Sherlock

I really enjoyed the modern take tv pilot show SHERLOCK shown on BBC1 last night. No longer surrounded by Victorian myth and slum, this is a updated twist on a tried and tested formula but having said this the pacy plot did remind me of those 80 minute classics starring the hawk nosed Basil Rathbone.

The modern version has Holmes ( a Dr Who- ish Benedict Cumberbatch) as a freelance police detective whose blunt but sharp deductions have alienated him from the authorities who refer to him as "a freak". Holmes wryly even refers to himself as a sociopath and there are even oblique self references to an asexual homosexuality lurking beneath the genius but thankfully this psychobabble is kept to a minimum as the galloping storyline takes over.

For me, it is Martin Freeman's calm and collected Dr Watson that makes for the most interesting twist in the new aged characters. A veteran medic and soldier from Afghanistan, his boyish demeanor belies a steely hero who is a dead shot and who has a deep need for a lost adrenalin rush obtained from conflict.He makes for a quiet and warmer foil for Holme's rather lonely Sherlock.

The chemistry and humour between the two leads works very well but after an hour I did feel as though I was watching a sort of hybrid Dr Who,what with the cracking one liners,constant action and flashy screen technology.....I was not surprised to learn that the series was co founded by Dr Who producer Steven Moffit.

I look forward to see where this series actually goes

Worry Not!

This Century old needlepoint is on the wall of the cottage right next to the fireplace. and I am resolved to take a lesson from it.
Looking at the weather forecast for the next week, it looks as though my sister's flower show and the allotment open may be rather damp, but I refuse to worry about it all. It has rained every year we have held it!

Statues

Ina in Alaska sent me this wonderful photo of a sculpture entitled The Last Blue Whale by Josef Princiotta .Now I love public sculptures and have my favourites amid the many I have experienced over the years.
The Veiled Lady....the most delicate and serene sculpture in the main gallery of Chatsworth House

Dozens of metal figures standing and staring out to sea just North of Liverpool makes for a rather chilling display, but Antony Gormley's statues on Crosby Beach kind of take your breath away when you see them for the first time

...and of course my favourite...the Angel fountain in Central Park.........I took this photo the last time we went......lovely

Babies no more

Aged just 5 weeks and babyhood is over for the goslings.
Although not quite feathered up, they are hardy enough to be transported into their own shed on the field and have already stood up to the bullying antics of the slate turkey, Jane.
Content in their own company, they still follow me everywhere but now have that slight faraway look of adulthood.

Open Garden Day

The village Conservation Group holds a two yearly "Open Garden " event in the village, and today a dozen or so gardens were open for the public to wander around and to admire.
The conservation group is an entirely different entity to our Flower Show Committee but it has a similar objective to raise monies for village improvements.
The weather has not been kind today, as it remains overcast and wet, but the gardens I did venture round looked lush with the recent downpours we have experienced.
(Below "angel's fishing rods" in my friend Pat's garden)

I picked up a programme of events at the memorial hall, where I hopefully conscripted a guy selling his own vegetables to set up a stall at the Open Allotment day next Sunday. The village Jungle telegraph had been working overtime a many people came over to ask how our neighbour Trevor was. ( They had heard that I had rushed the 86 year old in to hospital yesterday which was not quite the case). I reassured them that he was doing ok and said that I had visited him this morning and he seemed comfortable enough but was rather vague with the workings of his new mobile phone. (I gave him a quick lesson in texting, dropped off some pyjamas and promised to feed his cat daily when I was there!)
Being single, elderly and sick must be a scary experience in today's world....having said that, the show of support and solidarity from the village for one of their own has been admirable
Anyhow the garden open seemed to be a success despite the weather.Above Pat in her typically English garden complete with herbaceous borders and below the chap from Anchor House and his AstroTurf patio!!! (Which incidently worked very well!)

A matter of perspective

I posted this photo in response to some of the comments from the last post, that thought that Nell's death was awfully sad. Poultry of all sorts often live for the shortest of times! that is why if left to their own devices, they will breed like rabbits ...so somewhere like the field would be overrun by eager beaks and scratching feet. Now don't get me wrong, some characters like Boris, the buffs, Mary the bantam and of course Jo and Winnie have wormed their merry way into my heart almost as deeply as the dogs have done, but generally I am never really sad when one of the birds dies a natural, timely and peaceful death.
Above is Lilly with her three young chicks..the little wyandotte bantam (left) is a real sweetie

An odd little moment

I bought my first two runner ducks a few years ago now. and kept the gentle, nervous females, who have mothered all of my many ducklings over the last few seasons.

I named them Nell and Maude, and I suspect both were older ducks when I bought them. Yesterday Nell looked tired and wobbly on her legs, and without the usual hysterical screaming that Indian runners exhibit when they come into close human contact, I caught her and placed her in the quiet duckhouse with food and some water.

Today the old girl remained ill , so I placed her back into the duck house and got on with chores before I needed to leave in order to take one of our elderly neighbours to hospital. When I returned I took the goslings out on to the field for a walk and sat down with them with a bowl of water for them and a cup of coffee for me.

As we sat there in the sun, Nell tottered out of the duckhouse and walked very slowly over to us.

She drank briefly from the goslings bowl as they craned their necks and twittered at her and not six inches away from us, she sat down in the warm sun where she lowered her head into the grass.

I thought to myself that she was dying and very gently I picked her up and let her lie in the crook of my arm where she sat still and very calm.

There was something small but incredibly moving about the whole little scene, and moments later Nell's breathing slowed and then eventually stopped.

It was the oddest thing

Where the Hell is Matt? (2008)

I have posted this before and no matter what is the real origin is of the video is, It is a wonderfully uplifting piece of mini cinema, It should be viewed at least once a week!!!!