Sunday, 8 March 2009

My Town.


Here are a few pictures of Ilkeston, Derbyshire where we have lived for the last 17 years.
The first two show the market square looking across from the library towards St Mary's Church and the fountain outside the Sir John Warren public house. On Thursdays, which is market day, both of these areas are filled with stalls selling all kinds of things although sadly, the market is now much thinner than it used to be.

This is Bath street taken from the bottom end looking up towards the church. Ilkeston is an ex mining town but community spirit is still very strong.
In October the fair comes and takes up residence along Bath street and into the market place. People do their shopping while the children have a ride.

The picture below is of a walk our family have taken many times. It leads to the canal or 'top cut' as it's know locally. Their are views over Cossall towards Eastwood which is DH Lawrence country. A local farm became Marsh Farm in his book The Rainbow.
The canal as the sun is setting is quite beautiful and atmospheric. There is a great sense of history and sometimes when I close my eyes, I fancy I can hear the clod of a horse pulling the plough through the rich soil in the fields just behind those trees.
Although we have lived here a long time, I still feel a sense of awe when I come across scenes like this one.

14 comments:

  1. Derbyshire is such a nice area.I didnt know it too well until fairly recently when we went down Glossop way.....a Fine part of The World!

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  2. Thanks Tony, we think so.
    We spent a couple of walking weekends in Yorkshire too some years back, I love the wild, untamed ruggishness of the countryside thereabouts.

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  3. Thanks for putting up some pictures, T. I have been curious about the place (I did find it on a map), because it is a part of England where I've never been. Maybe next time you could write more about what it is like to live there. D

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  4. Thanks for checking in Don.

    My next post will be pictures of Nottingham a few miles away, where I grew up. I'll try and give a broader picture of what life in the East-Midlands is like.

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  5. Posts and pictures like these are always appreciated. Out where I live we have to hitch up our get-a-long for a while in order to stumble into concrete. I echo Don's request to hear more about what it's like to live there.

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  6. This island is so small and so full I can't imagine travelling too far without seeing concrete.

    Endless space, what a lovely thought. Now there's another obvious difference between our cultures. Does it follow that the more space you have physically around you, the more head space available to you for the imagination to unfold? Interesting idea to consider coming from a crowded country such as this one. Or maybe because we are so crowded the imagination has no choice but to fly upwards and outwards to escape the drone of civilisation.

    Do you want to swap for a while and see what happens?

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  7. Beautiful Boxie - just beautiful.

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  8. Crowded, dear T? I am now living in a city of more than 12 million people. I know there is an idyllic countryside out there -- the Pampas, Patagonia -- but I'm smack dab in the middle of something akin to being in Covent Gardens. Acually, more like Swiss Gardens.

    You would hate Texas. Everybody with two-tenths of a brain hates Texas.

    We have been very busy around here putting our house in order. I am exhausted and feeling my age. I will send you a link by email of some photos of the place.

    Back to the grind.

    More photos and description from you, please.

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  9. Me John? Oh, the photos. Thanks for that.

    Don, you are the youngest man I ever knew! As for Texas, the only images I dream up are from Cowboy and Indian films I watched as a child with my dad. I couldn't wait for the beautiful Indian squaw to appear with her long black hair. Don't tell me I've been taken in by Hollywood and none of this is true!

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  10. I'm sure you must be Boxie. It's there in the way you write.

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  11. Hate Texas? Why gosh darn, wheres else does a fellar or lass spect to go to bear witness to the gnarly thrust of a stubknuckled Mesquite rising all lonesome from a cracked ground out of which boils a mess of snipping fireants? Texas is wider than your mother-in-law's hips, I tell you, and'll twitch less than your sister's wild reckonings. The pale longing of the snitchgrass fluttering against the open and widely blue mouth of the sky makes a mighty declaration of the power of existential yearnin. It does, yes.

    Stand tall in ye own dominion. This'll be a motto any Texan can grasp with proper figurin. Stand tall and open that closed prune of a heart to allow in the great breath proffered by the flat horizon which allows a fellar the best chance of making the buckshot count on the lass that hankers to make it to Oklahoma.

    I loves Texas and I's got at least three tenths of this here brain percolating on all cylinders. Except on Tuesdays.

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  12. You're all quite bonkers really aren't you.

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  13. I thought the men in white coats were bookies.

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  14. Mmm, little bit concerned John. Have you been at the sherry again?

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