Heading for the hills
curling and whirling in flight
keen to be away
The day we arrived in Barcelona we were shattered, but determined to hit the streets after a bit of a snooze. Wanting to get out of the Ramblas as soon as possible, seeing a sign for the cathedral seemed a good idea. The Catedral de la Santa Creu i Santa Eulàlia as it’s called in Catalan, was on the must see list.
We soon became distracted by the sights and sounds of the city, but knew we must be heading in the right direction, and once cooled by an ice cream we soon found it.
The Cathedral, which is the seat of the bishop of Barcelona, is known for its rather unusual cloisters and I have to confess that was what particularly drew me. There’s an odd looking fountain, but in the background . . .
Despite the crowds, the cloister was an extraordinary peaceful place, and it warranted more time than our tiredness would allow. Maybe next time.
Walking through a field of large black and white Friesian cows can be a little anxiety provoking, if something spooks them and they stampede, it can be very risky, so much as I like them, I tend to keep my distance.
Never mind, my two favourite breeds of cattle are the Belted Galloway and these Highlands, both small breeds and even with horns there’s nothing scary about them. Highlands have been around since the 6th century, hardy little beasties that can tolerate very cold climates, and root around under snow to find food, on sparsely vegetated uplands.
They seem to thrive on Dartmoor, gathering in companionable groups, always with a benign look on their faces.
Paula has give us five words to choose from as the theme for her Thursday Special, and i rather liked companionable. You can pop over and choose one for yourself if you’d like to join in, you’ll find warm welcome.
I’m glad the weekly photo challenge is back this week, does anyone know what happened last week? This weeks theme, Quest, seemed tricky at first but then it fell into place when I remembered meeting this knight.
And then a song sprung to mind from my infant school days – yes I can still just about recall those dim and distant times.
When a knight won his spurs, in the stories of old,
He was gentle and brave, he was gallant and bold
With a shield on his arm and a lance in his hand,
For God and for valour he rode through the land.
No charger have I, and no sword by my side,
Yet still to adventure and battle I ride,
Though back into storyland giants have fled,
And the knights are no more and the dragons are dead.
Let faith be my shield and let joy be my steed
‘Gainst the dragons of anger, the ogres of greed;
And let me set free with the sword of my youth,
From the castle of darkness, the power of the truth.
By Jan Struther circa 1931
Anyone else sing that song way back when?
Paula at Lost in Translation has a really difficult challenge this week – for me anyway! She says that the way deconstruction applies to art is
‘Deconstruction is a way of understanding how something was created, usually things like art, books, poems and other writing. It means breaking something down into smaller parts. Deconstruction looks at the smaller parts that were used to create an object. The smaller parts are usually ideas.’
Who thinks this ticks the box?
It’s Traces of the Past at Paula’s black and white Sunday this week, so I thought I’d bring this old weaving loom. I believe it’s from the early 1960’s.
It can be seen at Coldharbour Mill, in Devon.
The Weavers Song
The loom goes click and the loom goes clack
The shuttle flies forward and the shuttle flies back
The weaver’s so bent that he’s like to crack
Such a wearisome trade is the weaver’s
Now that it’s made into cloth at last
The ends of work they all make quite fast
The weaver’s labours for now have passed
Such a wearisome trade is the weavers.
Anon, circa the Industrial Revolution.