Caldbeck...

Been taking pictures around Penrith, and now I’m parked up back in town again. There’s a convenient car-park, free after 6pm, where I can pick up free wifi from a nearby café. For a change, I’m off to see a film: Trainwreck, starring Amy Schumer, which is getting good reviews. I could do with a few laughs.

The village pond - almost a lake - in the village of Caldbeck…

Back in Yorkshire...

Drove back from Wales yesterday, returning to West Yorkshire the most dramatic way: climbing up to the top of Holme Moss and getting that fantastic panorama of the Holme Valley. Kipped in Slaithwaite last night, by the canal; is there any other place name that can be pronounced three different ways? 'Slaith' can rhyme with 'say' or 'sat', and most locals compress all those consonants into 'Slowit'. I'll be in Hebden Bridge this evening, hoping to see a few friendly faces in the Fox and Goose...

Blackberry and apple pie...

Had an enjoyable three days with son and grandson, near Abergavenney, even though the weather was poor. In fact, the Welsh hills had a certain sullen grandeur, when wreathed in cloud, but, with a four-year old to entertain, sunshine might have been better. We picked enough blackberries to make a pie, so last night we had home-made pizzas followed by home-made pie. It took a couple of hours this morning to clean up the kitchen…

Kipping in Leominster tonight. There was quite a storm earlier this evening: thunder, lightning, torrential rain… even a little hail. Tomorrow I’ll be heading back to Yorkshire…

Cottage...

I've enjoyed my couple of days in Brecon. Just a quid to park all day in the car park, so I stayed there. Took some pix and got my writing done... and maybe found both a title for my book and an elegant way of starting and finishing it. Just uploading my latest batch of pix in a pub with fast wifi. The locals are trying to cope with a new landlady, and her 'no effing or jeffing' stipulations. Fun to watch a bunch of middle-aged guys trying to find circumlocutions and desperate euphemisms instead of the profanity they're accustomed to. Time for a shower, and some food shopping, then off to the cottage in the middle of nowhere...

Brecon...

Had breakfast in a cafe (attached to the theatre) next to the canal basin in Brecon, a rather pleasant spot. Mug of tea, free wifi and a relaxing view of the comings and goings on the canal…

Garden and canal: in no harmony whatsoever...

War...

Spent a morning taking pictures in the village of Lacock, but had the misfortune to coincide with a rather bizarre event, called ‘Lacock at War’. A field was full of old military vehicles - there was a charge to get in, so I didn’t bother - and the village itself was awash with people in uniform (World War II vintage… rather than archers or halberdiers). Most of the men looked very comfortable playing at soldiers and carrying weapons, which no doubt play important roles in their active fantasy lives.

Strange to be nostalgic about the Second World War (“the last good time this country ever had”, according to Richard Brautigan, in A Confederate General from Big Sur… though maybe he was thinking about the American Civil War). It was startling to see Allied soldiers fraternising with Nazis (I assume the SS officers were National Trust personnel; maybe they dress like this every day. In fact, I’m sure they do. Jackboots). The locals gave the Nazis a warm welcome. Collaborators!

I was a bit disappointed, frankly. To illustrate a theme like ‘Lacocok at War’, I was hoping that two armies might assemble, one at either end of the village, rifles loaded with real bullets. They could have dashed in and out of Lacock’s medieval streets, or posted snipers in the top windows of Lacock’s half-timbered buildings, until the last man was left standing. The result would have been carnage, of course, with blood flowing through the streets of this picture-postcard National Trust village, but it might have given impressionable youngsters a more realistic idea of what war is actually like.

I was in 'Nam last night. Chippenham... where I found a comfy little pub with good beer. I was served by a raven-haired barmaid, who handed over each pint with a smile and “here you are, my lovely”, which is why I had more beer than I’d planned.  Yes, I know. She says that to everyone. But still…

Crossed the Severn Estuary this morning, on the toll bridge, with the sun glinting off the broad river. In Wales now… so the fun stops here…

Lacock...

Service...

Spent the morning keywording photos, while the Romahome had its service and torrential rain bounced off the roof. Back in Godalming for the rest of the day: as good a place as any to get some writing done, especially while the weather is so vile…

Bought a book from a charity shop - The Bible, a Biography, by Karen Armstrong - and read it from cover to cover. OK, maybe I skipped a few bits towards the end. God it was dull. It told me what I already knew, that the Bible was the work of many hands, incorporating texts from many other ‘desert  religions’, later commentries, dodgy translations, tales from oral traditions finally committed to paper… or papyrus… or parchment.

The story was padded out with tales of splits and schisms… as one group of believers took issue with another group over some arcane point of scripture. Every dissenting sect claimed to know the mind of God and to possess a unique understanding of biblical dogma. I suppose it’s not too hard to convince a bunch of religious fanatics that they are the chosen ones.

The punishment for non-belief and apostasy, in the Abrahamic religions, has traditionally been death. Bibical injunctions have been used to justify appalling acts of violence - from the earliest times to the present - and the author lists every one. She’s an ex-nun, and, having finished the book, I’m still not sure where she stands. My next book is a collection of atheist writings, assembled by Christopher Hitchens, which might be more nourishing fare…