I put my hands up. I might poke a bit of fun at my county of birth. Well actually a lot. Yes the weather can be grim, the people can be a bit odd (me certainly included), we might be a little behind the cutting edge, probably spend too much time focusing on the past BUT….
It is a great place to live and visit. So much history, beautiful brooding landscapes, welcoming, diverse, a wonderful quirkiness and a place that has definitely left its mark on the world. So maybe every so often I should really show and tell the good about Yorkshire.
So here goes. I give you just a fraction of what Yorkshire has to offer.
This photo was taken 4 years ago to the day. A day in October. A day early in my grief journey. A moment in our family history.
Time to turn back the hands of the clock back to before the Second World War. To another moment in our family history.
October 19th, 1936. Chesterfield to Mansfield.
From the 5th to 31st, the Jarrow March took place. 200 men walked 300 miles from the north eastern town of Jarrow to London. Jarrow was like many northern towns in that period. Bleak, stagnant and forgotten. The impact of a world wide depression was hitting this area hard. There was no employment. Unemployment was endemic. In Jarrow the unemployment rate was near 70%. The Government seemingly did not care, blind to the suffering. The Government even blocked loans that would have saved the town’s industries. Rising anger at gross inequality and injustice. The growth of racism and extreme right wing politics.
That was the context as 200 men set off on their crusade. A peaceful and dignified protest, carrying a 12000 signature petition asking for their industry to be reopened. A simple message. We want to work. We want hope.
The marchers were treated as heroes on the route. Galvanised a growing mood in the country. The petition was handed into the government with so much dignity and respect. In the short term the March failed. The Baldwin Conservative Government brushed the march and the petition aside. Clearly in their eyes some people were more equal than others. But in the long run the Jarrow March delivered. It set a new agenda. After the war the new Labour Government set about writing the wrongs. A comprehensive welfare state was introduced. Government with a conscious was established. One that cared for the less fortunate. Sadly a conscious which has started to be unpicked and now unravelled.
We live in a time of rising unemployment. Inequality and injustice are ripe. The growth of extreme politics. Sound familiar. We could learn so much from the Jarrow March. A Crusade marked down in English history. A family history as well. My family was on that march.
This is a little tree which is close to our house. It sits at the side of the farmers field which backs onto our garden. It’s close by as a couple of my garden football shots have nearly hit it….. In the years that we have lived here it has never grown. It just seems to lean over a little further each year. I know how it feels…..
So many questions today. So many school work queries.
“Dad what are your thoughts on Gladstone‘s and Disraeli‘s political reforming achievements. They didn’t go far enough and do you think their colonial record negated what good they did do?”
“Dad what do you know about DNA structure and it’s impact on identical and fraternal twins?”
“Dad how would you write the mass of the earth in standard notation?”
“Dad in Animal Farmwhat does the character Moses represent and his relationship toSoviet history?”
“Dad have you ever studied John Agard’s poem FLAGS. Is it about the dangers of patriotism?”
“Dad I can’t get my head round French Verb Conjugation. Can you explain it to me?
As any self respecting parent would do I looked suitably vacant and thought wishfully back to the questions about which was my favourite Tellytubby. I was good at those questions.
I was checking my phone for a photo for the blog and I came across this one. Yes Hawklad has been playing Pokémon Go again. Either that or my last selfie was a bit of a shocker.
I am listening to a cheery Pearl Jam cd and thinking about family history. For a lesson today he is trying to list some of his family tree. It’s easy with my partner as we can go back at least 300 years. Lots of documented history. Long line of Quaker and Liberal Political tradition. An MP. With mine it’s more patchy. Yes we can go back to someone born in 1805 but there are lots of blanks. Someone who refereed a big national football semifinal. Someone who walked on the Jarrow Poverty March. A female relative who went to be an exotic dancer in London at the turn of the last century. Someone who was gassed in World War One and survived. An uncle of mine who was a pilot during the Korean War. My Dad who fell in love with Iceland while serving during World War Two. But that’s about it. So many gaps.
So as Hawklad thinks about being partly English, Welsh, Scottish and German (maybe even more diverse), I have a new project. Time to try and fill in some of these family gaps. I owe that to my son.
It’s so important that we keep our own history alive because it forms a narrative to how we are.
This is the kind of house that just seems to encourage losing things. Lots of things. Which is remarkable when you consider it’s smallish bungalow. Including the garage and the loft, we only have 8 locations for stuff to mysteriously disappear. But it does. All the time.
The house is the home just to boys these days. That includes the pets. So we can definitely say that THE BOYS HAVE LOST THINGS.
Already today we couldn’t find
Hawklads FIFA 20 games disk,
The new pack of Weetabix,
My bank card to pay for something online,
My car key,
One of my socks – followed instantly by shouting at the dog,
A black pen. Can find loads of other colours but not a black pen which Hawklad needs to do a little homework,
My new pack of tea,
The laptop – how can you lose a laptop….
A pair of scissors,
My fitness band,
The WiFi passkey,
The new pack of batteries I bought on Thursday,
The book I’ve been trying to read for a couple of months now, frustratingly I only have 4 pages to go. It went missing while I was reading in bed. It has been lost for weeks. Ransacked the bedroom today, still no sign. It’s a rubbish crime story but I just want to find out who did it…..
That’s a typical day here. Boys will be boys….
But at least we found time to talk today. We ended up talking about our lockdown and the stuff that we miss. The things we have lost in our own little worlds. For me it was being around people.
Running in the countryside and walking in the mountains.
Going to see my team get beat. Spending time with the friend I meet up with.
We both agreed on missing concerts.
We also both agreed on missing going to Switzerland.
Hawklad talked about not going to zoos and falconries as much. Not being able to have a takeout or pop in for a real ice cream. Not being able to meet up with some of his friends. Missing out on not visiting the seaside.
Not going to wrestling shows.
And not being able to visit historical sites.
There was more but you get the point. Lockdown does have an impact on all our worlds. It means making sacrifices. But we do that all the time. The worry is that too many kids are losing out of key parts of their childhood. It’s about making the best of what we do have. Still trying to make memories. Remembering to keep living.
It’s time for another bit of virtual sightseeing. Last year I started my very own world tour. Let’s see how far I can get powered only by
My falling to bits exercise bike
My falling to bits running shoes
When I started the tour I was restricted to Yorkshire now that has become the garden. So let’s see where we left off last time. At the start of June we had reached Moldova. Now the journey continues. We still had many kilometres unused and we have now added another 1800km. So where have we got to….
Well with quite a few km’s still in the bank we have arrived at Volgograd. Formerly known as Stalingrad. This Russian city was founded in 1589. In certain important days the city can be officially called Hero City Stalingrad. In 1942 the city was the setting for one of the darkest, bloodiest and most horrific battles in the history of warfare. Approximately 2 million soldiers were killed, injured or captured in the 6 month battle. 40000 civilians were killed and the city was destroyed.
The city now has a population of just over a million. So what does it look like now.
It was actually enshrined in common lawn 1628 and basically means ‘a persons home is their refuge’. Over the years it has often been cited by the right wing as justification for the principle ‘I can do whatever I like in my own castle, that includes stuff like smacking kids, shutting down public rights of way, hunting animals, mistreating people and using whatever weapons I like to defend it’.
I’m against all those activities but the law does have its advantages. I can take on the right wing interpretation and use it to say – STUFF YOU BORIS – inside my castle your stupidity, oversized ego and corrupt government can’t touch me – I’m just going to ignore ‘YA GREAT BIG PUDDING’.
In my castle I also can get away with wearing lime green compression socks and pink shirts. It’s my right…. Nowt the law can do about it.
And the other thing about a ‘home is a castle’ is that some castles are bigger than others. Much bigger…. Some are even big enough to be used as Harry Potters school in the movies.
But there is another positive element to the castle home idea. Because of circumstances many people need those castle walls. The feeling of safety which comes from pulling up the drawbridge and being inside your own space. That certainly applies to my Hawklad with his Aspergers.
So here’s to everyone’s very own castles, whatever size and shape they may be.
That’s me expelled from Yorkshire. A red rose……. Historically our greatest rival has been our neighbour Lancashire. We have had bloody civil wars and battled over who should have the English Throne. We are the White Rose County. Lancashire is the Red Rose County. To this day when our teams meet the matches are often called the Roses Game. Even sometimes – The War of the Roses.
I can get away with a red rose. I was born in a Yorkshire town but on the northern edge. The Yorkshire Cricket Team would play in my town once a year. A few years later and the government decided to have a local government reorganisation and suddenly we were kind of just outside my birth county. That’s my excuse anyway.
It really doesn’t matter what colour Rose you are. We are all in this mess together. Work briefly picked up. Glimmers of hope. But that didn’t last long. Most of the work programme has been cancelled again. We help to manage public events and deal with things like cycle races. Trying to stop the roads clogging up and looking after the safety of the competitors/public. Not a great line of work to be in during a pandemic. Most of the remaining events have been waiting for news on the upcoming London Marathon. If they run then we can. Well the London Marathon has now cancelled the public element of the race. It will hold a much smaller professional race with no spectators. Worse news is that next years marathon has already been pushed back months into October 2021. With all the money and resources they have available to them and they can’t run the event safely for well over a year. Crumbs…..
So our work programme is effectively wrecked until well into next year. We might get a few small events but hardly anything. Maybe a few ‘helping to manage drive in vaccination schemes’. But we can’t spend to long fretting over this. It’s really out of our hands. Not much we can do except batten down the hatches and try to weather the storm. Try to look after the pennies. It could be so much worse. So many don’t have a job. Now that is properly tough.
Much less work has many advantages. Yes it focuses the mind on money but look on the bright side. More time to focus on Hawklad. Much reduced carbon footprint – the mad car is hardly getting used, it’s been to the petrol station once since March. And other advantages.
I was sat on the floor in the bathroom cleaning the toilet. I’ve got a rock and roll lifestyle. Listening to some fine Canadian Rock – RUSH. Thinking what a good job I was doing getting the throne glistening white again. Normally toilet cleaning duties are seen as as a real chore. Something to be squeezed in to an overly busy day. Get it done as quick as possible. But today I could take my time. Do a proper job.
Now that’s finished it’s time to fold the bathroom sheets (toilet roll) into nice shapes – just like the hotels do. Now that’s a first…….
It’s Sunday so it’s time for our weekly virtual trip to beautiful Switzerland. A country which means so much to our little family.
1st August is Swiss National Day. It celebrates the signing of the a Federal Charter in 1291. The Charter committed the various individual Cantons to stand together against outside aggressors and judges. It was officially recognised as the country’s founding document in the late 1800s. In 1993 86% of the population voted to introduce a national holiday on this day.
It’s quite fitting for us that the Swiss National Day falls on the same day as Yorkshire Day. Our little family can have a joint celebration. In many ways we think of ourselves as Yorkshire first, Swiss second, European third, British fourth and English fifth. Our dream would be for Yorkshire to be followed recognised as a Swiss Canton or for us to get Swiss nationality. That’s a fun thought.
So what happens on Swiss National Day. Every community holds celebrations which include bonfires and fireworks. Buildings and streets are adorned with flags and bunting. The community comes together to hear speeches, sing the national anthem, enjoy local produce and watch traditional folklore entertainment.
So if I time this post correctly then it will just about sneak into the 1st August here. So happy National Day to our families favourite country. We love you.
This is from a couple of years back. A two hour car drive to the west side of Northern England. The Lake District. A place that sometimes feels just a little bit Alpine.
We stopped off at Castlerigg Stone Circle. One of the countries finest historic sites set amongst the countries highest mountains. It’s was erected in the Neolithic period. Sometime around 3000BC. Yes even before I was born. It’s one of those special places. Yes it’s popular picnic site now but it still has an atmosphere. It just feels different. Many years ago after a days climbing, I spent the night here. Just sat on the ground in the middle of the circle. I’m not sure why. Maybe waiting for a ghost or something. Didn’t see anything but when I walked away after sunrise, I had never felt so calm and relaxed. It’s that type of place. I could so imagine a great fantasy author coming here for inspiration.
What struck me about the second photo is the look on my two faithful companions. New visitors had just arrived at the site. The four legged one, I suspect was eagerly checking them out for food or toys. The young boy was definitely not so eager. Once the site started to fill up a little then it was most definitely time to go. Crowds and Aspergers are not great bedfellows. That’s why the time to visit places is such a delicate scheduling task. The choices tend to be
Go when the weather is bad,
Go just before they are closing,
Arrive super early. Try to get round before the masses start to arrive.
As a result visits tend to be fleeting. They also sometimes require really early starts. In this case we set off at 5am. That’s not ideal but needs must. One definite advantage. Nothing better as you drive away from a site and passing the traffic queues waiting to get in. Does that thought make me a bad person….