“We went down into the silent garden. Dawn is the time when nothing breathes, the hour of silence. Everything is transfixed, only the light moves.” Leonora Carrington
After decades of Saturday afternoons in the gift of the weather Gods, I still open the curtains with hope each weekend. The vegetable plot needs a healthy mix of rain and shine, yet rain rarely stops play.
If it pours, there is always the shed for tactics, blackboard at the ready. A pot of tea – a staple of past, present and future – and a slice of cake from Mrs Day’s emporium a must.
At the allotments over the back wall, there is the weekly gathering with Philosopher Billy and Greenfingers. The other week, a local commented wryly “it’s like Last of the Summer Wine!” How he wished there had been a spare seat.
A cocktail of rain, shine and heat has prompted a growth surge. Those who think this is now time to sit back and enjoy the spoils could not be further from the truth.
Crops need cropping and weeds grow faster than the local cannabis farms down in the City of Culture. We wandered like landed gentry sampling blackberries, blueberries, gooseberries and strawberries.
The good life indeed.
Is It Me?
Peace and quiet rarely last these days largely down to a proliferation of yappers and woofers; it is a modern-day curse. I don’t object to pets but we should not have days punctuated by endless barking. Why get a dog if you cannot take care of it?
So I have engaged officialdom and duly filled in my dog noise diary.
Only a local authority could create a document that will doubtless need several departmental stamps before they realise it is me and shred it. I await my visit from a downtrodden, lanyard-laden, clipboard-wielding lifer.
Enquiring of progress, I casually mentioned I was simultaneously loading my Winchester; there was silence on the line. These people can be humourless. Eventually, I received a voicemail informing me that they were inundated with such complaints; get in line.
What happened to the right to sit in your garden and listen to nothing? As if dogs were bad enough, England lost a football match the other night; cue the skies lighting up like Gaza.
The other day a wedding convoy was behind me, expensive cars pimped up like a Geordie hen party, driven by morons with single-digit IQs, revving engines as if on the grid of a Grand Prix.
Is it wrong to covet a quiet life?
The Law of Supply & Demand
Cllr Susan Hinchcliffe, has referred to planned cuts to train services from Bradford to London by the government-owned LNER as an “outrage”. So went the following article.
A basic study of GCSE Economics and the rules of supply and demand is advised.
Tumbleweed
The people who want to stop Covid killing Bradfords nightlife ran the headline. Sadly it died decades ago, well before Covid.
Every month I give blood on Manor Row, the Oxford Street of Bradford nightlife decades ago. I worked in Silks nightclub for two winters and loved the crack and the people; Bradford was buzzing and had a confident strut.
Now, I park in the retail park, wander past the discount empires, walk up past tent city under the arches to find Manor Row deserted. The Manor, JBs, Cloud Nine, The Courthouse plus numerous others all a memory.
Who could forget the sticky carpets of the Last Chance Hotel (VIPs) or chancing the Salmonella Van if you could not afford a curry? It was far from perfect but it fizzed.
But it is never coming back because the young have given up on Bradford and, in truth, they don’t love pubs and clubs as much as we did anyway. Those with a few quid go to Leeds; those a bit older stay on the fringes.
The last throw of the dice is if Bradford Live can attract new footfall as Leeds Arena did to the area around the Merrion Centre.
To enable this the centre has to be policed strongly because people, especially women, do not feel safe – which is why they do not go now. Those in denial of such realities are clueless.
Special Offer
Following the success of last years birdbox, where a family of tits has been happily squatting, I now give you my Hedgehog Eco-Cabin.
Complete with grass roof, tiled solar panel and private driveway, book early to avoid disappointment.
Double Standards
Throughout the Euros, Bradford Council refused to show games on the large screen in City Park; sensible enough given where we are once again with Covid here.
This Friday, a number of speakers are to appear at a Stop The War rally in Bradford…in City Park.
M.TLeahy says
Unfortunate choice of words , Silks nightclub & “ you loved the crack “!
You did drugs ?
Oh dear.
Steve says
For the record…never ever.
Lord Frazer Irwin says
I understand how you feel about the wish to enjoy peace with nature. When I moved to Oliclankey near fifty years ago folk walked everywhere, they stopped for a natter, the odd passing vehicle broke the silence which was golden in those far off days. Today the noise begins around four in the morning gradually rising to motorway levels.
Given the number of Friends of groups hereabouts I do wonder why we haven’t a Friends of Silence. As for yapping animals I find Whitaker’s Yorkshire Toffee has the desired effect of gluing the offending animal’s jaws together. The same goes for its owner.
Hapless seems hopeless at grasping the simple laws of supply and/or demand. Now if Forster Square was on a main line I could understand her wailing but it’s not. That goes through Shipley and beyond. Accept it for what it is. Bradford is on the end of a line where trains terminate.