Thursday, 20 December 2018

MISS ELAINEOUS VISITS HACKNEY CITY FARM...

Hackney City Farm is a lovely opportunity for us city folk to find out a bit about country living, which is not actually something I'm unfamiliar with as I was brought up in Norfolk. 
Open for over 20 years, it's quite calm once you enter the farm, and it's hard to believe that you're only feet away from the dulcet, horn-blaring London tones of Hackney Road.

Here is its colourful signage...



Its cafe is called Frizzante and is styled on the Italian tradition of agriturismo, where the food is grown and produced on the premises.  This farm is not actually large enough to supply the restaurant, but their food is sourced from local, small suppliers.




The path down into the farm...


The gate...

The rooster and a chicken.  He was quite quiet on this occasion, although on a previous visit (I've been twice before) he was a bit randy (as well as noisy) and was chasing the hens around!

Here he is again, having a casual stroll.  The last time I visited it started tipping down with rain and the animals- having more sense than me- were inside in the warm.

Although this stable was marked 'Donkeys' there was a sheep in here and it didn't want to be photographed- so it showed me its bum... 

In the opposite pen the sheep were slightly kinder...

Chicken coop...

A hygiene warning... 

A gaggle of geese...

Ducks 'n' geese...

Ducks 'n' drakes 'n' geese...

Piglets.  This is the first time I've ever seen pigs at this farm.  Usually their pen and sty is empty... but the first time I came there was a suspicious waft of country sausages coming from the cafe...

Fully grown pigs in their sty...

Apparently, the animals are rotated and stay at this farm and a farm in Kent...

I'm sure Hackney City Farm don't slaughter their own animals, but we all know what their fate eventually is.  Maybe there's a reason why I fancied veggie burgers for dinner that evening...

The only donkey I saw.  Apparently there are two...

Donkey story...

Was this Larry or Clover?  One ear pricked up when I called Larry...

...And two when I called Clover.  So I called Larry again, and she shook an ear, so we'll go with Clover.  She treated me to a very loud hee-haw!

Nosey geese...

These geese were very friendly and sociable.  Well, we are near to Christmas so maybe they wanted to take out some insurance to make sure they didn't end up on a plate...

High on a hill was a lonely goat...

But he went and joined his friends, the sheep...

Then they went and joined the donkey for a group hug...

The goat used this fence as his beard scratching post...

Aarrgghh, a stile!  Thankfully, I didn't have to climb this one!

Here's my recent stile experience, visiting Hever Castle in Kent last month...

Read all about it via this link.  We got to meet some sheep on the way there as well:-

Some fungi growing by a tree.  I did try and photograph a squirrel running around foraging for nuts but I was too slow.  Damn! 

They often keep rabbits and guinea pigs at the farm- which I have seen before- but they weren't there this time.  This is the washing area, on the way out...

A cute piggy bank plant pot...

Their garden  reminds me of a traditional allotment- which is what I suppose it is...

Apparently, they keep bees- but there was no evidence of our stripy friends today.  I think it was maybe a bit too cold for them!

The honey from the bees is sold in their little shop (which was, sadly, closed on the day I visited.)

You can also buy fresh eggs and vegetables, as well as food made by local producers and toys and gifts in the shop.

The farm is free to visit...

This place is certainly worth an hour of your time, but experience has taught me to go on a dry day, otherwise the animals tend to hibernate!

TTFN

The Miss Elaineous

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


Friday, 7 December 2018

WISH HER SAFE AT HOME by STEPHEN BENATAR


WISH HER SAFE AT HOME
BY STEPHEN BENATAR



THE BLURB:-
Rachel Waring is deliriously happy.  Out of nowhere, a great-aunt leaves her a Georgian mansion in another city- and she sheds her old life without delay.  Gone is her dull administrative job, her mousy wardrobe, her downer of a room-mate.   She will live as a woman of leisure, devoted to beauty, creativity, expression and love.  Once installed in her new quarters, Rachel plants a garden, takes up writing, and impresses everyone she meets with her optimism.  But as Rachel sings and jokes the days away, her neighbours wonder if she might be taking her transformation just a bit too far.

In Wish Her Safe At Home, Stephen Benatar finds humour and horror in the shifting region between elation and mania.   His heroine could be the next-door neighbour of the Beales of Grey Gardens or the sister to Jane Gardam's oddball protagonists, but she has an ebullient charm of her own.

THE REALITY:-
Jesus, Mary and Joseph, was I glad to finish this book!   With thick pages that made it appear more than it actually was, and at only 263 pages long, this- thankfully- didn't take that long to do.   It was certainly not a gripping read and at times I even dreaded picking it up.   I was speed-reading parts towards the end to hurry up the process, but I still got the jist of Rachel's descent into mania.

I think part of the problem was that I read the introduction so I knew what was going to happen, which stole away my element of surprise (essential for turning a novel into a page-turner).  That is totally my fault, but in future I'll read any intro after reading the book. On the other hand, it does explain what is actually going on when Rachel does get confused between reality and fantasy and turns into one weird woman.  Not that that was too hard to pick up on- I just found the character irritating.

Rachel is my age and yet I couldn't relate to her.   Like me, she has never married or had children, but for her it seems to be very much a cause for regret.   Me, I like my freedom!  She is also a virgin... Nope, I got rid of mine at fourteen and am glad I did so.  She's also never really had a boyfriend, apart from her first abortive attempt with Tony.  Nope, I can't relate there- I have a partner and he's hardly the first!😉  She's also been through the menopause.  A definite no there- I'm sitting here bleeding to death!  Maybe it's because she's from a different era; that being 1981.  I mean, for Pete's sake, did women really wear hats or drink sherry at her age in that time?  There are elements of a sad old lady in her, but I think that's the point and that, up until now, she's never really had much of a life, what with a domineering mother and a not very likeable flatmate forever on her case.  It's such a shame she was never able to truly stick up for herself.

The male author does, I think, do well to try and explore the psyche of the opposite sex, but the story did not grip me. I think we all have the element of the dreamer in us (I certainly do- part of a writer's world is making things up, after all.)  Rachel would have done well to put her thoughts on to paper and actually complete her novel, as opposed to letting her imaginations run riot in her head.   She's also have done well to get a job, not only to keep the wolf from the door but to help keep herself grounded.   And she'd DEFINITELY have done well to get herself a man and get some good hard cock.   These might- just might- have helped her to retain her sanity, as she didn't come across as someone who's beyond repair, and who was destined to go ga-ga from birth.

On a plus note, I've never heard of 'Beales of Grey Gardens' or 'Jane Gardam's oddball protagonists' so will check them out.  This book had some interesting characters and a pleasant enough setting but it also had a rubbish title and, unfortunately, the story didn't do much for me.






Saturday, 1 December 2018

MISS ELAINEOUS VISITS THE LONDON MITHRAEUM...

I found out about the London Mithraeum after watching a TV programme, entitled Bacchus Uncovered: Ancient God Of Ecstasy, whilst lying on the sofa with the lurgy.
Bacchus was the Roman god of agriculture, wine and fertility.  He was essentially copied from his Greek equivalent, Dionysus, but he is the pleasure god we modern people refer to when describing uninhibited or drunken revelry- as in bacchanalia.
Of course, such behaviour would appeal to a fun-loving, wine-supping creature such as myself!

The programme mentioned the Temple of Bacchus at Painshill Park, in Surrey, which is newly re-built and which I have visited...

...And brought to mind London's Roman Amphitheatre, which dates back to AD43, and which I also saw not too long ago...

...But I'd never heard of the London Mithraeum, which is in the vicinity of the above amphitheatre and free to visit as long as you book beforehand.

The temple site was uncovered between 1952 and 1954 and, as a compromise between re-designing the intended building- Bucklersbury House- and abandoning the historical site, the ruin was dismantled, re-assembled and moved 100 metres.  The reconstruction was not accurate and the materials used drew criticism.
Following the demolition of Bucklersbury house, in 2007 the Bloomberg company purchased the Walbrook Square project and restored the Mithraeum to its original site, 7 metres below ground and just a few metres west of its original position.  It opened in November 2017 and sits below the building which serves as Bloomberg's European headquarters.

This temple to the Roman god Mithras (or perhaps dedicated jointly with other deities favoured by Roman military men) was built in the 3rd century AD and lies on the site of the long-gone London river, the Walbrook.
The lost cult of Mithras first appeared in the 1st century AD and spread over Europe during the next 300 years, attracting the likes of imperial generals, soldiers and merchants.  The temples- which were often constructed below ground- were dark, windowless and mysterious.  The mythological scene of killing a bull within a cave- a tauroctony- was at the heart of this strictly male-only cult.
The cult was probably re-dedicated to Bacchus in the 4th century- hence its inclusion in that particular TV programme.

It was a drizzly and dank day when we emerged from Bank Tube station.  Just around the corner from the Bloomberg building is this weird, green affair, which is sculpted from painted bronze.  It is part of a trio of fountains by Spanish artist Cristina Inglesias and represents wellsprings and roots.  The original river Walbrook is now part of the London sewer system.

At ground level inside the Walbrook building is this installation by Pablo Bronstein.  It is called London in its Original Splendour (2018) and is an effective abstract collaboration of well-known London buildings.



You turn to this very simple but well-executed display wall of items uncovered from the site.  There are accompanying tablets available, so that you can hone in on the details and history of individual pieces...

This wooden sign is believed to be the oldest piece of writing with London's given name on it...

Close-up of the wall...

Being a shoe fetishist, I just HAD to examine this Roman shoe...😉

You walk a floor down, to encounter this information (basically, what I've written about above...)

Then you enter this dark room with ghostly, informative stands and sculptures...

A few steps downstairs and you are now 7 metres below ground.  This is the original situation of the Mithraeum- the Romans didn't live below ground; this was ground level in their day.  Population and development mean that the ground level naturally rises.

Here is the Mithraeum plan...

The first part of the show is interactive, with low level light and the supposed sounds of a ritual meeting taking place two thousand years ago.

It is actually very realistic.  Then the lights get brighter and you can walk around the Mithraeum and take pictures, albeit without a flash.

View from the back of the dais...

Plinth steps...

The glass floor as you enter...

These lights give the impression of spooky doors...

It's quite a good experience and certainly worth half an hour of your time.

We walked out and heard the sound of drums, as the procession of the annual Boar's Head Ceremony was arriving at Mansion House, home of the Lord Mayor of the City of London.
This dates back to 1343, when the monks living in the vicinity were tired of the local butchers depositing offal on the public highway.  The butchers were granted a small patch of land for cleaning and preparing their meat, and the cost was that a pig's head had to be delivered to the Mayor of London every Christmas- forever.
The people in the fur trimmed robes are from the Worshipful Company of Butchers and a few hangers-on are joining in behind them.  It was a real treat to run into this as I'd never even heard of it before.  Nowadays, the boar's head is made of paper mache- the real thing having gone in before- and a feast takes place which includes the City's dignitaries.  Riff-raff are certainly not invited!

This was a bit of a rushed photo, so it's not great...

We had a bit of time to kill so we made our way past St Paul's Cathedral...

...And into the Museum of London...

...Which has this quite picturesque 'sunken' (it's actually ground level, but we were now a level up, so it's illusory) garden...

I didn't really photograph much, as there's a lot to see and we wanted to have a simple stroll through.  This space is also worth an hour of your time.
I did, though, have to take a picture of these restoration shoes...

This lovely pergola in the 'garden' feature reminded me of the Saloon in the Brighton Pavilion...

After the obligatory Pizza Express dinner (which included a nice glass of bacchanalian red...😉) we moved on to our Barbican exhibition, entitled Modern Couples.  It explores creative relationships in art.
I couldn't take photos in here, but here's a PDF of the most evocative piece I saw.
Au Bord de la Mer (The Edge of the Sea), is a 1914 self-portrait by Romaine Brooks (1874-1970).
She was an American lesbian who was involved with writer Natalie Barney.  I like this painting as the subject's eyes draw you in and make you want to work out what's going on in her mind.  She looks unhappy; bewildered, questioning, caught unawares and she appears to be enquiring as to why you're intruding by regarding her.  Apparently, she had a very troubled childhood.

We had to finish the day with a Vain Old Tart photograph...

You'll be pleased to know that my trusty, favourite, eleven-year-old pink sparkly cardi finally died a death and had its funeral in the bin...😢

We went back to the exhibition a couple of weeks later, as our particular tickets allowed us to do so.  After another pizza meal (this time at Pizza Union) I took a couple of photos of the Barbican complex.  I love its Brutalist architecture but I do think the whole place reminds me of a council estate.  Apparently, this Utopian estate was never that, but it sprang up from an area devastated by Second World War bomb damage into flats which were designed to be rent subsidised for essential workers.

Personally, I'm a real urban girl and I love it!

St Giles' Cripplegate Church.  Many moons ago, I had a keen semi-professional photographer boyfriend who attended a monthly photo club in the basement.  It is thought that there has been a church on this site for one thousand years.

Before this visit, I took the time to wander up Fournier Street, in Spitalfields.  Here, artists Gilbert & George own numbers 8 and 12.  They live in one- number 12- and have restored their original home since 1968- number 8- to its 18th century splendour.  They gained additional studio space by acquiring land that stretches across the back of number 10.

Number 8 Fournier Street...

Number 12 Fournier Street...

I regard these two interesting gentlemen as my gay dads- we certainly share the same foul mouths!  I've never understood what the big fuss is about swearing.  Mind you, that comes from being brought up in a house where there was no such genteel thing as "The wrong end of the stick..."  Oh no, my mother always called it, 'The shitty end of the stick...!'
😂😂😂😂


TTFN

The Miss Elaineous

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXXXX
X