Fifth series, episode 2
All five series are available here on the HebWeb.
This episode includes flood defences, parking matters, depleted peat and Lucifer's birthday. There's an old film reviewed, an old tale retold, some sages annoyed and a Joy! I enjoyed.
In the bar room
I was reading my paper and sipping my half of Heart and Soul when the man at the table next to me stood up to greet his son and his son's partner before getting their drinks. After a brief catch up, the dad asked the young couple, "Did you see Trump and his Vice President attacking President Zelensky?"
The woman said, "We don't watch the news much, to be honest."
His son chipped in, "Yeah, but we know about Trump."
Dad said, "Well, you know Russia invaded Ukraine?"
The woman said, "No!"
The son asked, "When?"
Just then my own son arrived. Over a half, Jude told me he has the same birthday as Lucifer in Rosemary's Baby. When I laughed, he added, "And Kathy Bates, Elon Musk and Henry the 8th!
So, I reminded him that Kathy Bates wasn't a bad person; as an actress it was her job to break a leg.
The Shining
That evening three of us watched this 1980 film. It was the first time I'd seen it. Sure enough, I found it suitably disturbing and scary, and not just because of the hotel décor. There was a disturbed young lad being hounded by a recovering alcoholic demented writer dad (Ok, I only answer to the last two of those).
Turning the news on later, I thought how useful it might be if Trump exhibited Jack Nicholson's crazed expressions when he said dumb stuff such as, "Tariff is my favourite word," "We need to annex Greenland," and "Ukraine invaded Russia." When Biden lost the thread, people eventually got the message and he was replaced. So it would be easier to get rid of Trump if his smug mug contorted into Jack Nicholson's grotesque gurning when he holds forth.
Mind you, if Trump was forced to step down, we'd get Vance in his place.
Defending the defences
Anyone who has witnessed the full power of a flood thundering through this narrow valley, carrying trees and vans along, smashing into bridges, blacking out the brightest, busiest parts of town and filling cellars, shops, living rooms, will be thankful for the money to be spent on flood defences.
Anyone who has hurriedly hauled furniture upstairs, waded through speeding, foul, chest high waters in pelting rain, dragged bins back from their journey towards Mytholmroyd, seen vehicles swamped and written off, will scorn those who suggest the flood alleviation scheme is a waste of money.
Some online sages have suggested clearing leaves from drains and fallen branches from rivers is all we need. Perhaps they didn't live down in the valley during our previous floods. One claimed, 'Nothing has been done to protect Market Street,' seemingly unaware of all the work that has been done upstream to stem and slow flood waters.
The world keeps warming up and more flooding seems inevitable, but at least in 2024 two floods were averted that would have ruined lives and livelihoods in previous years. Fewer floods mean less misery, and last year shopkeepers, as well as homeowners, were protected by our flood defences. Living between the canal and river, I'm thankful that cellars and ground floor rooms have been made more resilient since 2015.
Mind, if a giant windfarm is built on Walshaw, the millions spent on flood defences could all be wasted.
For Peat's sake
In The Guardian, Damian Carrington explained that peat occupies just 3% of all land, but contains more carbon than all the world's forests put together.
"However, farmers and miners are draining peatlands, releasing so much CO2, that if they were a country, they would be the fourth biggest polluter in the world after China, the US and India."
Heatwaves and droughts are worsening the threat to peatlands. Our local Walshaw peatlands were laid down over five thousand years, but in recent years they've been damaged by burning, digging of drainage dykes to dry them out and laying of new roads to enable the mass shooting of grouse and imported fowl.
And now the peatland that protects us faces its greatest threat. It took a Conservative MP to raise the issue of the proposed Walshaw Windfarm in the Commons. But Lucy Powell, in giving the government's response, seemed unaware about the special nature of the Walshaw site.
Parking matters
It's understandable that people worry about the threat to their businesses from the flood defence measures. The park is going to be taken over by heavy vehicles, football matches will go elsewhere and special events might be affected. There's a danger we might temporarily lose what is special about Hebden Bridge. Some parking capacity will disappear. It's frustrating, and polluting, for locals and tourists to ride around town in search of a parking space. Although, I reckon more tourists are arriving by train these days.
But those of us carping about parking should include health in our discussions.
Since the advent of increased charges for travelling in London and traffic calming measures were introduced, it's reckoned 4,000 premature deaths due to roadside pollution have been avoided. The science says that limiting vehicle access to Hebden Bridge will save lives.
JOY at the Trades
Funny, adroit, sincere, honest about domestic struggles to which we all could relate, Luke Wright's Joy certainly connected with his audience. His poems were more about bad times than good, proving the old adage that happiness is harder to write about than sorrow, but he shared his everyday pleasures too. And he made us laugh.
Your life in their hands
We've been gripped by true life hospital dramas. Last week, Surgeons: at the Edge of Life was literally hands on, when a lovely old guy, suffering from a rare tissue disorder and a failing heart, was saved by a medic's thumb temporarily pressed on a hole in his aorta. Just as we thought it was all over, the computer screens said NO! Air bubbles had got into a valve the team had just repaired. But Edinburgh surgeon, Renzo Pessotto stayed calm, held his patient's beating heart in his fist and gently squeezed the air bubbles out.
How a Husband Weaned His Wife From Fairy Tales
Having loved Russian novels over the years, I wonder who is writing them these days? Hopefully, folk tales are still being told.
An innkeeper's wife who liked telling tales would only allow lodgers to stay in the inn if they also told stories. But the husband lost income because few people remembered the ancient tales. One night an old man came to the Inn who was cold and hungry and the innkeeper said, "I cannot let you stay unless you can tell stories."
The man said, "When I was a child my mother loved to tell me stories, but then my father came back from the war and ordered my mother to stop telling me fairy tales."
So the innkeeper said, "Well, I will let you stay, even if you tell your tales badly. In fact old man, the worse the better. I want my wife to hate those old stories."
The innkeeper called for his wife and said the new lodger would tell her stories, as long as she did not interrupt him. So the three sat round the fire and the old man started his tale.
"Blue Tit was tweeting and Crow said, 'Telltale Tit, your tongue I'll split and all the other animals will have a slice of it.'
Blue Tit was tweeting and Crow said, 'Telltale Tit, your tongue I'll split and all the other animals will have a slice of it."
Blue Tit was tweeting and Crow said, 'Telltale Tit, your tongue I'll split and all the other' …"
"What kind of story is this?" said the woman. "He keeps repeating himself."
"How dare you interrupt me!" the old man said.
At which, the innkeeper's husband leapt up and thrashed his wife, shouting, " I've told you not to interrupt him!"
So the old man was allowed to lodge at the inn and the woman did not ask him to tell any more stories. Sometimes she remembered the old tales in her dreams but she never repeated them when she woke up.
Adapted from a Russian tale collected in Angela Carter's Book of Fairy Tales (Virago, 2005).
Readers write
Re Episode 1
Sue James (from Suffolk) once of the Wirral. "Great read, thank you George"
Dave Jackson, (Shropshire): once of Wirral A.C. "Excellent as usual."
Christina Longden: an author who lives in Kirklees.
Loved this. PW 'turn the music down.' And the end quote re morons as Presidents.
Tony Goodall from 'bucolic Cragg Vale.'
Thank you for the apt Mencken quote. Alastair Cooke held him in reverence.
To treck or trek? I favour the latter – think sturdy Dutch settlers grimly heading north from the Cape, sun blistered, unsmiling and taking potshots at owt that moved.
Dear Tony: due to the artic temperatures in York, in February, I preferred the Urban Dictionary word trecked, a combo of wrecked and trekked! Perhaps I'll adopt your word when we hit blazing (not literally I hope) summer.
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