Wednesday, 25 May 2016

Dirty British Coaster - A bit more poetry by John Masefield

 The ships out at sea heading into The Port of Felixstowe are no longer Dirty British Coasters but ships like Majestic Mearsk a huge container vessel approximately 399 metres long, 44 metres wide, carrying 194,000 tonnes of c**p from Asia that will be on the shelves of a shop near you in a week or two.

That very small boat behind the monster is the Pilot boat which comes out from the port with the Pilot to guide the container ship safely into dock.

I suppose in fairness it may contain a few useful things - clothes perhaps? but I bet a lot is stuff people buy and then throw out a year or two later!

Some of these containers will go by train but most will be on the backs of lorries heading through Suffolk and all round the country.

I remember this poem from primary school.


Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir,
Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine,
With a cargo of ivory,
And apes and peacocks,
Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine.

Stately Spanish galleon coming from the Isthmus,
Dipping through the Tropics by the palm-green shores,
With a cargo of diamonds,
Emeralds, amythysts,
Topazes, and cinnamon, and gold moidores.

Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke stack,
Butting through the Channel in the mad March days,
With a cargo of Tyne coal,
Road-rails, pig-lead,
Firewood, iron-ware, and cheap tin trays

I shall be back with a diary post at the end of the week

Monday, 23 May 2016

(Take Three) It's only a small garden but......

............the list of what we have growing is even longer

Thanks to everyone for comments about all the mystery things in the garden.

 Now I can add Centuarea, Mock Orange and Lychnis to my definite list and a possible Jasmine.
Pat said one was a polemonium, so I looked that up but I don't think the leaves are right for that , they are too grey, although I hope it is.
Also not sure about Lysimanchia that Sheila said for one picture either although again I hope it is - very colourful
My sister looked at the things I said were like garlic chives and said Aliums. My only experience of Aliums is big showy globes but I've searched through google pictures and found they are Allium Roseum or ornamental rosy garlic, so she was right.

And here are more that I've found or forgot to list the other day.

1 small sad Hosta
A rhododendron ( restrained in an old wooden tub - luckily)

A small conifer that isn't a leylandii
Perennial wallflowers - I think
2 very small Hydrangeas
A label for a Penstemon beside something half dead under some borage!
Another Fushcia
A Huge Broom right at the back - mostly dead
A Spirea? possibly, although perhaps too tall.

Have attempted a small video here, no idea if it will work or not.


And I've not even mentioned the shrubs that are out the front of the bungalow!

Many Thanks for comments. More poetry, photos and probably book reviews coming later. We are hoping that Col will finally get in for the 6th chemo session one day this week and I need to sort a dentist for us. Seems we have a choice of 3 withing walking distance - how easy life is in town!

Back Soon

Saturday, 21 May 2016

We go down to the sea again, the lonely sea and the sky

Yesterday with Col still waiting to go for the 6th chemo cycle and the weather not too bad we packed some lunch and nipped down to the beach hut.
It was deserted, except for dog walkers and walkers without dogs
Took my big camera and zoomed in on this big ol' gull

The windbreak is ours - not a soul in sight at any of the other huts( except a man doing repairs down the end)

 Sailors going into the sailing club on the River Deben

The sandbank is Felixstowe side of the Deben and the trees in the distance are Bawdsey on the other side of the river Bawdsey is famous for being the birthplace of Radar during WWII
The post title comes with apologies to John Masefield!

Sea Fever
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

Back Tomorrow