the question, “I wonder why the large organisations which control most of the medical research funding in the West don’t seem to have commissioned more investigative work in this field.”  Given that the general benefits of untreated raw honey as a nutritional and medicinal aid have been recognised for Millenia. See here (Exploiting the polyphenolic potential of honey in the prevention of chronic diseases – Indian authors)  and here (Honey and Health: A Review of Recent Clinical Research – Iranian authors). 

 

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For my musical interlude, and as a segue into my final section on October Views, I’m going to explore the idea of cultural depth and links for a nation. This was brought to mind by a number of recent events, not least the massive commercial and euphoric popular success of Taylor Swift’s recent 8 sell out visits to Wembley stadium this summer. For anyone outside the UK, and for posterity, heck, it even hit the political frontline with many of the new government from our Prime Minister down, being given free tickets to shows. In some cases multiple tickets. Lest, like me, you wonder what the fuss and hype was all about, I’ll offer a link to this YouTube 

For a video that has been watched over 20 million times in a month, for a song titled “I can do it with a broken heart”. From her new album titled “The Tortured Poet’s Department”. I don’t have to risk incurring the wrath of ‘swifties’ or her no doubt super efficient legal department by including the ‘poetic’ lyrics to her song. You can read them on the subtitled video easily enough. And reflect. On the power of such music and performance, sufficient to get the higher echelons of HM Government to bend the rules and offer her unprecedented VIPP motorcycle security from airport to stadium. This seems to be contemporary global performance culture writ large.

But what do the ‘poetic’ lyrics and scantily clad dancers tell us about such cultural influences. Are they positive, or not? Far be it for me as a G.O.G (Grumpy Old Git) to answer that directly.

Instead, I’ll paint a different picture. A regular weekly events email from our excellent local(ish) arts centre, Mwldan in Cardigan. Flagging up a folk singer Steve Knightley’s visit last week at the beginning of his latest national tour promoting his new album. I’d never heard of him. We’d never been to a folk concert. But I read a few great reviews from famous names who should know about such things, watched the promotional video below, for ‘The Winter Yards’, liked it on many levels, so bought a couple of tickets, and off we went.

Unlike swifties heading to Wembley and all that might entail, we’re lucky enough to enjoy a fabulous drive over Mynydd Llanllwni, stopping at the wonderful Coracle chippie on the hill out of Llechryd (best ever fish & Chips with a slice of lemon, should you wish and fish – individually temperature probe cooked to order). Driving on through Cardigan we headed for a car park at Gwbert overlooking Poppit Sands, just as the dropping sun was lighting up the clouds above the sea to the West, and in time to see a procession of hundreds of gulls flying down the Teifi estuary from the wetlands near Cilgerran, I guess, to roost on Cardigan Island. (Thanks to Fiona and her phone for the photo above).

5 minutes drive and we were back at the Mwldan, and looking forward to the concert.

An extraordinary one man band performance, from an artist who, it turns out is now 70, and has been performing gigs such as this one in mainly small venues for well over 30 years. We’ve arrived amongst his fan base too late to catch his primary musical outfit “Show Of Hands”. Here he played with Phil Beer, as multi-talented a stringed instrument player as Knightley, and sometimes with Miranda Sykes on double bass. They performed their last show this July.

I should add that they market themselves entirely independently, and indeed booked themselves into The Albert Hall for 6 sell out concerts over the years. How about this for a song – but not before a significant proposal.

At which events they no doubt played, as Steve Knightley did for us, one of their best known songs ‘Roots’. He led into the song with a little background. He composed it around 2006, in part ‘inspired’ by the parliamentary comments of (Welsh) labour minister Kim Howell, during a debate to tighten the licensing laws for live music in pubs. Howells said that his idea of hell would be listening to 3 Somerset folk singers in a pub.

Which was clearly a bit of a red rag to this local-venue-playing, Devon-based songwriter/performer. I’d argue that, after immersing myself in Knightley’s work over the last few days, most of his lyrics seem to be, (whisper it ) more poetically crafted than TS’s, and often centred on life stories or history a very long way from our urban metropolises. And certainly few, if any, about broken love affairs.

I’m going to risk quoting a few of Knightley’s “Roots” lyrics,

And a minister said his vision of hell
Is three folk singers in a pub near Wells
Well, I’ve got a vision of urban sprawl
There’s pubs where no-one ever sings at all
And everyone stares at a great big screen
Overpaid soccer stars, prancing teens
Australian soap, American rap
Estuary English, baseball caps
And we learn to be ashamed before we walk
Of the way we look, and the way we talk
Without our stories or our songs
How will we know where we come from?
I’ve lost St. George and the Union Jack
That’s my flag too and I want it back

Seed, bark, flower, fruit
Never gonna grow without their roots
Branch, stem, shoot
We need roots

And then challenge you to listen/watch their official YouTube. But be warned.

We both find it a very powerful foot-thumping earworm.

24,000 views in 11 years? I think it’s overdue for a re-rating.

And then buy or download one of their excellent albums from the band’s website. although you might have to find a second hand copy. They tightly control the whole enterprise themselves with their own label. Or check out the remaining concerts in Steve’s tour and book a ticket. There won’t be as much noise, light, dance or glitz as TS, but I’d guarantee an enjoyable evening with diverse, classy songs of many genres, from a consummate performer and songwriter. Whose finger is definitely on the pulses of a lot of people.

Intriguingly, and I only discovered this in writing this post up, Knightley and the group had the last laugh with Howells – perhaps. Sadly the full article is hidden behind a paywall on this Cambridge University site.  But there is an abstract available under the title:

Drink, song and disorder: the sorry saga of the Licensing Act 2003

My parting thought is to wonder why performers like Knightley and Show of Hands have managed to stay off my radar for so long. And how is it that their video has such low viewing figures? In some ways I sense that in recent times the words could be perceived to have (can I venture), a slightly non-PC slant.

Though dig around the backstory to Knightley and his performing life, charitable works and other artistic endeavours, and you’d be hard pressed not to think he’s a paragon of creative English, or even British, musical endeavour. Heck, I’m certain that if he were Scottish or Welsh, he’d have been officially knighted by now. Although whether he’d want to accept such patronage is another matter entirely. Perhaps his name is sufficient. And perhaps Ted Hughes was a great judge of character from many years ago. As Knightley recalls on his own website:

“Still just 15, Knightley attended a residential creative writing course organised by the Arvon Foundation in Beaford, North Devon. Finding his plan for a week-long piss-up with his mates derailed by the inspiration he drew from the work, Knightley was moved to write songs and poetry. At the week’s end, Hughes arrived. In the Victorian drawing room of the old vicarage, by the hearth of an open fire, the great poet read out his work to the students. They then read out their poems to him and Knightley “strummed a few songs and read some stuff.”

Hughes asked, “What’s your name, son?”

“Steve Knightley.”

“No, no, what’s your full name?”

“Steven Andrew Knightley.”

“The Celts,” said Hughes, “would say if you gave a man your full name, he had your soul.” He stretched out his hand and closed it as if catching a fly. “Now then, I’ve got yours.”

Knightley then read everything by Hughes and his contemporaries, George Barker, Louis MacNeice, George MacBeth.”

Do I smell something fishy in the establishment going on behind the scenes, fearing some of Knightley’s output is too provocative?

(Perhaps the discovery, again late in the evening, that along the way after publishing ‘Roots’, Knightley and Beer had to take legal action to prevent the British National Party from using their song in promotional ways, indicates the dilemma for anyone venturing into these subjects. At least in England. And heck, this was all nearly 20 years ago. Times have hardly improved recently, I’d say).

However it does seem strange, at least to me, that for an Englishman, composing in England, to venture into such subject matter should be so fraught. Even if the group’s fans love the song.

Contrast that with this the Welsh folk song by Dafydd Iwan, ‘Yma O Hydd’, now the go to song to gee up the Welsh National Soccer team and their fans, before international games.

But then there’s long been a Welsh National Party (Plaid Cymru), and indeed a Scottish National Party. Both happily encouraged to achieve greater influence through Tony Blair’s devolution Act to exist within Great Britain. What about the English, might be the not unreasonable question which Knightley and Beer are hinting at. All of this got me thinking about the somewhat confusing senses of nationality within the United kingdom. Or is that the British Isles. Or even Great Britain. Is one English, Welsh, Scottish or British? Or both? I clearly needed a better historical grasp of what has happened relating to these questions in the last 1,000 years.

And came up with this perhaps helpful map. (Colour tweaked by me from a Wikipedia page)  Although I feel that Wales will feel very undersold in this portrayal, given their own detailed records of their nation’s early history before the Act of Union of 1536 – essentially an act of annexation by Henry VIII

But enough of this speculative diversion. If you’ve never heard of Knightley or Show of Hands before, I hope it’s been as much of a revelation to you as it has been to me. I’m sure the same won’t apply to TS – it’s quite difficult to escape her omnipresent musical status.

And if it’s all old hat, sincere apologies.

And…

To counter the thought that I’m becoming too contemporary in my musical tastes, here’s a sublime piece of music and performance with, again, apparently shockingly low viewing figures.

Complex music composed by Chopin at a time after he had been significantly affected by the events of the November uprising of 1830 in his native Poland, together with his lukewarm reception in his then adopted, foreign, Viennese base. (Interesting resonances of the influence of nationality and cultural history on creative musical output?)

These 4 Scherzi require stunning, challenging playing with demonic interludes alternating with sublime melodies. Played sequentially, as here, they create a symphonic like unique sweep of piano music. Recorded in a beautiful Italian venue with wonderful video and sound.

High romantic culture? Or a contemporary high-brow irrelevance? 2,500 views in 2 years? Probably about what I’d expect. I hope anyone getting this far might increase the figures by watching at least a part of it.

The 4 Scherzi form the last part of the this excellent CD of Chopin works played by Beatrice Rana, which I’ve mentioned previously.

 

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Early October has given me 3 fabulous sunrises. 3 mornings when from around 7.15 to 8.15 I’ve been happy to stand with the camera on the tripod, set the timer for long exposure shots, and marvel and snap the dramas that unfold in entirely unpredictable ways, as clouds drift in and out, dissipate or coalesce, and the rising sun works its double colour wave magic.

Any single image would be a marvellous record of the event. Zoomed in, or out.

Though none come close to the totality of the experience of standing still. And watching.

I’ve reflected on just how fortunate we are, and have been to live in such a wonderful part of the world, where one can experience such events without fear or tension. And it’s made me more aware of how rare that is for many in today’s world. The final part of this post is a simple list of links, for a personal record, of discussions and books I’ve read over the last few weeks.

In an attempt to get some sort of grasp on what seem to me to be a couple of major issues confronting Britain, and more widely Western culture and civilisation. Namely the conflict in Israel and Palestine, and the not entirely dissociated issue of rising antisemitism and islamophobia.

In chronological order of my own journey, trying to use intelligent, educated sources as markers for me to formulate my own views on these issues (which I’ve avoided thinking about for far too long), these links have turned out to be the most helpful. At least for me.

A Call to the Sane – Beauty, Truth, & Purpose –  An interview with author/academic Douglas Murray

The War on the West – Douglas Murray

Submission – Michel Houellebecq

Interview with Ayaan Hirsii Ali (biography) : click here for her views on the significance of the concept of dawah. Perhaps she’s justified in having clear views about this?

After the treason of the intellectuals. Founder’s speech by her( Ali’s) husband, Professor Sir Niall Ferguson on why he’s been driven to establish a new university in the U.S.A.

The horrors of Oct 7 – as told by the survivors – Allison Pearson

Israel wants to make this the last war – Melanie Phillips

Londonistan (2008) – Melanie Phillips

October 7th, England. One year on – Substack article – Winston Marshall.

None of this is comfortable or easy bed time reading or listening.

Others would no doubt choose their own pieces, to reflect their own positions. Different views, different slants.

My purpose is to simply flag up that far more intelligent and educated thinkers than me, some with much wider knowledge and historical perspectives, seem to view such issues as worthy of serious reflection. I’ve formed my own views, and won’t be hiding my head in the moss any more. Submission? Prophetic for Britain, too? I do hope not.

Partly as a consequence of touching on these topics (a first for me), I’ve just joined the Free Speech Union. Readers unfamiliar with it might be interested in one of its founders, Toby Young’s short video on the link page, explaining why he feels the organisation has a vital role to play in today’s Great Britain. Or British Isles. Or United Kingdom. Or beyond!

To circle back to where I began this post.

After all this time, why did it surface now?