We have a choice.

I love a bit of history me. History shines a light on the lives and times of our ancestors and illuminates the road which brought us to today. One thing you quickly realize is that people have changed little throughout thousands of years of human history, or rather, our desires, motivates and machinations have changed not one bit. I've long believed that if you brought a citizen of ancient Rome, or Athens, or Beijing, or Memphis, or wherever, equipped them with a universal translator, they'd quickly recognise what was going on today as the same as in their day. Another aspect of history, and a most important one in my opinion, is it can act like a map through life's cyclical minefields, and if studied will save us from having to relive our mistakes. Live and learn, rather than  repeat and repeat. And you don't have to travel back to ancient times for pearls of wisdom (although it is rich in them), often there's much to learn from the events of decades closer to our own, from the words of those who experienced them. 

Take 'Homage to Catalonia', Orwell's experiences of the 1930's Spanish Civil War. Reading 'Homage to Catalonia' you may glean some perspective and insight into the possible direction our current political dichotomy is travelling; and we have a choice, we can learn from what we read, and act on what we learn, and maybe avoid a similar fate, or of course repeat it. During the Spanish Civil War the Republican/Communist/Anarchist forces of the Left, fought endlessly amongst themselves, all the fractions vying for dominance, in the process they killed thousands of there own, their allies and the public. As a consequence of their in fighting they were militarily and politically weakened, as well as losing the hearts and minds of the people in their territories due to their abhorrent behaviours. I look at the left today and see striking similarities, and that makes me angry and sad in equal measure. Obviously not to the same extremes or the ideologically driven extra judicial killings, no, we're not barbarians, now we just label people then socially isolate them and destroy them, of course there are plenty of death threats too, though we tend overlook them when perpetrated by our own side. No, I was thinking more of the ideological battles, the divisory attitudes, the splintering, the witch hunts and purges, and the developing group think devoid of any space for nuance or difference, driven by the pursuit of some imaginary ideological purity, and that bullshit word 'wokeness'. A left too busy looking through their ideological milk bottle bottomed glasses, eager to look like everything to everybody, and in danger of becoming nothing to anybody; a left where too many people compete to tell each other/everybody how f*cking great they are, how virtuous and right on their lives; and a left too easily distracted by pointless and strategically bankrupt 'stunts' to recognise that they're manifestly failing to properly address the fundamental issue of structural inequalities....our real objective, being a key to a better everything. A left that hands PR opportunities to our enemies, not once, but again and again, doing the enemies work for them, making it too too easy; a left that's in real danger of disappearing up it's own arse...whilst applauding itself. It's ugly, man, ugly and counterproductive. Most of the time I don't recognise my own ideological home, and more worrying than my sensibilities, is it's increasingly not carrying enough people along with it to be a genuinely effective vehicle for real positive change. I'm just so frustrated and disappointed, man, every day I grow more convinced that we wont see positive change in our lifetime. Why? Because we're stupid. For goodness sake, take a look at history, look at the Spanish Civil War as an example (there are plenty of others too), see what happens when a fragmented left doesn't carry the people with it..............the Nationalists win.

Old straight track

Bridleway you say? If you're an elf riding a stoat, maybe. This section of the old Roman road, Ackling Dyke, just north of Badbury Rings, is tightly flanked by thick towering country hedge, making the already slim path, very narrow indeed. It felt akin to being in a maze, just a long unimaginative straight maze; The Ackling Dyke runs across the softly rolling chalk farmland like this for about half a mile. It's a long time since I've walked these tracks, not since Norris got too old to walk them, 5 or so years ago. I like this landscape, although predominantly farmland there's diversity too, and a lot lies hidden too, less walked tracks to find, secluded spots and views are just amazing. Obviously, this shot doesn't show those views to their best. 

Nuts

Along the hedgerows, through the coppices and in my back garden, hazelnuts are forming. Last year was a real bumper year; I wonder how we'll fare this season. 

Solitude

The beach was ours this morning.

Coastal defence

Wooden framework amongst the 'rock armour' at the base of the Barton slips.

Resistance is futile

The cliffs below Barton look like a battleground, all disturbed soil, exposed pipework, twisted and broken steel sheet pile. What your looking at is a war as old as us, a war waged between man and nature, and a war we're most definitely going to lose. The geology along this stretch of the coast lends itself to slippage, it's all marine clays and sands, topped with gravels, lateral slippage is inevitable. By the 1960's erosion was increasingly threatening/destroying property, and a massive civil engineering project was undertaken to stabilize the cliffs.  It never really worked. Well, it did to a degree, though slippages still occurred, they were less severe. A sort of temporary stalemate was achieved. That changed at the beginning of this century as over a few years the cliffs saw a number of destructive landslides and creeping slippages. It's appeared relatively quiet over the past few years, relatively. I often wonder when traversing this chaotic landscape, what the plan will be when the cliffs start moving with purpose again. Because they will. Same old battle? Or will we concede to the inevitable and retreat from the cliff top. 

Summer Solstice

The Rolling Stones sung 'You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometime you find, you get what you need', word, man! I would've liked a radiant orange sun majestically rising above the horizon this morning, I didn't get that, no, not in the slightest. What I did get though was a thoroughly uplifting spiritual experience, and that was just what I needed.

It was still dark when we arrived at the bridleway leading up towards Badbury Rings, it was raining from a cloud obscured sky, with about half an hour from sunrise. A large multivallate hillfort of three encircling ramparts and accompanying ditches on the edge of Cranborne Chase, Badbury's got a quiet magnificence about it. Badbury doesn't look all that impressive as you approach it, it's very understated, not until you're standing on the upper rampart does the real extent of the site's grandeur manifest; both the site itself and the spectacular views it commands. As we arrived at the eastern entrance the rain abated, bidding 'hail and well met' we made our way through the outer defences, climbed the highest inner rampart and prepared to welcome sunrise. Wood smoke carried on the air from the fire of a small group camped just inside the hillfort; the fire's smoke acted as a pleasant incense. I know many people are against wild camping in general and at sites like Badbury in particular. For me it's all about the respect shown, as long as you camp with respect, leaving as little sign of your presence as possible, I don't see the problem. Archaeologist me believes that if there's the desire and it's undertaken with due respect, our ancient sites should be used and they don't have to only exist in the past, frozen, activity adds patina to the archaeological record, continuing the site's story. It wasn't long before the moment of sunrise arrived, although that moment wasn't apparent without a clock to inform me.  I breathed, centred, ran through some Awens, spent some time in thought, recited the Druids prayer and finally a adapted Druid's vow (The Druid's vow goes thus ''We swear, by peace and love to stand, heart to heart and hand in hand. Mark, oh spirits and hear us now, confirming this, our sacred vow.'', I'd seen Rollo Maughfling  suggesting a change in light of our current restraints, and it seemed to make sense, changing 'hand in hand' to 'mind to mind'). It'd stopped raining by now, and for a while I simply stood, taking in the sights, sounds and feeling of the unfolding day.

As I've already said, it was just what I needed, I felt lighter as we turned for home. Geoff and I made our way down from the high ramparts by undertaking a full circuit of each ring, until we'd spiralled around the hillfort, after a more than 2 mile walk we returned to stand where we'd begun just before dawn, a bid 'hail and farewell' and back down the bridleway. A magical solstice morning. Of course, by the time we'd returned home the sun was beaming; bless her, nature has a sense of humour.

Solstice blessings y'all /|\

Reign's end

The Oak King's reign reaches an end as the Holly King takes the throne. He's reigned through tumultuous days this cycle, we're grateful for his strength. Hail and farewell. And hail and welcome the Holly King, may his reign be sweeter.  Solstice blessings y'all.

The wheel turns

The restrictions of lockdown have had me taking more local walks, which has allowed me to experience the wheel turning far more keenly. Watching the landscape subtly change day by day has been both grounding and illuminating in equal measure.

Lotty

The lotty's coming on nicely; the fruits  of the Goddess and the Green Man's beltane activities are becoming apparent. In the ground (so far) we've got runners, courgettes, tatties, onions, shallots, cabbage, black kale, curly kale, purple sprouting broccoli, calabrese broccoli, leeks and parsnips; in the greenhouse we've tomatoes, cucumber, peppers, chilli peppers; and in the fruit cage we've got strawberries, raspberries, gooseberrys (green and red), blueberries, rhubarb, and blackcurrants.  We've been collecting rhubarb for months, though now we're collecting strawberries, raspberries and gooseberrys too, as well as our first courgette, and the tomatoes wont be too long. Nice.

By bracken and bramble

It's been a bumper season for bracken and bramble, and they're nowhere done yet. Already the common's beginning to choke with them, waist, even shoulder high in places, their uncompromising march is really quite impressive. Brambles are incredibly important, providing as they do food and shelter to countless insects, birds and mammals; and bracken used to be such a valued resource that it's collection was strictly regulated. It's the time of year when the common's paths are narrowing and the lesser will become impassible without intervention. So it's that time of year when I carry secateurs on my walks.

Heath Spotted Orchid

Heath Spotted Orchid's (Dactylorhiza maculata) were a common sight on our this morning whenever we moved beyond the wood's edge. Which was nice to see.

Burley Old

It's been a few weeks since we've managed to get out into the forest, and it felt wonderful to be out amongst the stands this morning. A real tonic. It was tonally flat out and periodically light rains fell, with the sky threatening more, though it doesn't matter how dull the day, the magic of the forest always shines through. The forest evokes a particular magic. I think it's a very personal magic, born of innumerable moments of connection, of experiences and of memories; the forest is an emotional repository, in more than one meaning, also being replete in natural resource (spiritual and material). As we walked I tried to breath as deeply as I could, I was trying to turn our wander into a sort of walking meditation, which I feel was to a degree a success, which was nice. It felt like breathing in the forest, and that felt clean and cool, refreshing and awakening. It was 0730 and everything was still quite, but for the woodland's inhabitants. Wonderful. Stood here surrounded by all this natural magnificence you're aware of an ethereal forest just beyond your grasp, it's one the forests inhabitants access, one I believe our ancestors who'd yet to disconnect accessed, and one we can work towards accessing. A work in progress.

The Death Valley Girls 'Breakthrough' 7'' Vinyl release

The Death Valley Girls have released the first new material since their outstanding 2018 album Darkness Rains, it's a new single, and it's most excellent.  A tasty bi-coloured purple/black 7'' of covers. The A side's an interpretation of Atomic Roosters 1971 'Breakthrough' and on the B side a version of Daniel Johnston's Rock 'n' Roll/EGA.

Their take on Breakthrough is awesome, they've captured the original though definitely added something, it maintains a 70's flavour, though where as the original has a more 60's hangover/early proggy feel; the Death Valley Girls version has a more earthy late glam rock early proto punk feel to it, a touch of subtle menace too, nice. It starts off real slow, even making you wonder whether you've got it on the wrong speed, a repetitive organ chord leads, the drums then announce their presence and boom, in kicks the beat followed by a lovely driving riff, and then the final ingredient, Bonnie's wonderful vocals, I love that voice, at some points appropriately reminiscent of Jett or Quatro. They've more than done this Atomic Rooster track justice. And hey, in these dark times we could do with a breakthrough.

Rock 'n' Roll/EGA is off Daniel Johnson's 1994 album 'Fun'. I'll be honest now, I don't think I've ever heard of Daniel Johnston, so I gave his Rock 'n' Roll/EGA a listen before listening to the Death Valley Girls interpretation.  There are no doubt some similarities between them, I then discovered that the Death Valley Girls gigged with Johnson for a period, that explains that. Again though, Death Valley Girls have washed the track in their own distinctive wash, it's a touch faster, a touch edgier and heavier in a different way to the original, and again it has that 70's glam rock stomp feel to it. Bonnie's voice is perfect for this track too, beautifully reflecting Johnson's original. A really lovely rendition.

Being accomplished musicians (as is manifestly shown by their individual performances) together they create a well crafted and distinctive wall of sound; the Death Valley Girls sound is simultaneously beautifully produced and engagingly raw, I love that, I love a 'real' sound and they've got that by the spade. Check out their chorus harmonies too, groovy. Both these covers do their original sources justice and both go further, ensuring your reaction to both will be ''this is fricking ace!'' And I'll say it again, you've got to love Bonnie's vocals, there's just something so appealing about them, she's a very cool voice. This is, they are, recommended listening, check it out here or here if you're in the UK.

Chewton Bunny

Walkford Brook runs through Chewton Bunny as it nears the sea. A New Forest stream which once served as a moonlit route for smugglers up to the forest plains to their contraband stashes and distribution points. I wonder if brexit will see a return to the days of the smuggler?

Chewton's secrets

Over the years Chewton Common has become fragmented, reduced in scale by successive housing developments, today it remains as various sized and shaped pockets of dispersed common. All these pocket have an official path(s) crossing them, though these paths don't really allow you to appreciate the natural worlds your walking through, to do that you have to follow the folk paths created by.... local folk. When you leave the official path you realize that the common is not homogeneous (something you could do if you stayed on track), it's rather a diverse patchwork of different environments, heath, grassland woodland (deciduous and coniferous) and where streams flow, fingers of wetland. Put some headphones on to block the sounds of man and modernity, and it's easy to imagine yourself walking outside of the urban sprawl.  So lucky to have these natural boltholes literally on my doorstep.

Smeared cloud

The cloud appeared smeared across an azure canvas this morning.

Pyramidal Orchid

Now there's a thing I wasn't expecting to to see today, a Pyramidal Orchid (Anacamptis pyramidalis), beautiful. We were on our way to the lotty when I spied this solitary orchid in a spot I'd never seen them previously, uncharacteristiclly in a rather shady spot too.  I'd usually have been keeping my eye out for the orchids we'd see across the varied landscapes we roam, of course, not this year. So this was a lovely thing to see, a welcome treat. We're blessed with a wide range of orchids around the places we visit, in fact some rather rare ones. I'm hoping to go watch the Summer Solstice sun rise from Badbury Rings, which is always particularly abundant, both in variety and quantity...hoping.

Oxygen by Custard Flux

Psychedelic multi-instrumentalist, artist and The Luck of Eden Hall's front man Gregory Curvey continues his current run of excellence with his project Custard Flux's sensational third outing, the up coming release of Oxygen. Custurd Flux was born when Curvey, a genuine renaissance man, acquired a dilapidated 100 year old Harmonium, restored it and created the marvellous 'Helium' (review), the acoustic solo genesis of the Custard Flux sound. Subsequently there was 'Echo' (review), the evolved and augmented sound of Custard Flux. Both acclaimed albums were immediate runaway successes, with pressings quickly being snapped up. And why wouldn't they, both are gloriously unique aural explorations in psychedelia. Oxygen's a further evolution of the already well established Custard Flux sound, another delightful blend of acoustic/electric instrumentations. Like it's siblings Oxygen shares the fundamental Custard Flux DNA, though again being the consummate psychedelic alchemist with the magpies eye, Curvey's masterfully spliced new elements into it, further augmenting, mutating and evolving it. This is psychedelic music at it's best, it's scope doesn't merely span that genre though, it's extends way further into other genres, creating something truly original and unique. Nothing sounds like Custard Flux, man, nothing.

The crew manifest for this outing of the starship Custard Flux is also evolved. We see the return of the Prettyman brothers, Timothy on double bass and Walt on violin (if you happen to read this Walt, particularly loving your offerings, man), who both contributed so wonderfully to the evolution in sound of Echo, continue their integral contributions to Custard's Flux.  There's also the addition of the cracking guitar(s) of Vito Greco, another musician you'd have heard previously giving wicked performances on Curvey's projects. Finally, there's a fabulous special guest contribution by Psychedelic Furs saxophonist Mars Williams on the titular track, which takes the Custard Flux sound into a wondrously unexpected direction.  As for everything else, and it's a lengthy list, that's Gregory Curvey himself, guitar, vocals, harmonium, harpsichord (really loving that sound by the way), bass, piano, drums and oddities (Curvey's description). A fabulous ensemble of accomplished musicians, I'm sure you'd agree. 

Oxygen's an apt moniker for this outing, its addition making the Custard Flux star burn even brighter. From the eponymous opening track you're instantly aware that the Custard Flux has developed and grown, at moments its bigger sound creates natural allusions to The Luck Of Eden Hall's sound swimming amongst the bubbling stream of Custard Flux. Mind you, that's certainly no criticism or complaint, and it's wholly understandable and natural too. Gregory Curvey's style and aesthetic, and particularly his vocal delivery are unique and instantly recognizable. As you'd imagine from Curvey the attention to detail in the arrangements and production of each and every track are incredible and exquisite, every instrument is deployed, it's qualities exploited, to masterful effect. As for his lyrics they're usually poetic, often pertinent, unequivocally eloquent, and always a genuine pleasure to mull over. Bravo, sir, and kudos to all involved, you've collectively created something magnificent. You should check out Shane Swank's groovy video for Quaratyne off Oxygen, which exemplifies the Custard Flux aesthetic. 

Oxygen's the tastiest serving of Custard Flux so far, perfectly seasoned, it goes down a treat. If you've liked previous Custard Flux releases you'll be loving this, man.  If you've not heard the band before, though you dig original explorations in psychedelia, then, man, I know you're going to dig this and be clambering for copies of the previous releases too. Check it out, it's available in two fabulous multi coloured vinyl pressings or as a digital download. Be quick though if you looking to grab yourself a vinyl copy, only available to pre-order from yesterday (for release date 3rd July) Oxygen is already selling like hot cakes! 

Rhododendron

Exotic and delicate, the flowers of Rhododendrons (Rhododendron ponticum)  create quite a colourful spectacle amongst our native woodland, really rather beautiful, they definitely stand out. I imagine that's why they originally grew popular for the gardens of country estates and parks, and why their  popularity continues today.  Sadly though, I'm bound to cut them down whenever I have the opportunity (in the wild, not in peoples gardens I hasten to add). They're non native and invasive, having been introduced in the 18th century from China (although in recent years there's been the suggestion British ones originated in the Mediterranean), and pose an extreme threat to both our natural flora and fauna. With no threats, few pests or diseases and being prolific reproducers Rhododendrons can rapidly colonize and dominate, their leaves create dense cover blocking out the sun, nothing grows under their canopy, little lives in it and their liking of acid soils means they thrive around here. When I stumble upon them in flower though they stir mixed emotions, initially I think wow nice show, though almost immediately I know they really need to go. 

Minor voyages of rediscovery

Watering and weeding are daily jobs at this time of year and I've been undertaking increasing convoluted cycles to the allotment to ward off the boredom of the short urban rides there and back, and to rebuild my cycling capacity. The rides aren't that long, 14/15 mile round trip, but each has been minor voyage of rediscovery. I used to regularly walk and ride the network of paths, tracks and back roads that criss cross the Avon Valley. I used to know all it's hidden ways and how they all connected, although I've not traversed them for maybe 15 years. Their rediscovery has been a real joy, some have changed nought, whilst others are like different tracks having been renewed and restored; and since we suffered months of flooding a few years back all the ditches and small streams have been cleared too.  Taking the bore or my chore. 

1st of June 1985

Photo ukrockfestivals.com

Thirty five years ago today saw the Battle of the Beanfield, a dark day in Britain's policing history, when a convoy of peaceful travellers and festival folk known as the 'Peace Convoy' suffered a brutal unprovoked attack, subsequent arrest, with many of their homes destroyed by the police as they made their way to the Stonehenge Free Festival site. I wasn't at the Beanfield, though some friends and I were near Stonehenge that day. In brief, in 1985 the annual Stonehenge Free Festival (which in 1984, for me, had been a life changing experience), was banned by the government who defined it as lawless and criminal, this ban was to be enforced viciously by the police. Obviously, those who organized the festival and those attended it had other ideas, and the die was cast for a confrontation in the Wiltshire countryside, the allotted date, the first of June 1985. It was to be a long and memorable day, culminating in an event no one could have imagined, though today I'm focusing on  just one element of it, about an hour and a half of the afternoon, near Stonehenge. 

Weather wise it was day much like today, hot, sunny, airless. Whilst the Convoy made it's way from Savernake, several hundred peaceful proponents of the free festival found themselves corralled by the police on the A303 and half a mile from Stonehenge, on the ridge where the New Kings Barrows are.  It wasn't long before the group decided to flank the police road blocks, leave the road and make for the festival site cross country through the summer fields. There was no sense of what was to come as we reached the field adjacent to the festival stage field.  There were only a handful of police, heavily out numbered by protesters, forming a line between the two fields. We didn't want any conflict and so sat down and chilled in the sun, the mood was upbeat, smiles all round; the line of police were all smiles too, though in hindsight there's might have been more sinister knowing smiles. On the horizon you could see the ancient stones silhouetted against the blue sky. We'd held the field for no time when a column of vans raced along the A360 alongside the stones, this obviously got our attention, especially when we saw the occupants disembark. It was the police, or was it, some were definitely police, though there has long been suspicion that others, possibly military, were involved too, as few had insignia or proper uniform, just boiler suits, some with shields and most with batons.  Naively expecting a stand off situation followed by a negotiation, some of us formed ranks, linking arms in preparation to hold our captured ground. Still, the mood was peaceful. That was all about to change.  The boiler suited mass moved slowly down the slope through the field, though not to reinforce the police line as we'd imagined, they moved directly towards us. As they neared they picked up speed and raised their batons, there was to be no stand off, no discussion, and with no advanced warning or justification they charged into us flailing their batons wildly. It would be fair to say, it was a a bit of a surprise, chaos ensued and any resolve to hold our ground soon withered under their assault. We were quickly forced back up on to the A303, all the time the police lashing out indiscriminately, kicking, pushing and striking with batons, no one was spared, they were out of control. I saw people battered and bloodied, all ages, both sexes, I actually saw a pregnant woman bleeding from her head. It was shocking, I'd never seen people acting like this. At one point back on the A303 I slowed to light up a cigarette and was immediately struck by a succession of baton blows to my sides, 4 or 5 maybe, I crumpled, prepared for more, when a guy shouted 'leave him alone', I turned to see a chap coming to my defence. Of course, he was battered too, before the 'officers' moved on to others. Angry, I approached a senior officer (an inspector), who just told me to 'piss off' and I was forcibly moved on. so I wandered on, hoping to see someone I knew in the chaos. Then right in front of me a man was knocked out of his wheelchair by marauding boiler suited 'officers' (they were merely thugs really), they subsequently beat the folk trying to help the guy up. Thugs, man, nothing more, it's not hard to beat up peaceful 'hippies' in retreat. Then an incensed uniformed police sergeant rushed over, and as I remember it, he physically picked up and threw the 2 thugs doing the beating behind him, yelling at them to fuck off behind the police lines, he then immediately reached in helping get the wheelchair guy up and check him and the others were okay, he apologised and then disappeared back into the fray. This all happened just a couple of hours before the same police/military attacked the Convoy, I've always thought we were their hors d'oeuvre, and the Beanfield their main course, when many of them gorged on violence like pigs.

I was reminded of that particular event today watching the horrible news coming out of America of the public murder of a man by the police, watching vile police/military thugs using legalised violence to attack innocence with impunity. Though I also saw others wearing the same uniforms posting messages, being filmed, decrying the actions of those thugs, and behaving with decency and honour. That day in '85 could've seen me hating the police full stop, and if it wasn't for the actions of that sergeant I surely would have. Division and polarization, the 'them and us' or 'other' narrative, is a key weapon currently being deployed by right wing populists leaders....they've long used it as it's so very effective. Fed the right diet it's an easy route for folk to take (any folk, from whatever perspective), especially with provocation or reinforced through experience or media driven perception, though we mustn't be drawn in to those mental cul-de-sacs. Experience tells us that there are good and bad individuals in most groups or organizations, and if we lose sight of that, we'll have already handed our enemies victory. The good from all quarters must coalesce.