Saturday, December 23, 2006
solstice - Castlerigg
a halfdozen neo~druids were there.
a lady offered solstice cake.
the difference between stones and the living blurred.
(one pic is scavanged off the www!)
(the mountains are from top of hopegill later that day)
Monday, December 18, 2006
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Tiger & Hammer.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Saturday, November 11, 2006
St. Bega
The legend is that St. Bega (Died: AD 681) was the daughter of an Irish king and was the most beautiful woman in her country. She was to be married to the King of Norway, but she had, from her infancy, vowed herself to an ascetic life and. The night before her wedding-day, finding no ship to speed her escape, she cut a turf from the ground and, on it, crossed the Irish Sea. She landed on a promontory - thenceforth called St. Bee's Head, in Cumbria.
Without land or title, She asked the lord of Egremont for some land and he laughingly gave her as much as the snow would cover the next day - which happened to be Midsummer Day. But of course the next day the snow falls, covering only the land within about three miles, enough to place a priory.
(and below is a church bearing her name!)
WELL, should've been below, angels in the machine!
to sort another day...
Without land or title, She asked the lord of Egremont for some land and he laughingly gave her as much as the snow would cover the next day - which happened to be Midsummer Day. But of course the next day the snow falls, covering only the land within about three miles, enough to place a priory.
(and below is a church bearing her name!)
WELL, should've been below, angels in the machine!
to sort another day...
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Cockermouth: 1 year on
well, it's been a year since i came to this fine wee town of the edge of the lakes, not heaving with the gortex brigade that dayglo the streets of keswick and ambleside.
so, a look with new eyes (been away for 5 weeks!).
there is the most famous of cumbrians, Wordsworth who was born in the town (and wrote most of his great poetry down the road in grasmere).
and there are fine homes and a church hall door that even St. Peter might have trouble finding all the keys for!
and there are some very cultured pets who like to walk the boards.
back thru france
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