This week, share a force of nature from your corner of the world.
Monday 25th May 2015.
The Portuguese Fireplace can be found by the roadside close to Millyford Bridge – 2 kilometres (1¼ miles) from Emery Down, near Lyndhurst, beside the minor road leading towards the Bolderwood Deer Sanctuary.
A plaque explains the presence of the Portuguese Fireplace:
This is the site of a hutted camp occupied by a Portuguese army unit during the First World War. This unit assisted the depleted local labour force in producing timber for the war effort.
Almost adjacent grassland bumps and hollows mark the site of a contemporary Canadian Forestry Corps camp, whilst 0.75 kilometres to the west, across the minor road, by a gate leading into the woods, is a short length of fairly deep cutting bordered by substantial moss-encrusted banks – this was part of the route of a First World War narrow gauge railway used to take timber to a sawmill located close to what is now the Millyford Bridge car park.
In fact, by that car park, on the northern side of the minor road still lies a quite large rectangular concrete block; and on the other side of the road can still be seen building foundations. All are the remains of First and Second World War sawmills.
The First World War had a great effect on the New Forest. Airfield and army camps were set up, the whole Forest was used for manoeuvres, and charcoal was in great demand. Even the heather was used for bedding and for packing ammunition. The greatest use, however, was for timber. Importing timber was difficult, and became more so as the War went on. Coal was the main source of fuel for the navy and for industry, so huge quantities of pit props were needed for the coal mines, and more timber for the trenches in France. The New Forest was a major source for this wood, especially Conifer, but many of the forestry workers were in the army. The Women’s Forestry Corps, which had 2,000 women employed nationally by 1918, was part of the answer, but those working in the New Forest were also assisted by Portuguese Army Unit. Lumber camps with steam saws were set up in the Forest, and one of these, near Emery Down, was manned by the Portuguese. After the war was over, the flint fireplace from their cookhouse was preserved as a memorial to their work.
For more info:
Thursday May 14th 2015
Just a day or two ago I finished writing a story, and have done a first read plus edit. This story was born way back in the 1970’s, it now consists of 80,000 words and 186 pages. I feel rather pleased with myself about this story in particular because it started off as just a few hand written pages in an old school exercise book.
I do not look at myself as writer because before all this came to life I wrote lyrics and songs on the guitar and poetry when alone, or on a train, I used to enjoy train journeys when a teenager. My writing started with lyrics for the odd chord structure which I liked, many of the lyrics I still have, including the old writing book I used. Scribbling’s everywhere, odd phrases, odd lines even complete verses with a chord sequence written with them. After years of absence I could not recall what I originally had in mind. I remember sitting on my bed looking out the window on a rainy stormy night, enjoying the storm, the lightning the thunder and shadows of the night. This particular night I wrote a poem called ‘Within the Darkness of Night’. It could also be a song lyric, but was written as a poem. I have included it in this post. I ask if you read it think of yourself walking lonely streets on a stormy night, with lightening in the distant sky and thunder clapping over head. You are squinting your eyes protecting them from the heavy rain. You are soaked to the skin, shivering and felt completely alone. Each corner you turn shadows jump out at you making you startle, strange sounds and lightening creating its imaginary beings. Your mind goes mad, you are thinking of many scary things. Enjoy!
Within the Darkness of Night!
The cat sleeps quietly, The street lights dim,
Everyone retires to bed, Except for the misfit.
The shadows of the night lurk, The owl hoots are scary,
Everyone shivers within their beds, Except for the misfit.
The wind howls through the trees, Swaying back and forth,
Everyone sleeps through the horrors, Except for the misfit.
River waters trickle quietly on, Sudden splash of jumping fish,
Everyone dreams of these beauties, Except for the misfit.
Swaying trees creak and squeal, Tall dark shadows are staring
Everyone is happy in their sleep, Except for the misfit.
Horrors of the darkness is his beauty, The lurking shadows of fear,
Everyone carries on sleeping, Except for the misfit.
The night speaks to us all, Sounds quiver through the air,
Everyone still sleeps merrily on, Except for the misfit.
Night drifts into day, all the beauty now deserts him,
Everyone awakes to this new day, Except for the misfit.
Tonight when you go for a walk, Listen to the night talking
Then HE can sleep peacefully, HE can only be the Misfit.
Gerry A/C © May 2015
So my point is, the more poems I wrote, the more lyrics I wrote the more imaginative my mind became, it was then the beginnings of my story ‘King of the Wood’ was born. I hand wrote the tale in my exercise book, over the years I added small snippets to include when the time came. That time in 2011, when I discovered ‘Nanowrimo’ so the first half of the story was put into words on my computer. It was with this story I completed my first of four Nanowrimo’s. After writing 4 complete novel length stories I still call myself a scribbler. So from now on I will be known as ‘The Scribbler’.
I still have three to edit, in truth it is actually only two I remember doing one already, one pass that is..’The Parchment’.
Thank you for your time!
Gerry A/C May 14th 2015©
Wednesday 13th May 2015.
450th Post, who would’ve thought it.
Taking the Stairs? [poem]
Pushing the button, I get locked away.
My vision is blinded, cannot see a thing.
Routine, same thing again today,
The sudden jolt, I hear a little ting.
Rising or falling, watching the number,
Seven, eight or nine, many more.
I am just like any other consumer,
Watching and waiting for the door.
Another ding, and the door parts,
I am still alone, on my own.
I stumble as it once again starts.
Something strange it starts to groan.
Numbers stop and red lights flash,
Heart rate rises, what do I do?
Calm down, do nothing brash,
Breathe calmly and wait for the crew.
Not again, second time this week.
Can only sit down and wait.
Once again do I turn a cheek,
Again it looks like I will be late.
Patience is now getting very thin,
They should start supplying chairs.
Uncertainty is getting under my skin.
From now on I’ll take the stairs.
March 23rd 2015
Saturday 9th May 2015
https://cobbie69.wordpress.com/Pop over, have a look and let me know.
Originally posted on Sitting on the Porch 2:
Wednesday 29th April 2015
Confused or What!
I have looked so hard,
Tried to see what is there.
But my mind lets me down.
Up and down, everywhere.
The blacks and grey,
All mingle, blend, blur and fuse.
Other people, they look and say,
Those two trees they do not amuse.
Edges looking frosty and dark,
A cold winters morn.
No birds, not even a lark,
Only snow those hills adorn.
Lonely they stand, clouds above,
Blotches of cloud float high.
Here I see no love.
Sadness now, time to sigh.
Maybe I see no snow,
Just grey and white with some black.
Meaning what? I don’t know,
Like I said, I see nothing, vision I lack.
Simplicity it certainly shows,
Again my view, probably wrong.
The picture showing no rows,
Time for guitar, must play a song.
Gerry A/C© March 2015.
Originally posted on DEBUT WRITERS JOURNAL:
Lyra writes fiction, non-ficton, and poetry, and she especially likes dealing with unique subject matter. This story is a futuristic piece that tugs on the emotions and challenges the practical mind.
To read “Emily” just follow the link.
Saturday 25th April 2015.
This week, share your photographs that have captured motion, and tell us the stories behind the images.
Gerry A/C 2015©
Friday 17th April 2015.
For this week’s photo challenge, get up early and explore the morning light.
Gerry A/C© 2015
Wednesday 15th April 2015.
Sway is perhaps best known for its Sway Tower. It is a Grade II listed building. It is also known as “Peterson’s Folly”
Built by Andrew Thomas Turton Peterson on his private estate, its design was influenced by the follies Peterson had seen during his time in India. It is constructed entirely out of concrete made with Portland cement, with only the windows having iron supports. It remains the tallest non-reinforced concrete structure in the world.
The tower is visible from much of the New Forest, and most of the western Solent. A smaller 50-foot (15 m) folly, built as a ‘prototype’, stands in a group of trees to the north of the taller tower.There are many small concrete features (mainly walls) to be found in Milford, Sway and Hordle.
Sway tower is visible from all over the southern part of the New Forest. It stands 218 feet high, too tall and slender to be mistaken for a church tower. From close to it is elegant, with Gothic detailing to the windows. The tower, and many of the buildings around, were built from concrete, then a new material, in the second half of the 19th century by A.T.T.
Peterson, a retired Indian judge who had great faith in its potential. He was also interested in spiritualism, and he is supposed to have been in touch with Sir Christopher Wren, via a medium, for advice on the design of the tower (which must have been difficult for Wren as he had no knowledge of concrete)
Peterson’s other concrete buildings were constructed before the tower, and are mostly useful-many walls, a house with a tower, and so on. The tower seems to have no purpose: he apparently wanted to put a light on the top, but this was prevented because it would have been a danger to shipping. The view from the top, up 330 steps, is said to be wonderful. He intended that he and his wife should be buried at the base of the tower, under two table-like stones, but his wife insisted on an orthodox burial in the churchyard at Sway. Peterson died in London, and his ashes were buried in the tower. They were exhumed in 1957 and reburied in his wife’s grave.
Work on the tower started in 1879, and finished in 1885. Local unemployed men were used, and well paid. No scaffolding was used the concrete being cast in wooden frames 18 inches high, and a crane inside the building hauled materials up into place.
Sway Tower was built by eccentric Yorkshireman Andrew Peterson in 1879
Story /Novel Update
On a previous post I told everyone that I had finished my novel ‘Birth of the Wizard Prince’ well, instead of editing I decide to dig out my original story ‘King of the Wood’ (subtitled Knight of the Oak)which was born in my head way back in the 1970’s and was eventually started for my 2011 Nanowrimo. I had never finished, it has been on my hard drive since then. I had now read through it editing it where necessary and adding or improving what I could and just this week I have started writing and hopefully finish it shortly. I am hoping I will stick to my story line and not keep veering off in directions.
Saturday 4th April 2015
Gerry A/C 2015