The Levellers - A curious life

Like many, the Levellers first came to my attention in the early 1990's, I think I'd heard some of the songs off their first album 'A weapon called the word', although 'Levelling the land' was the first album that I got hold of. The music, the sound, the words and what they had to say really resonated with me, and I've loved their music ever since. Bands come and go, though some stay with you to become part of your lifes soundtrack, so it is with the Levellers. I've seen them countless times over the years; in electric form, acoustic form and cut down form as Drunk in public and I've never been disappointed, and have never heard an album which I didn't like, nor one that has diverged from from what I thought were their beliefs and core values.  In short, I've always believed, and defended to those who've been critical of the Levellers, my position that the Levellers are the genuine article and have never sold out.

After watching A Curious Life, the story of the Levellers, I know my beliefs were justified and were again affirmed. Narrated mainly by Jeremy, the Levellers bass player and resident artist, the film journeys through the life of the band; from their humble beginnings in Brighton band scene, through their free festival and uni circuit period to stadium band status and on to their current position of festival organizing music legends. Too gushy fan boy? I think not, the Levellers deserve any praise they receive. Through years when bands articulating opposition to the shit that's going down have never been more needed, yet have been so thin on the ground, the Leveller have consistently remained a beacon and an inspiration; they continue the tradition of music which has something to say, protest music if you will  Rare in todays homogenized and bland music world. Every Levellers song has meaning; all delivered in their unique folk/punk/rock/protest? style.  The film looks at their ups and downs; their uncomfortable relationship with the music press who gave them such a hard time, their rise to legend status, and all in their own words (not that they'd say they were legends, they're far to humble for that); it's honest and genuine, some pieces had me laughing out loud; it's a film which leaves you feeling this is a band which is comfortable in it's own skin. This is a proper band.

If you're a Leveller fan, watch this film, you'll love; if you're not a Leveller fan, watch this film and see what you're missing; and the extras, man, the extras...generous to a fault; in short.....watch this film.

Colours of spring

First Orchids of the year

A Brown Shield Bug (Coreus marginatus) stands guard over a early-purple orchid (Orchis mascula); the first Orchid I've seen this year, nice.

Adrift

A skeletal tree, adrift in a sea of yellow.

Leaf before the flower

The Hawthorns are starting to bud; unlike the Blackthorn which produces flowers before it produces leaves, the Hawthorn shows its leaves first. An easy way to distinguish the two similar, in form and habitat, thorny shrubs. With Beltain and May just around the corner, these buds are forming with perfect timing; well they would, wouldn't they, after all Hawthorn is the May blossom, flower of the May queen. 

Three cornered leek

If you smell garlic in the woods around now it's more than likely to be Ramsons (Allium ursinum), though it could be another member of the Allium family, the Three cornered leek (Allium triquetrum) who also favour similar habitats, although they can also be found on road sides and in meadows. Like Ramsons, all parts of the Three cornered leek are edible, either fresh of cooked: the bulbs, stems, flowers and leaves. You wont mistake the Three cornered leek for the Ramson; the flowers are very different, as are the leaves; one notable identifying feature of the Three cornered leek is, as its name suggests, that its stem is concavely triangular in cross-section. It'll be found growing in lush dense clumps, often in my experience, more leaf than flower; they are a native of the Mediterranean and can become invasive, so you'll often find that in populated areas they've sprung up on commons or waste ground where some gardener has dumped them. As always, be sure you're 100% certain of what picking when foraging.

Roach?

I'm not up on fish so much, and so am sure what this fish is, although I think it could be a young Roach (Rutilus rutilus). Whatever type of fish it's very adept at camouflage, becoming almost invisible amongst the gravel and shadows of Linford Brook; it's only because the moved as we approached that I saw them, if they hadn't I'd have passed by unawares. There were several of the same species milling about, all of what I thought were a good size for such a small and shallow brook; nearby were some much smaller fry, numbering maybe about 20/30 or so. I'm happy, though quite worried to see fish of this size in our forest streams: firstly, happy that our streams are well enough to support them; though, worried as these streams dry out quickly, how do they survive? It's only April now, and the brook is already exposed gravel in many sections; by the time summer's here proper, the only water that remains is held in dark skanky looking pools.

Plato, Socrates' Defence

Socrates' Defence by Plato; what a great read. Plato's book is but a tiny window onto the life of one of the classical periods most notable philosophers, though through Socrates' defence I got the impression he was a rebel thinker, at odds with the establishment of Athenian society, who asked more questions than he gave answers, he believe we should care more about our morals and soul than the acquisition of trinkets and such like; in that respect I saw reflections of Eastern philosophy. His defence against, what was a death penalty, seemed a moral and honourable defence that appeared bound to fail when accused by those who clearly weren't; he gently poked at his accusers, the jury and Athenian society, in a way that, to my mind, could only wind them up: funny guy. He was defiant, yet humble to the end, as you'd imagine it didn't end well for him. The last section of the book, where Socrates talks of death is thoughtful and thought provoking. I came away thinking, I must read more of Socrates. 

A good sign

I was pleased to spy these today, it's the early signs of Burnt Orchids or Burnt Tip Orchids (Neotinea ustulata); common in central and southern Europe, it's a rarer find here in the Northern climes and seen as an endangered species here in Britain; only being found in a few sites in Southern England, notably on the chalklands of Wiltshire. These specimens should come into flower sometime through May and June, and when they do they're a beautiful sight to behold.

Tree guy

Caught this guy hiding amongst the trees today; graffiti never ceases to make me smile; what on Earth is this supposed to signify?

End of the road

Looks like, some time ago by the style of the remaining identifiable pieces, that this vehicle reached the end of the road, and ever since it's components have been slowly returning to the earth from which they were once mined; do you think this is the circle of life Elton sung about?

Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels

It's been said, if a man is not a socialist by the time he is 20, he has no heart, and if he is not a conservative by the time he is 40, he has no brain; obviously, that's utter bollocks, although too often it would appear the older folk get the more right wing they become. I first read Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, many years ago as a teen with a growing political appetite with left of center sensibilities; and so was interested to revisit it now as a jaded adult, who if the saying was true should have moved to the right, though in reality hasn't moved a at all. I still look left, still agree with their basic premises, which I believe still hold true; that equality of opportunity, a genuine stake in society and opportunity to shape said society are our fundamental rights. Now though I see some failings in how Marx and Engels thought this would or could be achieved, as well as maybe a touch of naivety. Particularly in their assertion that the necessity for the bourgeoisie to educate their workforces would lead to the downfall of the bourgeoisie and the road to salvation for working people; agreed, education can liberate people, but why hadn't they considered that education would be used as a tool by the bourgeoisie to maintain their control, as it continues too; surely they must have foreseen that the bourgeoisie would not relinquish control so easily? Of course, I'm being unfair, they couldn't foresee the future and it's too easy for me to criticize them with my benefit of hindsight; at least they proposed a better world. Though communism didn't bring about liberation, equality and opportunity for the working masses, how could it; Marx and Engels had already remarked how revolutions only became effective when a section of the bourgeoisie had broken away to become part of said revolution; inevitably ensuring the perpetuation of the old system, merely in another form. I'm sure both Marx and Engels would be pissed to see the regimes who've called themselves 'Communists', it's clearly not what they had in mind. Still a good read and certainly food for thought.

Dorset Wall Lizard

I saw a few of these fellas scurrying about the rocks, and in and out amongst the stubby grass of Winspit Quarry today; I was unsure as to what they were, they weren't Common or Viviparous Lizards (Lacerta vivipara / Zootoca vivipara) nor were they Sand Lizards (Lacerta agilis), so I took some photos and sent one off to the Amphibian and Reptile Conservation Trust. They turn out to be non native, Wall Lizards (Podarcis muralis), these ones commonly referred to now as Dorset Wall Lizards, having at least one breeding colony in the area; it happens that they can be frequently, though sometimes not so frequently, spotted around the Purbeck coastal quarries.Another effect of climate change, maybe?

Wrack and ruin

We've passed this way regularly for over thirty years on countless walks along the coast and never until today had I noticed this building tucked away into the hillside. How could that be? It is set back from the track, nestled amongst a small stand of trees and shrubs; but still.  As I looked about in wonder taking in the sights and sounds of the day I thought I saw something and so took a few steps back, yeah, it looked like a chimney top or something, no I thought; but, being an inquisitive type I scrambled up through the undergrowth and to my surprise found a building going to wrack and ruin. It's a strange building with a striking facade, built, in part, right into the hillside, with one of the rear rooms having nature rock for walls; it appears to have been constructed ad-hoc, made out of a wide mixture of materials: concrete, dressed stone, brick, wood, all with a corrugated iron and wooden roof, which in part has collapsed, although most of the building remains water tight. A strange place for sure. Out buildings are cobbled on, built into and extending up the hillside too, on terraces; there's the remains of a planned garden, now hard to distinguish and well overgrown. It must have been a lovely spot at one time, a holiday home or something maybe. As I say, I've not noticed it in over 30 years, and surely would have if it had been occupied during that time; nor did I remember seeing it on the map, I checked on my return and no, it's not shown on the map. Another mystery.

St Aldhelms Head and Winspit

The sun shone hot today, like it was summer, and the air was warm and thin, even on the coast no refreshing breeze was to be had; the cool sea looked so inviting as it rolled gently over the rocky shore, that if I'd brought a towel, which I'd considered though then thought, no, I'd have braved a dip. But, it's not summer is it, and that nagging thought wouldn't leave my mind; no matter how wonderful, or welcomed, days like these are, they're not right and there'll no doubt be consequences, that I know. Our climate is changing, no one can't, with any honesty, deny that; though many still do either through willful ignorance or greed. You certainly couldn't deny our part in it standing here on St Aldhelms Head with a thick band of ugly coloured filth hanging in the air a few miles of shore and extending as far as you could see in both directions along the coast; that's pollution for sure, that is, our pollution.

Like many others I do what I can to limit my 'carbon footprint' as we call it; well, as with most of us, not what a 'could', more what I'm prepared to whilst still maintaining as comfortable a lifestyle as my conscience allows. For instance, I could not have driven here today; I cycle and walk when I can, but still without a car I couldn't get to places like this and I really don't know how I'd manage that. Like the green prozac of the woodland, these environments keep me sane(ish) in our increasingly psychologically damaging and spiritually oppressive world. It's easy to justify our actions, look, I just did; we make fine and sound arguments as to why we do what we do and that's why the climate's fucked in the first place and why technological solutions to our problems look so appealing to many; we all want to save the world, as long as that also maintains our status quo; we can sacrifice a few islands, some low lying landscapes, so some places get a touch arid or some icebergs melt, that's not too much to loose to keep the lights on, surely? Particularly if all those things happen 'over there'. Of course, I'm being silly and that's not how I think, not at all; and climate change, although people would like to think so, doesn't just happen 'over there', it happens all over, including here; and where ever it happens we're all culpable. I, like so many, try to negate, as much as I can, my complicity in our climates degradation; I drive as little as I can, meaningless?; I recycle, worthless?; I turn things off when not using them, delusional?; I try not to consume too much, pointless?; the problems are systemic and therefore as laudable as all our individual efforts are, the solutions have to be systemic if any chances of realistic change are to be achieved. Don't get me wrong, I'll still try to limit my impact, though in the honest knowledge that I'm only really easing my conscience and of course doing what's right, rather than actually easing the planets burden to any real extent.

Still, it was a lovely day at the coast.

Golden time #2

Golden time at Mudeford Quay.

Ukipper

It's a simplistic and over used comparison, I know, though their (far) right-wing, nationalistic and xenophobic rhetoric ensures the comparisons validity.  Even if you took all that with a pinch of salt, maybe it's the media misrepresenting them; the words straight from their mouths can't be misunderstood and suggest that there is indeed something fishy about Ukip. I'm sure, or rather I really hope, that like the graffiti artist responsible for these alterations, the majority of folk in Britain can see through their narrow minded little Britain of an imaginary period narrative (a mix of the Darling Buds of May, imperial colonialism and Dads army) and down the real path which Ukip policies would lead us. Or, maybe they can't; after all, xenophobia is very popular at the moment, it's this seasons black.

Blooming Thorns

 

Blackthorn (prunus spinosa) is coming into blossom all over the place, and whether an individual shrub or forming a cluster or length of hedgerow, they brighten the land and provide much needed food for insects after the winter months and a period of scarcity.

Sprung

Butterflies and blooms; spring has definitely sprung.

Willow Catkins

Willow (Salix) Catkins.

First Cowslip

I saw my first Cowslip (Primula veris) today.

Crazy Daisy

Crazy daisy, man! You see such cool things if look. I've never seen a Daisy (Bellis perennis) like this before, its elongated nature really made it stick out. It's over an inch long and grows from a similarly elongated stem, a strange and unusual looking thing indeed. I had the idea of collecting the seeds from this unique flower and growing them on in the hope of creating a new flower; I have a lot of ideas, although all too often my imagination and intentions are let down; the road pathed with my good intentions is a long and winding one; and if procrastinating made money, I'd be a wealthy man.

Art for art sake.

Tout Quarry park: a disused quarry, active since 1750; used by the military in World War 2 as the site for a Coastal Defence/Chain Home Low radar station; in the 1950's the military used it as a ROTOR (air defence radar system) site; the ROTOR site was abandoned and demolished in the early 1960's; and then sometime later, in 1983, it became a sculpture park, which has developed over time. As you can imagine the quarry is packed with things of interest, industrial archaeological remains, military archaeological remains and a shed load of cool art. I came across Tout Quarry late in my walk and so couldn't really investigate the place as we'd have liked; I saw about a dozen of the 50 or so pieces of art, all of which served their purpose of stimulating the imagination. Though to do the place justice I need to really take some time to look about, and maybe look to document all the pieces.

Portland poetry

A poetic sticker at High Angle battery.

Portland

It turns out that the Isle of Portland is a weird place: I'm sure made weirder today by the sea mist which periodically swept over the isle, obscuring the sun, adding a chill and adding an another-worldyness to an already alien landscape. Don't get me wrong, I'm not maligning the place, not at all. Just saying it's weird. I'd been looking at Portland for a walk for some time now, expecting more of Purbeck, and in some ways that's what I found, though in others it felt so so different. It feels like nature here has been deeply wounded, she's still reeling from mans onslaught, though slowly starting to come round. Although nature slowly creeps back over the works of man, still most, if not all, of todays walk was in a landscape hugely altered by man. You notice that nearly all the flora is different here, minimal, colonizers, it's all primary growth, so worked is the land that there's not been the opportunity for more developed plant communities to establish; as for the most part the land has literally been turned inside out. In this quarried landscape, with its racing mists, I am put in mind of a 70's Dr Who set, or Blakes 7. I don't mind that, I quite enjoy remembering those shows.

Although the naturalist in me is somewhat disappointed, the archaeologist in me is thrilled by a landscape where your eye can wander endlessly from one artifact/monument to another; Portland really is almost entirely a post industrial, post military landscape, jam packed with archaeology.  Strange edifices appear out of the mist, testament to some past occupation or activity; chimneys, walls, buildings, all slowly being absorbed as nature takes back what was hers.  One structure in particular catches my eye and my imagination, a giant dressed stone structure, beautifully crafted, somewhat like a massive piece of Toblerone. Further investigation showed it to be the beautifully built butt, completed in 1920 of a rifle range originally initiated during the Victorian period. Further investigation is definitely required of this strange landscape; that really was the point of todays mission... recon, and I saw plenty of places I'd like to further investigate. With luck my next mission will be in better weather.

Wingreen

There used to be a wooden fence around the clump of Beech trees which crown the Bronze Age Barrowed summit of lofty Wingreen Hill; the fence has now gone and I found myself wandering into to the stand and around the the barrow. Time and space appeared suspended as my mind joined my feet and wandered; my mind must have wandered far, as all of a sudden I was back, being totally unaware that I'd left in the first place; then my mind does tend to follow the rabbit.

Who were the Bronze Age folk thought so special to be afforded such a significant resting place? Through the trunks I can see a vast landscape stretching out before me in all directions, this place in the land must have always held significance. It's visible for miles. What over events has such a prominent spot witnessed?  So many, I'm sure. Here in the clump nearly every tree is scared by years of graffiti, though sadly, virtually none of it legible, all obscured by time. Who? When? Why? What? Questions questions, all to remain unanswered. 

Grimm wood

Fairytale paths lead you through the magical Chase landscape, out over windswept hills allowing stolen views into other counties, off along secluded meandering valleys and through woodland; woodland, which at this time of year, all skeletal and eerie, could be straight off the pages of the Brothers Grimm. We're lucky to have so many wondrous places to roam so close to hand. There's a certain gravitas to the Chase, the millennia of history are almost tangible, so soaked is the landscape. A walk through the Chase is a walk through time. As I say, a magical landscape. 

We sat awhile in ancient woodland below Wingreen Hill: silence, nice, well not really silence, the sounds of nature busying herself filled the stands and spilled out into the coombe below, it's all the noises of man which have been silenced; planes, cars, you know the things. It gets harder and harder to find spots where the sounds of modern man don't impinge on natures perfection.  Here's one spot.  A chance to stop, close your eyes, relax and breath deep. Tune into the woodland: the more you sync in, take root, the more the woodland opens up to you and the more you hear. A woodpecker taps out his repetitive beat high amongst lofty boughs, while other birds of many types contribute the chorus; with dexterity squirrels move gracefully from branch to branch, tree to tree, like daring high-wire acts; just visible in the woodland on the other side of the coombe deer graze unawares of our presence and all about, hidden from view, you know a myriad of creatures busy themselves. So, really it wasn't silent at all, but what it was is what it should be... nature doing her thing. You could sit for an age, here in her embrace.

Baltasar Gracián

I've finished the first of my Penguin little black classics: Baltasar Gracián, 'How to use your enemies'. An enjoyable read and an insight into the world of the 1600's, a world of deception and illusion, it would appear much like today, which Graciáns aphorisms illustrate beautifully. Much of it raises a smile, as you it's true. His observations on human behaviour and interaction are astute, and as people is people, Graciáns words are just as pertinent for todays world.

Closer

A Holly held tight by an Oaks embrace, I'm sure they're both just good friends. I don't think two trees could get any closer. Cool.

Easter graffiti

Rather apt graffiti for the season I thought.

Fatwood

Chopping through some Pine I got last year from a friend in preparation for this evenings full Moon fire, I came across some 'Fatwood'. Fatwood is the resin-impregnated heartwood of Pine; most resinous pines will produce fatwood. Why Pines? Coniferous (Pine) tree sap contains the hydrocarbon Terpene which is highly flammable, both when hardened into resin or when still wet and sticky.  It takes a light quickly and easily, burns fiercely producing thick black smoke and is a first class fire starting aid. With aid of a sharp axe I created some thin batons of fatwood to be stored in an airtight container for later use. When I need to I'll shave off small curls to use as tinder, each small baton could light several fires. If you come across any fatwood it's worth collecting, and is an invaluable fire starting resource in wet conditions.

Ēostre

The next full moon after the Spring Equinox is the festival of Ēostre. That's today. Ēostre is a Germanic fertility Goddess of Spring and according to the Venerable Bede her name is the origin of the Christian Easter, although it is hard to find any reference to her elsewhere. That said, Ēostre is Anglo Saxon in origin and there are records of Easter activities revolving around hares and eggs in old Germanic culture.  Maybe there's a connection.  I'll tell you where there's no connection and that's between Easter and the festival of the chocolate Jesus we see today. What's all that about? It's crossed my mind that that's why so many right wing / Christian types* get so worked up when they see other faith / cultural groups following their traditions, you know the types, the 'coming over here (fill with a pejorative of choice)' types. It's not that these faith / cultural groups are following their traditions so mush, as it's that we're not.  We've put everything up for sale, sold the lot; every tradition distilled down to its consumer worth, then sold cheapened. The world of man, ay, mental. 

The world of nature on the other hand, accepts no such nonsense. In the natural world the Hare's off and all nature strains ready to join the chase. The forest is still quite bare, though every twig is tipped with a bulging bud, throughout shoots thrust through last years litter in search of the Sun, whilst all about  spring blooms begin their colonization, soon to cover great swathes in colour. We'll feast on vistas of yellows, blues and whites; and you know how good that feels. Following a forest stream today we chanced upon an isolated clump of Daffodils hugging the bank, beautiful, a promise of what's to come. A toast to Ēostre.

* By no means are the majority of Christians right wing, that's not what I'm saying. No, I'm talking about the very vocal group who you'd get if you created a right wing / Christian venn diagram.