Friday Photo(s) #79

Last week I took a bus over to the town I work in and walked home along country footpaths. I've done the jaunt before, more than once, but was trying out a new route this time. I estimated that it would take around 1¾ hours and for the first few miles all was going swimmingly, then I hit the first of two sweetcorn fields I'd have to cross. Footpaths should be maintained by the land owner, regardless of whether or not there's a crop in the field, so I followed the wooden 'Public Footpath' sign into the field, which was only slightly overgrown at this point. As I pressed on, the worn down path beneath my feet became gradually less obvious as previous walkers had presumably given up the ghost and turned round. By the time I realised that the footpath was completely gone and I couldn't actually walk any further, the sweetcorn surrounding me was over head height - I felt disorientated and even a little panicky. For the photo below I was holding the camera up over my head and shooting blind. It took me some time to hack my way out, imagining I was roughly retracing my steps, but I actually emerged from the corn some distance from where I entered it, such was my disorientation. Long story short, taking a series of alternative footpaths around the field instead of walking across it added considerably to my step count. 

Fortunately the second sweetcorn field, a mile or so further on, was perfectly maintained, offering a clear cut footpath straight through the middle of the towering crop - you can see it disappearing into the distance in the photo at the top of this post. A short while later however, the next phase of my pre-planned walk was scuppered by a stretch of country footpath that had been officially closed by the Parish Council, damaged by off-road vehicles apparently, necessitating yet another detour for me. I eventually arrived home, wearier than anticipated, more than three hours after setting off.

Here's The Coral, summoning the spirit of early Pink Floyd I feel, with an appropriately titled tune from their 2004 LP 'Nightfreak and the Sons of Becker'.

Song of the Corn

Friday Photo(s) #61

Just lately I've been spending more time than usual in London. My aunt is having a few health issues and my cousin has had to fly in from America to monitor the situation. I've bombed down the M11 at every opportunity over the past month or so to give them both a bit of moral support (I'm heading down again today). During this uncertain period, my cousin is also working all hours, including seemingly endless daily conference calls carried out on New York time. To see an unwell aunt and a horribly stressed out cousin without really being able to do anything to help either is upsetting to say the least. 

One day, while my cousin was up to her neck in unfathomably complicated technical discussions with multiple colleagues scattered around the globe and with the relentless rain briefly pausing, I took myself off to the East Ham Nature Reserve to clear my head. The reserve winds through the defunct 9 acre graveyard of an 800 year old church and in spite of incessant A13 traffic hammering across the flyover a few yards to the South and planes from the nearby London City Airport roaring overhead, it's a relative oasis of calm amid the turmoil of life.

Jape - Graveyard

Friday Photo #6

The Angles Way kicks off at Great Yarmouth and finishes, 77 miles later, at Knettishall Heath Nature Reserve near Thetford. Apparently it takes between 28-36 hours to walk the entire length of The Angles Way, but it's the dozen or so miles of the footpath that wind around my part of the world that I'm most familiar with. I took today's photos on the stretch that passes very close to my gaff, before it snakes off round the river and out into the countryside. The curve of this branch fascinates me and I find myself photographing it often - these two shots, one from each direction, were actually taken several months apart (click on them to enlarge). My instinct is to say that the bend in the branch was created over the years by endless walkers pushing it upwards or aside as they pass by, but perhaps it's just an interesting quirk of nature. The shape allows me to pass by in comfort anyway - no exaggerated bending of my 6ft+ frame required here.

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To accompany the photos, a tune. 'Bend the Tree' appeared on the b-side of 'Ratchet Knife' (a different song using the same tune) in 1969, one of only two singles released by the mysterious Amiel Moodie & the Dandemites. It's a bit of rarity too. According to the Discogs listing, a mere 17 lucky people own the original 7" and 547 are on the lookout for a copy. Good luck with that. Only one has ever changed hands on the site and that was nearly two years ago. It went for a whopping £216.

Amiel Moodie & the Dandemites - Bend the Tree

Walkin' Up a One-Way Street

I've had a lot of overtime recently, covering a mixture of staff sickness and colleagues finally feeling able to make some use of their annual leave. The last couple of weeks have been pretty full-on actually and several days went by where I didn't even open the laptop once. Yesterday was a day off though, one that I was determined not to waste. In the event however, I dragged my aching bones out of bed, plonked myself down in the garden with a pot of coffee and sank into a morning of utter lethargy.

By midday I was fuming at myself for my inactivity, yet still struggled to find adequate reserves of energy or enthusiasm to move. I knew that getting out for a walk would do me the world of good, but couldn't quite gee myself up for it. Finally, I dragged myself to my feet muttering '...just to the end of the lane and back then...' - twenty minutes of movement, max.

Almost the instant I stepped across the threshold of the house I felt better. In the end I roamed off the beaten track for over four hours, barely seeing another soul and in the process discovering a couple of remote footpaths that were new to me, which considering I've been wandering around this area for almost nine years is really quite amazing. The day wasn't wasted after all.

'Walking Up a One-Way Street' is a fabulous 1965 Willie Tee b-side that can more easily be found on the 2001 'In Crowd - Mod Collection' box set.

Willie Tee - Walkin' Up a One-Way Street

Free to Walk

Over the past few weeks of lockdown, a number of blogging chums have shared glimpses of their daily walks, bike rides or runs. Most recently it was Swiss Adam who detailed his walking routes through the nearby Ees (a word I'd never come across before) and posted a gorgeous sunset photo (along with a fantastic old Dub Syndicate tune). His summation struck a chord - '...this is now life in 2020...taking the time under these restrictions to appreciate what's on your doorstep...'

If the pandemic hadn't happened, I would've hoped that by now I'd be well on my way to selling this house and shipping out, leaving the ghosts and painful memories behind me, but, in these extraordinary circumstances, I count my blessings that I have a roof over my head and a job a mile down the road which allows me to legitimately get out and interact for a few hours on most days of the week - I'm all too aware that many are not so fortunate. And, returning to Swiss Adam's theme, I also truly appreciate what's on my doorstep. Attached are a few snaps, captured on my phone, from recent wanderings.

Isobel Campbell and Mark Lanegan - Free to Walk

Saturday Musings

I've had the week off - actually I'm still off and don't go back to work until Thursday. I've been hard at it for the past few months, taking every hour of overtime I've been offered, keeping mind and body occupied, so I was pretty knackered and ready for a break. Of course as soon as I stopped, I immediately became incredibly anxious and stressed, unhappy in my own skin and missing the person who is no longer sharing my life more than ever. So, each morning for the first half of the week, I took myself off to one of the many nature reserves in this part of the world, where I found myself able to embrace my solitude by simply walking, breathing and being - for hours at a time. It was some kind of wonderful I can tell you. Of course I had to return to the pain of my actual existence eventually, but those walks were encouragingly positive glimpses into a reality beyond the one I find myself trapped in at the moment.

Then on Wednesday evening I went to see Rozi Plain play in Norwich and on Thursday ventured down to my old hometown of Ipswich to catch her in concert again. Long suffering visitors to this place will already be all too aware of my immense adoration of Rozi's music. Today I'm off to Cambridge, to reconnect with my old buddy Robyn Hitchcock. Then, after a Sunday lunch in the company of a group of old friends, on Monday morning I'll be winding my way down to this nation's capitol to catch Robyn again for what is being touted as something of a career retrospective show at the Union Chapel, where he'll apparently be joined by guests aplenty, including more than one fellow former Soft Boy. It's all very exciting stuff for this old Fegmaniac.

I won't go on and on, but please allow me to reiterate once again how very humbled and grateful I am for every single message of moral support that has been sent in my direction following the recent posts regarding my personal circumstances. I appreciate every kind word more than you could possibly imagine. I'm appalling company at the moment, really dreadful, collapsing into a sobbing heap without warning at every turn, but one day, one day, I hope I'll be able to express my gratitude to at least some of you personally.

Rozi Plain - There Is No Sun

Up Hill and Down Dale

North Norfolk. Vast empty beaches, big skies and....hills? Yup, North Norfolk has its fair share of leg-burners, we know, we walked a few of 'em. They may not stack up to much in comparison to those in Singing Bear's gloriously mountainous neck of the woods, but the long inclines certainly take it out of you after a few hours on the go. Luckily, there was always a cold beer on the porch of our cabin to look forward to at the end of each day, before we rested up and hit the road for more of the same the following morning.

Out Of Town

By the time you read this, Mrs S and I should, all being well, be in the middle of a short stay on the North Norfolk coast. Our destination is only an hour and a bit away from Swede Towers, but rather than coming and going, we thought we'd snag a B&B for a couple of nights and make a break of it. The plan, as always, is for a bit of walking, a bit of eating and, who knows, maybe even a bit of drinking, though these days anything more than a couple of glasses of wine at one sitting sends us quickly on our way to snoozeville - lightweights!

My CD collection is still (still!) stored away in the spare room following our move in 2011, but whenever we travel I always have a fish about in the boxes and grab a few albums for the road. For this trip I've also lovingly hand-crafted a couple of brand new CDr compilations, the first in absolutely years. Here's a great live version of a tune that made the tracklist of one of those compilations, 'Hinterland' by Lonelady, a firm favourite round these parts since its release in March.

55 From 55 - 2013

55 songs in 55 days - one for every year of my life...so far. 

When he was young, fit and able, Dad loved to walk. The chronic leg problems he suffered in later life were a particularly cruel blow. By the end he was struggling to even shuffle around the house. I, on the other hand, would rarely walk if there was some form of transportation available. I was lazy and I didn't see the point. Gradually, though, during my late 30's and early 40's, I began to see the point. And now, getting out and stretching my legs is a fundamental part of my day. Even if I don't have a planned destination, I do it just to walk, something I wouldn't have dreamed of when I was younger, fitter and more able..

Over the past year, hugely inspired by similar posts from blogging chums C and Singing Bear, I've taken my camera out with me upon occasion and shared the results. Here's a walk from July 2014. The reason I mention this now, is that during the course of my research for this series I unearthed a set of photos taken on the self-same circular riverside route 16 months earlier, in January 2013, not long after a coating of snow. You might even be able to recognise a few of the locations if you flick between the two sets. Our part of the world has been almost entirely snow-free since then. Click on any of the shots to blow 'em up.

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In this series I've featured Pop, Rock, Reggae,Dark Country, Minimal Techno, Motorik Madness and Jazzy Post Rock, so since we're nearing the end, how about a little 21st Century Prog? 'The Mardi Gras Turned Ugly In Seconds' is taken from Regal Worm's debut LP 'Use And Ornament'. Hear more of this band's incredible music on their Bandcamp page (here).

Walking in Circles, Again

Encouraged by recent inspiring posts from chums over at Sun Dried Sparrows and Grown Up Backwards, I've been digging around in my hard drive to find the photos from a couple of local walks I took last year. This first set is from the evening of August 31st, just as the nights were beginning to draw in. Click on any photo to enlarge it. More to follow soon.

Accompanying the visuals is Greek post-rocker George Mastrokostas, trading as Absent Without Leave, with the appropriately titled 'Evening Walks', from 2008. Find more Absent Without Leave music here.

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I featured a river walk last time, but this one takes me in the other direction, East. First though, I head out over the marsh.

Swinging left, away from the road, I cross a field and arrive at the river. Look at the length of my shadow. This is a fairly long walk and the sun is already low, though this heron has found a few evening sunbeams to bask in.

All is quiet at the quay. The sign shows me the way.

This is a circular walk and I still have a long way to go until I reach the halfway point, but the sun is already dipping below the horizon. This stretch of river is far more open than the area I walked through last time.

I wonder why this cow is looking so intently in my direction, when suddenly there's a gentle whoosh over my right shoulder. The cow wasn't looking at me, it had seen a barn owl crossing from the other side of the river. It pauses for a breather on a post right next to the cow.

I've never seen a barn owl quartering on this stretch before and I click ecstatically, capturing absolutely nothing but fresh air on my camera, so I give up and for several minutes silently watch the beautiful creature in action. Finding no success in its search for food, the owl swings back across the river just ahead of me and I manage to secure a couple of blurred images.

After about a mile, I leave the river, clamber over a crooked style and negotiate that rarest of all terrains in this area - a hill!

Well this is what constitutes a hill round these parts anyway! And I get a good view back along the first half of my journey from the top.

I love this dirt lane. I like to imagine that this was once a main thoroughfare, frequented by highwaymen lying in wait for a passing horse-drawn carriage - perhaps I've been out on my own for too long! It is becoming very dark.

Even the animals in surrounding fields wonder what on Earth I'm doing out in the middle of nowhere at this hour.

Passing birds form an arrow in the sky - though pointing in the wrong direction! Fortunately the sign on this gatepost tells me all I need to know.

In the a glade on the other side of the long hedge on the right, the evening calls of birds and other animals echo in a spooky cacophony. To my left, a lovely location for an owl box, though I've never seen it in use.

I've been out for well over an hour and as I near civilization, a mist begins to gather on the marsh. A final signpost looms out of the gloom.

I practically have to feel my way across the last short stretch of field towards the houses in the distance. This footpath brings me out in the middle of the village and the warm glow of our nearest streetlight, a few hundred yards from home.