Identification

Identification

Busy in the front garden the other day, we came across a shy little beastie. It wasn’t easy to capture a photograph, as it was intent on getting away to shelter as quickly as possible. It seemed not to like the light, or to be able or willing to take flight.

We think it was associated with the hazel tree, as we found it under the pruned branches and leaves we were picking up to put in the green waste bin.

We assumed it was a moth, but it has proved impossible to identify. I’ve used all sorts of online keys, and a naturalist’s app on my iPhone. It has long antennae and striped legs, but strangely abbreviated wings, or perhaps it’s an unnaturally elongated body.

So far, it has identified as a Vapourer, a female Winter moth, or a Yellow Underwings. Of those three, I’m most inclined to see it as a Vapourer, or Rusty Tussock (Orygia antiqua) female. I’m happy to be proved wrong, though.

I wrote about the Vapourer here in 2019.

It’s called the Vapourer, because newly-emerged females emit  pheromones or ‘vapours’ to attract males to mate. The females then lay eggs on the cocoons from which they have hatched and die shortly afterwards. It’s not a very fulfilling life, really.

Heath Robinson

 

Heath Robinson

'How to Rise with the Sun'

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

I used the expression ‘Heath Robinson’ on my blog the other day. I didn’t give it a second thought until someone, DB, I believe, said he had looked it up to see if it meant what he thought it meant.

Heath Robinson is a British aphorism to describe a solution or gadget that is over-engineered for the task in hand, and completely impractical. A simple solution is overlooked for a far more complex improvised one.

More frequently, it describes a temporary, often ingenious solution to a problem, using whatever might come to hand in the vicinity. It’s usually rickety and prone to failure if not incessantly tinkered with.

First lessons in walking
Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

The phrase originates from William Heath Robinson (1872-1944) He was an English cartoonist and book illustrator from a family of artists and became well-known for his capricious drawings of impossibly complicated machines. For instance, a simple device like an egg whisk might employ winches, switches, cogs, and lengths of knotted string. Another could show a machine driven by steam from a kettle heated by candles.

The First World War (1914-1918) inspired Heath Robinson to imagine a series of bizarre secret contraptions for the opposing armies to out-manoeuvre each other. Among the many cartoons he produced was one for ‘an armoured bayonet curler.’

The phrase ‘Heath Robinson’ became a part of British armed forces slang during WWI and thereafter was adopted by the general public. In WWII (1939-1945) codebreakers at Bletchley Park called one of the early computing machines ‘the Heath Robinson.’

The American equivalent of Heath Robinson is Rube Goldberg, while the Danes have Storm Petersen.

Nick Park’s inventions in the ‘Wallace and Gromit’ films are worthy descendants of Heath Robinson.

Gardening in early June

 

Gardening in early June

                            Our 'Jack and the Beanstalk' climbing rose.

We hacked down our very tall climbing rose and it’s desperate to reach the heavens again, but we shall keep it short. It has a bud on it, which will produce a pink rose. I don’t know the name of it, but call it 'Jack and the Beanstalk.'

I worked around, removing flowers growing in the wrong place – weeds to the uninitiated! – and pulling out the last straggling forget-me-nots. Raspberries and strawberries are ripening, but there’s no colour on the blueberries. The cherries have been collected, the plums and apples, apricots and damsons are promising, while the poor pears struggle along but rarely deliver.

I admired the tiny white flowers on the goosegrass (Galium aparine) as I pulled it up. It tries so hard, and spreads everywhere. It is also known as cleavers, sticky willy, catchweed, sweetheart, bedstraw, and robin-run-the-hedge. I’ve always known it as goosegrass or cleavers. It’s a favoured food for geese and chickens, hence its common name of goosegrass.

The plant, which belongs in the same family as coffee, is more interesting than it first appears. It can be cooked as a vegetable before the fruits ripen, but is not so appetising if eaten raw, because of the little hooks that cover the leaves and stems. The burrs which follow the flowers hold two or three seeds. They also have hooks which attach to passing animals or humans, thus being easily distributed. The fruits have often been used as a coffee substitute and contain less caffeine than coffee beans. The leaves can be dried and used to make tea, and the roots produce a red dye.

As a bedstraw, it was used to stuff mattresses.

In Ancient Greece shepherds made sieves from the stems of cleavers to strain milk, a practice that was also followed in Sweden.

Having plucked out much of the plant, and knowing there will be more later, I left the garden, but not before looking at some more roses. Somehow, they’ve all managed to hide away.

'Warm Welcome' should really be grown in our front garden, but is tucked away on an arch at the end of our back garden.

‘Warm Welcome’ is a semi-evergreen climbing rose. It’s sweetly scented and a vibrant orange-red. 

                                    'Zéphirine Drouhin'

Growing near it is a deep pink old Bourbon rose, 'Zéphirine Drouhin’, which has a rich, intoxicating scent and very few thorns.

Another rose, white and freely-flowering, is skulking behind the Mahonia Japonica. I don’t know its name. 

The Generous Gardener

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

The final one is a pink David Austin climbing rose called ‘The Generous Gardener’, which has a strong, sweet fragrance. It was named to mark the 75^th anniversary of the National Garden Scheme.

The National Garden Scheme was founded in 1927 to make private gardens accessible to the public. For the privilege of visiting a splendid garden, visitors pay an entrance fee which goes to a variety of charities, including Macmillan Cancer Support, Hospice UK and Parkinsons UK. In 2025, donations amounted to nearly £3.9 million.

Anyone can open their garden for charity, and the gardens may be anything from a community allotment to a cottage garden, from rolling acres to wildlife havens, from seaside to town.

I know someone who opens her garden for one or two days each year. It’s a lot of work, but so worthwhile. It is not something I shall ever do, however.

    

Answers to further nonsense

 

Answers to further nonsense

Q: Detective Smith finds Romeo and Juliet dead on the kitchen floor, surrounded by broken glass. There were no signs of a break-in. What killed them?

A: Romeo and Juliet are goldfish. Their bowl was knocked over by the family dog. They died of asphyxiation.

Q: Five men were travelling along a lane when it began to rain. Four of the men got wet but the fifth didn’t, though he had no umbrella, hat or raincoat. How could that be?

A: The four men were pallbearers. The fifth man was in the coffin.

Q: A woman watched her husband plunge to his death. Later she found him working in the garden. How was that possible?

A: The woman’s husband was a stuntman and she had been watching him in a film.

Q: A carrot, a woollen scarf and five buttons were found on the ground in a field. If no-one put them there, how did they get there?

A: They were left behind after a snowman thawed.

Q: A man stopped his car outside a hotel and immediately realised he was bankrupt. How did he know?     

A: He was playing Monopoly. 

Q: A carton containing six eggs is on the table. Six people take one egg each. How is it that one egg is left in the carton?  

A: The sixth person took the carton with the last egg in it.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

Further nonsense

 

Further nonsense

1: Detective Smith finds Romeo and Juliet dead on the kitchen floor, surrounded by broken glass. There were no signs of a break-in. What killed them?

2: Five men were travelling along a lane when it began to rain. Four of the men got wet but the fifth didn’t, though he had no umbrella, hat or raincoat. How could that be?

3: A woman watched her husband plunge to his death. Later she found him working in the garden. How was that possible?

4: A carrot, a woollen scarf and five buttons were found on the ground in a field. If no-one put them there, how did they get there?

5: A man stopped his car outside a hotel and immediately realized he was bankrupt. How did he know?       

6: A carton containing six eggs is on the table. Six people take one egg each. How is it that one egg is left in the carton?

 

Answers tomorrow.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

 

It beggars belief

 

It beggars belief

To beggar belief, sometimes expressed as to beggar description, means that some thing or circumstance is so extraordinary that it is unbelievable, or incomprehensible, or outrageous.

The phrase originated in the 17^th century, when ‘beggar’ meant to impoverish or reduce to beggary. It was first used by Shakespeare in ‘Antony and Cleopatra,’ written in 1606. In Act II, Scene II, Enobarbus describes the stunning beauty of Cleopatra as she sails the River Cydnus in her golden barge.

‘For her own person,
It beggared all description; she did lie
In her pavilion – cloth-of-gold, of tissue -
O’erpicturing that Venus where we see
The fancy outwork Nature.’

I am not in the mood to rant today, but too many things in daily life beggar belief.

Tugboats

 

Tugboats

                    Norwegian ocean-going tugs used for towing oil rigs

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

If lifeboats are the heroes of the maritime world, tugs are the work horses. Without them, large vessels cannot traverse narrow waterways or dock safely.

                 Container ship approaching Hamburg, accompanied by tugs

                                            Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

I’ve always thought of tugboats as working with bulky container ships, pushing and pulling, manoeuvring them round acute angles into ports and nudging them onto moorings. 

Tug 'Sir Bevois' guiding the container ship 'Maersk Paris' down river
Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Otherwise, I’ve seen them accompanying those moving blocks of flats called cruise ships, or hauling barges carrying heavy loads along busy rivers.

US submarine being towed into the Elizabeth River

                                    Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

I didn’t realise until recently that they are also used to assist submarines entering port, though of course it makes sense.  Submarines on the surface are not easy to manoeuvre and cannot reverse without risking damage. Tugs help them to rotate and also act as brakes.

Tottering-by-Gently

 

Tottering-by-Gently

                                        Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Tottering-by-Gently is the name of a rose developed by David Austin Roses to celebrate the 25^th anniversary in 2018 of Annie Tempest’s cartoon strip. In the cartoon, Lord and Lady Tottering live a gentle country life in their crumbling ancestral home at Tottering Hall in the village of Tottering-by-Gently. With their black Labrador, Slobber, and working cocker spaniel, Scribble, they enjoy a life that is familiar to many as stereotypical, if somewhat dated, of upper-class Britain. 

Daffy, Lady Tottering, often portrayed in green wellies and pearls, with a glass or bottle of something alcoholic close by, is a keen observer and commentator on the foibles of life. 

Dicky, Lord Tottering, is a bluff old buffer, a long-suffering husband, and a ‘thoroughly decent type.’ 

Together, they muddle through a slightly politically incorrect life, dogs at their heels or on their chairs, pondering the vagaries of the modern world.

The David Austin family has been breeding roses in Shropshire since 1961. The original concept was to combine the perfume and beauty of old roses with the vigour and repeat flowering of modern roses. 

The Tottering-by-Gently rose is a repeat-flowering shrub rose, attracting bees with its single yellow flowers. The roses have a light fragrance and are followed by hips. It is a very forgiving rose, able to thrive in all soils, in all aspects, and in full or partial sun. It can be grown as a single specimen or as a hedge.

 

Research

 

Research

An article in this morning’s The Times has reported how errors can affect the findings in scientific studies. Attention to detail is vital, or results are skewed.

Sholto David is a British scientist and blogger with a PhD in cellular and molecular biology. He has achieved recognition for discovering flaws in more than 2,000 studies. Errors have appeared in published papers from universities including Oxford, Cambridge, and Stanford.

Separately, Dr David pointed out anomalies in thirty papers published by the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute (DFCI). DFCI is a cancer treatment and research centre in Boston, Massachusetts, reputed to be the sixth best cancer hospital in the US.

Sholto David received more than $2.5 million, or 17.5% of the $15 million the institute paid against allegations of violating the False Claims Act (fraud) between 2014 and 2024.

Cherry tree

 

Cherry tree

                                                    April blossom

We have a cherry tree in the garden which was heavy with blossom in early spring and is now full of ripening cherries. I looked at it yesterday to see if there were any ready to be picked. There were a few near the top of the 12’ tree that looked ripe, but none closer to hand.

This morning, I watched a large magpie fly into the tree and a few moments later it flew out with a cherry in its beak. I was immeasurably delighted to see that. One of the purposes of growing fruit in the garden is to encourage wildlife. There’s enough for all to share. I have not seen it return, though I haven’t sat with my eyes fixed on the garden all day.

I was reminded of Robert Herrick’s poem, Cherry Ripe, which of course led me to start singing the song. 🎜🎝

Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry,
Full and fair ones; come and buy.
If so be you ask me where
They do grow, I answer: There,
Where my Julia’s lips do smile;
There’s the land, or cherry-isle,
Whose plantations fully show
All the year where cherries grow.

Robert Herrick was born in 1591 in London and became a poet and an Anglican priest. He wrote more than 2,500 poems, and although he never married, much of his earlier work is centred on love and women. His poetry often refers to the fleeting nature of life and the necessity to make the most of it.

One of his oft-quoted poems, ‘To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time,’ has the opening lines:

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today,
Tomorrow will be dying.

 

A vocation or avocation?

 

A vocation or avocation?

You may well have had a vocation, something you felt drawn to do to earn your daily crust. You may not have had a vocation, but just did whatever you had to do to put food on the table and a roof over your head.

It is more likely that most people have an avocation. The word comes from 16^th century Latin avocation meaning ‘calling away.’ Basically, it’s a smart word for a hobby!

An avocation is something you do entirely for pleasure and is nothing to do with making money, though it might do so incidentally. It may be something creative, like embroidery or whittling. It could be an outdoor pursuit, like mountaineering or birdwatching. It may be something which exercises your mind, like poker or building a model railway. It might even be something that combines several avocations, like writing a book containing photographs you have taken of wonderful cakes you have designed and baked.

Did you have a vocation? How many avocations have you?

Have you enough time for all the hobbies you enjoy?

 

A bird in the . . .

 . . . conservatory is worth seeing.

 On Sunday evening a confused, new member of the garden avian community flew indoors. There are many plants on the windowsills and floor, enough to fool an inexperienced fledgling into thinking it’s found a rare jungle.

Herschel alerted Barry to the incomer, and he and Jellicoe were summarily hustled into the kitchen. As Barry searched for the elusive chick, wondering if his eyes had been playing tricks on him, Herschel suddenly signalled. Sure enough, a small bird was fluttering in one of the plant trays. It looked as if it was having a dip, though I suspect it was too tense to consider relaxing in a tepid bath, and was literally in a flap!

We made sure the external door was open and the internal door locked and left the little bird to its own devices, hoping it would find its way out without too much stress. Meanwhile, the cats were forbidden the freedom of the conservatory.

We discovered another, larger bird on the conservatory roof. A woodpigeon had met its end there. It looks just as if it is resting. In a sense, I suppose it is. It was an odd place for it to be, far from the gutter or the apex, with no place to perch.

 We rarely find dead birds and it’s sad to see something that was once so vibrant now still and lifeless.

 

 

Steps

 

Steps

There is a steep step (40 cm) down to the patio from both our sitting room and conservatory. Many years ago, Barry built a wooden step to replace the milk crate we were using. Years later, he hammered further planks onto the wooden step, with the grooves of the wood running at a 90˚ angle to the original, as it was proving rather slippery in its old age.

Now it has reached the point of needing to be replaced completely, and we resolved to push the boat out and buy one ready-made. There’s so much more available now, and we’ve gone beyond the Heath Robinson stage of life in most things. (The last thing we built was a garden gate and it’s a solid thing of great character, not quite the height of a house door, but not far off.)

So, we have been measuring and consulting and think we’ve finally found the right thing. In fact, we’ve decided to buy two, as we’re still using a milk crate for the conservatory. Crates are remarkably strong, but with a purpose-built step, we will be more inclined to go in and out of that room more readily. Additionally, it will have a handrail, which is a Good Idea.

The other thing that is becoming increasingly rickety is the wooden bridge over the pond. It’s not a huge pond, but it is too wide to step across, and we need to be able to go over to weed and prune. We used to cross on a plank, but that became hazardous and the bridge we replaced it with has been there for a Very Long Time.

The pond is gradually clearing and looking fresher and cleaner. There is a large community of newts, which has taken the upheaval of the environment quite calmly, as far as one can tell.

 The heat last week brought proceedings to a halt. Will this now be superseded by rain to provide further disruption?