Fox among the sheep

The countryside can be full of surprises.  Last Monday, an ordinary walk through pastureland at Purlieu Farm, near Lydney, turned into one that we are unlikely to forget.  Fortunately, I had my camera, with its nice zoom lens, at the ready.

A fox, sunning itself in a field.  Sheep and lambs nearby seem unconcerned.

Foxy stirs and has a scratch.

One sheep finally takes exception to the interloper and shoos it away.

Foxy retreats, in search of somewhere quieter.

Lydbrook with Lucy

There's a spot near Lydbrook, on the River Wye, to which I'm often drawn.  Like many of my favourite spots, it combines beauty, tranquility and history in equal proportions, so when Lucy Melford asked to see it, during her visit last week, I took no persuading. 

This old aerial photo gives a good idea of the place. That's Edison Swan's cable works on the right. Among the many products manufactured there was the fuel pipeline laid between England and France after the D-Day landings. The railway in the foreground ran between Monmouth and Ross-on-Wye.  Both factory and railway closed in 1965.

Today the factory lies derelict and the railway bridge has become part of the Wye Valley Walk.

Here's a view, looking upstream from the old railway bridge, which has definitely seen better days. Thankfully the walkway side is in better repair.  Lucy was intrigued by the sapling on the left, which appears to be growing out of solid wood... or perhaps not so solid.

Lucy, on the Welsh Bicknor side of the river. Several Internet accounts of the Ross-Monmouth railway call this bridge Lydbrook Viaduct.  With Lydbrook Tunnel to the left and Lydbrook Junction to the right, they might be forgiven for their error, though one account even includes a photo of the actual Lydbrook Viaduct (on the nearby Severn & Wye Railway line), which was demolished in 1965. It certainly pays to take any 'facts' one reads on the Internet with a large pinch of salt, especially in blogs. O crumbs... I may be writing rubbish too. Perish the thought!  

We briefly explored Lydbrook Tunnel, but were not tempted to venture far into its murky depths. Instead, we took a leisurely stroll along the river bank. "What's that big black bird on the treetop?" asked Lucy as we retraced our steps.  Here was my chance to show off my wizzy camera, so I braced myself against a tree trunk, aimed the lens at the mystery creature and zoomed in.  On the fifth attempt I got the little blighter. A cormorant, I reckon, though remember what I just said about Internet 'facts'. For all I know, it might be a shag, though surely not this far inland.  

Quite suddenly, I felt a poem coming on:

The common cormorant or shag

lays eggs in a paper bag.

The reason you will see no doubt

it is to keep the lightning out.

But what these unobservant birds

have failed to notice is that herds

of wandering bears may come with buns

and steal the bags to hold the crumbs.  

(Christopher Isherwood)

Welsh Bicknor Church.  Just out of shot on the left is Welsh Bicknor Youth Hostel, where they serve very tasty ice creams to foot-weary adventurers and cormorant-spotters.  Incidentally, Welsh Bicknor is in England these days, as is English Bicknor, a few miles up the road.

All through the night

Had you predicted, last September when I enrolled on a Beginners' Ukulele Course, that I would make it to the advanced level two terms later, I'd probably have laughed. I would also have told you that I had no plans to progress beyond simple strumming and learning a handful of basic chords — sufficient to impress my uke-playing son, but no more. And had you thus predicted, you would have been right and I very wrong.

Yes, my ukulele lessons have recommenced, and I'm astonished to be on the Advanced Course.  The basics of ukulele playing have been learned and now it's time to consolidate those skills and tackle some more demanding pieces — a new one each week. In preparation, and in an attempt to get a bit of a head start, I bought a book of fingerstyle solos and have been learning a couple during the Easter break.  'Fingerstyle', by the way, entails the playing individual notes of a song, and not just the chords. I began with that classic piece, beloved (or is it 'loathed'?) of all budding ukulele players — Twinkle, twinkle, little star, then progressed to my favourite, so far, the Welsh song Ar Hyd y Nos (All Through the Night).  I've even added a few notes of my own to the published arrangement. Impressive, or what?

The first line of Ar Hyd y Nos with 'improvements' at my own fair hand

Practicing All Through the Night (read that
either way you wish).  The bottle in the
background is already empty.  'Nuff said!

So far, only three of us from last term's Improvers' Course have joined this one.  That's a big disappointment, as I'd grown used to them, formed a couple friendships and stopped worrying what they all thought about me.  This group is very different, as was evident even before the lesson started. When I arrived, a couple of guys were twanging their ukes very expertly, and definitely with far more finesse than my faltering attempts at All through the night.  Indeed, most of the group appear to be doing the course for at least the second time, or have already honed their skills elsewhere. One lady was even being congratulated on performing a solo piece at a local pub over the Easter break.  All extremely daunting, and my confidence took an immediate knock. I also felt that they were sizing me up and wondering what to make of me. Thankfully, though, Matt (our tutor) opened by explaining that, as three of us had come from the Improvers' Course, he would be taking things steadily and not assuming too much prior knowledge. Phew!

Perhaps being plunged into a group of clever folk will do me good, once I calm my nerves and settle to it.  As Matt often reminds us, he can only teach so much. The rest is down to us, with lots and lots of practice. If I'm to catch up that lot, it'll probably have to be all through the night!