Loch Rannoch I - The Animals

Stayed for a week in a farm cottage half way along Loch Rannoch. The farm animals were doing a very good impersonisation of pets. The ducks swam in circles on their wee pond pretending to be afraid of me while arguing with each other.

The cockerel was very proud.

The Jacob's sheep were a bit Celtic looking, with some woad-like horn painting.

In the fields by the loch, wild geese were finishing their evening meal. Rather than fly and waste energy as I tried to sneak up quietly, they just sidled away. Invariably keeping one eye on me and one eye on where they were going. A mixture of Canada geese and Greylag.

This guy was crossing the road when I almost flattened it with the bike. Colourful, but painfully shy.

This pheasant was yet another camera shy potential dinner. Every time I tried to focus he skittered away another couple of feet further into the dim trees with me clambering, slipping and sliding up the bank. I need a much longer, faster lens.

Beamish - Stepping back.

A weekend a way visiting Durham finished with stopping in at the Beamish Museum. It's a 'living' museum celebrating life and times in the North East (of England) in the 1820s, 1900s and 1940s.

First 'exhibit' was Pockerley Old Hall showing the home of a wealthy farmer in the 1880s. The main eye-catcher was the cold store / pantry with next week's food - in the case of the game birds, ageing nicely.

Down the road was the colliery and the associated engines in various states of patchy rust - looked like old leaves plastered on the metalwork at first glance. Inside the engine shed, restoration produced a bit of gleam and shine.

An old drift mine entrance caught my eye but, as it was still winter season, no trips down the mine were on offer, just a warning sign in the distance.

A pit village complete with school was next, with a gleaming magic lantern centre stage and various banners round the walls. The village was of the 1900s and surprisingly the wee shop sold a not too bad cup of coffee to passersby.

Up the road, careering into the 1940s, was the Home Front farm showing rural North East during the war. Cumberland Sausage in Stottie was our fast food choice from the wartime kitchen. The woman serving was in sartorial sympathy, but the hot soup in the modern cardboard cup was shocking.

Other stars of the farm were horses, pigs, chickens, ducks and geese. The horses were headfirst in their dim stalls, pigs were not playing ball - these two were desperate to be cartured on digital celluloid.

Harmonium man was busking for the 'Friends of Beamish' but perhaps he was secretly supplementing is pension.

The huge open cast mining machine would no doubt be dwarfed today but it was still big enough to scoop up a couple of Sunday afternoon kids.

The market town of the 1900s shortly before the first World War was our last stop as we were beginning to be time travelled out.The shops were interesting but too dim for handheld stuff. A number of items in sale were uncomfortably familiar. A quick visit to the Dentists house produced a one eared teddy bear, a little milk jug with cover and a dusty old camera.

The Saddlers display didn't have have many twee horse brasses but the shiny Pack Saddle (that's what I think it is anyway) was near enough the window so that it wasn't too shoogly.

Finally we called in at the printers and were told to mind our ps and qs, watch out for the lower case letters and to quoin a phrase.  According to 'tinternet, the last phrase wasn't coined by printers at all. Seems like there a bit of debate about it.