Topic categories:

Rambling, farther afield from Coventry

You need to be signed in to respond to this topic

First pagePrevious page

Displaying 271 to 281 of 281 posts

Page 19 of 19

1 2 3 4 5 .... 10 .... 15 16 17 18 19
No actionNo action
281 posts:
Order:    

Old Lincolnian
Coventry
All posts by this member
271 of 281  Sun 4th Nov 2018 2:26pm  
Member: Joined Sep 2012  Total posts:504

Great pictures Pix, I've always enjoyed walking canal towpaths going back to the 60's and now a friend of mine has bought a narrowboat I get to spend even more time travelling on them Cheers
Rambling, farther afield from Coventry
NormK
bulkington
All posts by this member
272 of 281  Fri 9th Nov 2018 4:52pm  
Member: Joined Jan 2012  Total posts:859

This was spotted on the wall in a cafe in Barcelona
Milly rules

Rambling, farther afield from Coventry
Kaga simpson
Peacehaven, East Sussex
All posts by this member
273 of 281  Fri 9th Nov 2018 5:47pm  
Member: Joined Sep 2014  Total posts:2737

NormK 1920/30 time, enamel paint, used to get more on me than on the bike. There must be a story on how it got there? Brill, thank you.
Rambling, farther afield from Coventry
Midland Red
Cherwell
All posts by this member
274 of 281  Fri 9th Nov 2018 6:04pm  
Moderator: Joined Jan 2010  Total posts:5250

You can purchase one on on Amazon from the USA Thumbs up
Rambling, farther afield from Coventry
Kaga simpson
Peacehaven, East Sussex
All posts by this member
275 of 281  Sun 23rd Dec 2018 2:53pm  
Member: Joined Sep 2014  Total posts:2737

The physical and spiritual benefits of a long walk are almost incalculable and inspirational, the idea of walking through the leafy lanes and beauties of the countryside was irresistibly appealing. I had read the books of Belloc and Potter doing this walk, which put the idea into my head. I caught a train to Robertsbridge on the borders of Kent and Sussex. I chose to do it in Autumn as they had. As I walked up the steps of the George Inn the village clock in the red-bricked tower struck eleven. The inglenook fireplace had been blocked up and formed the backdrop. I ordered a sweet sherry. But there was a recent oddity - the clock on the wall behind the bar, the numerals appeared as mirror image, and read anti-clockwise, and the hands moved in corresponding direction. On the wall was a framed photograph of Belloc and a notice telling of his visits. Half an hour later I walked away from the George, past more delightful old houses. Then past the entrance to the Nicholls factory that made the famous willow cricket bats. Across the valley the trees had not shed all their leaves, Salehurst Church stood atop the wooded hill. Across the river bridge and past the remains of an Abbey, it was not difficult to imagine the open countryside had changed little since their journey. At a fork in the road I took the left hand lane and walked on to Brightling with a large wood on my left. Late summer flowers still bloomed in the hedgerows as I walked uphill, an isolated forge and blacksmiths shop lay back from the road. Soon after, the sign of an inn, a life-size figure of Jack Fuller, one time squire of the parish, complete with top hat and umbrella. Outside there was still a stone-built horse mounting block. Here I had breakfast of home cured bacon and fresh laid eggs. Mad Jack Fuller, a Member of Parliament, built a pyramid in the churchyard for his burial - it was held he was interred, sitting at a table with meal and a bottle of claret, dressed for dinner, but the myth exploded by late-day prying, trampling on other people's dreams. Once out of the village a panoramic view opened out to the east across the valley of a river.
Rambling, farther afield from Coventry
Kaga simpson
Peacehaven, East Sussex
All posts by this member
276 of 281  Tue 9th Apr 2019 5:46pm  
Member: Joined Sep 2014  Total posts:2737

My platoon was sent to do a road block about two miles out of town on a crossroads. It was a beautiful warm night, a little breeze blowing in from the sea. We manned positions covering the four roads. All around us from the ditches frogs were croaking incessantly. Middle East frogs have an unusually loud rasping croak and however far away from you they are, the sound seems to be coming from somewhere near your feet. The night music of the Middle East - this croak is only made by the male bullfrog and he does it by blowing out his dewlap, and letting it go with a burp. This is his mating call - when the female hears it she hops smartly by his side. But he does not greet her, he keeps singing his song to the heavens, loving his own voice. She waits - he's forgotten why he started croaking in the first place, so she loses patience and kicks him with her leg, and only then does he stop his croaking, and turns to embrace her.
Rambling, farther afield from Coventry
Kaga simpson
Peacehaven, East Sussex
All posts by this member
277 of 281  Thu 11th Apr 2019 6:01pm  
Member: Joined Sep 2014  Total posts:2737

To a young lad that knew the countryside, and loved the freedom of the fields and woods, this time of the year, April in Warwickshire, was a beautiful time. The wild fields full of yellow-white primroses, below the trees, the ground a blue haze covered in bluebells. The scent of olden days, of history - I wanted someone to share. I ran across meadows, I hurled over low bushes, ran with my voice full of song. I ran past the old pond, stagnant with duckweed, I burst through the tangy veil of scent, poured myself over the oak-railed fence. I cried out with joy. Hedges of dense hawthorn, where blackbirds and thrushes burst out with a shimmer of silvered wings and clucking alarm and dived back in again far ahead. I had achieved a reputation for being missing on shopping days, loved being left to my own devices, exploring the fields and woods. Those dreamy solo sorties, surging excitement of discovery. Mother would shout, "Now don't you go getting in to any trouble", but I would be out of the door and away before she could finish the sentence. I didn't know where I was going, it was just out and away and come what may. I sat on the swing that hung from the bough of an apple tree. Suddenly the fowl started to get alarmed. I kept quiet, spotted a willowy old stoat in the hedgerow - he dropped to the ground and did a weird dance. A hen watched, fascinated - he then leaped up and down, the hen and I were mesmerised. He then chased his tail round and round but each time getting closer to the hen. Ashe was about to pounce on the hen I shouted and ran towards him. He disappeared in a flash.
Rambling, farther afield from Coventry
Dreamtime
Perth Western Australia
All posts by this member
278 of 281  Fri 12th Apr 2019 1:57pm  
Member: Joined Jan 2010  Total posts:3284

Oh dear, you have set me off again Kaga. Now where is that box of tissues. Wave
Rambling, farther afield from Coventry
Kaga simpson
Peacehaven, East Sussex
All posts by this member
279 of 281  Fri 12th Apr 2019 4:47pm  
Member: Joined Sep 2014  Total posts:2737

Oh dear, Dreamtime! Sorry about that.
Rambling, farther afield from Coventry
Kaga simpson
Peacehaven, East Sussex
All posts by this member
280 of 281  Wed 17th Apr 2019 3:44pm  
Member: Joined Sep 2014  Total posts:2737

On a warm sunny day in the second week of September 1952 I stepped down from the train in Finale Ligure Italy. No one knew me and I knew no-one there, and no-one in the world knew where I was. I had my passport and my Youth Hostel card in my pocket, and about sixty pounds in travellers cheques in my boots, tucked under the inner sole, and a small amount of loose lira change in my pocket. The hostel was sited on the hillside, a Victorian castle in red-brick - battlements, turrets and all. Itsposition overlooking the town and the bay was magnificent. The warden/owner told me the season was almost over and everybody had left and he was about to close for refurbishment the coming week-end so I could only stay five days maximum. He showed me the dormitory, the kitchen/dining room etc. He said for a few more lira there was a small single room with verandah on the floor above. I booked it for the five nights. I explored the town, bought salad and fruit from the quaint old market, went for a swim in the evening when it had cooled down. Next morning I was looking through brochures in the lounge when the warden showed two girls round, both blonde, fair skins, no make-up. We all said "Ciao". I met them again late afternoon in the dining room. Through broken Italian/English/French, we talked. They said they were going to the beach when the sundipped lower, would I join them. I did. The last of the people were leaving and the sun had lost its power, They stripped, naked as jungle apes, as bare-bosomed as Venus and ran down to the sea. There was something wonderfully innocent and unembarrassed about them. And here was I, a bundle of youthful self-consciousness gaping at them. I longed to strip, do the same but no, I was a Brit, I kept my trunks on. I wished like mad I had the guts to do what they had done and to hell with anyone that saw me. I made a point of leaving the water first, I wanted another eyeful of this delight. After the swim we all went back to the hostel. An hour later I was sitting opposite them in the dining room, the knowledge that not long ago I had seen them both with not a stitch on made my spine tingle. But they kept the talk distant, not to embarrass me for they knew what the Brits were like, or that's what I thought. Early next morning, before the sun or the crowd arrived we went swimming again. The same thing happened again, only this time one of them took her time walking up the beach. Afterwards we walked round town and they did some shopping. Then they asked if they could use the shower that was on my verandah for getting rid of sand and salt. You don't believe it? Listen I could hardly believe it myself. Twenty or so years later I and my wife joined a keep fit club in Brighton. They had a small pool and showers. One time a group of Swedish or Danish girls joined, again I was swimming and showering with naked girls, but now I had lost all my inhibitions.
Rambling, farther afield from Coventry
Kaga simpson
Peacehaven, East Sussex
All posts by this member
281 of 281  Thu 25th Apr 2019 4:54pm  
Member: Joined Sep 2014  Total posts:2737

On Tuesday it was like a miracle day, the sun in a haze through the window. We walked (hobbled) down to the sea-front, the view still dazzles me, the sea like a sheet of glass, not a breath of wind, the sea-gulls ride the water, strangely silent, the sea and sky mingled, blended so you could not see were one ended and the other began. There was no movement from the water but at the same time it gently crept up and covered the pebbles on the beach, not disturbing them, not a murmur. It lifted up and covered the rocks, you wanted to throw a stone and cause a ripple, but a stronger urge told you to enjoy something very rare that was happening. The act of seeing can quickly become automatic, but this day made you really look, and a hush that made me feel something like peace. In the evening the news told us that dust from the Sahara had reached the southern part of the Country.
Rambling, farther afield from Coventry

You need to be signed in to respond to this topic

First pagePrevious page

Displaying 271 to 281 of 281 posts

Page 19 of 19

1 2 3 4 5 .... 10 .... 15 16 17 18 19
No actionNo action

Previous (older) topic

Coventry Climax
|

Next (newer) topic

Words and phrases we remember
View similar topics in the Non-Coventry category
 
Home | Forum index | Forum stats | Forum help | Log out | About me | My music
Top of the page
HTML5
1,632,095

Website & counter by Rob Orland © 2019

Load time: 102ms