tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60203979952135552492024-03-13T19:05:06.599+00:00Northern ScrivenerA Northern Ireland MiscellanyNorthern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.comBlogger788125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020397995213555249.post-39471345295936224672019-09-25T20:07:00.000+01:002019-09-25T20:07:17.627+01:00Pork and Football<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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George V was on the throne and the Great War was still raging when this photograph was taken. Was the Commercial League a precursor of Londonderry's current amateur league? Perhaps so.<br />
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For most of the latter half of the nineteenth century and the first half of the twentieth century Londonderry's pork trade was the main provider of male jobs in the City, certainly on a consistent basis. The majority of the pork stores were concentrated along Foyle Street. At the tine this photograph was taken the largest of these were Buchanan Bros, Mark Roulston & McLaughlin and Biggers Ltd. The individual second from the left on the back row, (W Carruthers), hailed from Culmore and was an employee of Biggers Ltd.</div>
<br />Northern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020397995213555249.post-9660193973247956202019-08-30T21:58:00.001+01:002019-12-13T16:10:39.228+00:00A Victorian Childhood.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When I look at this photograph I always think that there is a huge age difference between the subjects. Is it an old father or a young grandfather with their son or grandson? Tis neither. The occasion of the photograph was the tenth birthday of the young schoolboy and his fellow subject is his elder brother (by sixteen years), William. I suspect that today's twenty six year olds would be slightly concerned if they looked as aged! It is almost one hundred and thirty years since this photograph was taken in the garden of, "Church View," Ballyshannon. The certainty of nineteenth century values has withered away. Brexit was not an issue for my ten year old grandfather.<br />
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<br />Northern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020397995213555249.post-12722911069689648492018-12-30T18:31:00.001+00:002018-12-30T18:36:24.726+00:00Victory in Defeat<div dir="auto" style="text-align: justify;">
Yesterday for the first time ever I was lapped in a track race. This was I suppose an inevitable consequence of age and the shortness of the indoor athletics track. I am searching for some comfort in the fact that it was a 1500m race rather than an 800m and that my nemesis was forty years my junior but it still rankles no matter the logic. <br />
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Running in a combined seniors and masters race is always going to be a matter of mindless hope over physical reality. The winning time was 4.01. My time a more pedestrian 4.49 but if you factor in the degenerative quotients of age I beat the young upstart by eleven seconds. Now who is smug? But I would still swap the seasoned bones for the vitality of youth. I will not go gently into that good night!</div>
Northern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020397995213555249.post-73298744085183527092018-10-13T20:11:00.001+01:002018-10-13T21:23:07.620+01:00Garvagh's Weed Patch<br />
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On 7th April 2009 the Coleraine Times reported the official opening of the Community Courtyard Garden in Garvagh. As one would expect at such events the funders were much lauded. They were named as Ulster Wildlife Fund and The Bjg Lottery. The work appears to have been carried out by Breathing Spaces and the Conservation Volunters NI. I haven't managed to find a photograph of how the garden looked nine years ago but today it might be more accurate to describe it as a weed patch rather than a garden. One is tempted to question the expenditure. What was the point? Does the world of grants provide sustainable facilities? The very fact that grants are needed might give an answer.</div>
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Northern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020397995213555249.post-62370394212249824132018-10-06T23:03:00.001+01:002018-10-06T23:04:44.551+01:00Autumnal Colour<br />
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At this time of year the fruit and veg patch is definitely beginning to look a bit sorry for itself. The broad beans, runner beans, peas and courgettes have finished their cropping and have been removed. The tops of the main crop potatoes are dieing back and the Autumn raspberries have been picked and their foliage is turning yellow and beginning to fall. Amidst the greens and yellows the vibrant autumnal purple red hues of the blueberry bushes push themselves to the forefront of ones cognisance. Outdoor gardening is drawing to a close.</div>
Northern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020397995213555249.post-47536028533601914642018-09-19T14:50:00.001+01:002018-09-19T19:55:30.985+01:00Runner Bean Ali.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I wasn't intending to take out the runner beans for a few weeks yet but storm Ali brought my plans forward. As in previous years I grew this year's vines up a nine foot high wigwam constructed of ash poles. Rather shortsightedly I had placed this growing frame within four feet of the greenhouse. When I was tramping around the garden at eight o'clock this morning it was very evident that the leafy vines were presenting ,"Ali," with a punchbag that was not going to be able to resist the storm's gusty punches for very long. Rather than have several panes of glass needing replaced I decided to crop the beans and dismantle their scaffold. Most of the pods were quite young and tender but I did discover several very mature pods which had escaped my earlier croping. These have yielded me with enough seed beans for next year's planting. I must remember to locate the wigwam further from the greenhouse!</div>
Northern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020397995213555249.post-50681693790626146402018-06-27T00:10:00.001+01:002018-06-27T00:15:11.689+01:00Before the Fridge<div dir="auto">
Before fridges established themselves as an essential feature of the kitchen keeping food fresh, particularly in the summer months, was a definite problem. In the early 1960's and yes I do remember those years, very few families had the luxury of a fridge. <br />
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My maternal grandparents had a food safe in a shaded area of their garden. It was constructed of wood and fine wire mesh. The mesh was of a sufficiently small gauge that flies and wasps were excluded. The woodwork was painted a muted green colour. This was where the meat, milk and butter was kept. <br />
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Clearly it wasn't as efficient as a modern fridge but it was cooler than their kitchen. My paternal grandparents didn't have a food safe but they did have the advantage of a cellar. That was probably a better and more proficient home for their comestibles. There is no doubt that peoples' standard of living has improved dramatically. Unfortunately most people take this for granted or worse as their entitlement.</div>
Northern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020397995213555249.post-19432756388331541612018-06-15T11:49:00.001+01:002018-06-15T11:52:59.529+01:00A Royal Flavour<br />
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Now that the humble elderflower has been used to flavour the wedding cake for Prince Harry and Meghan Markle I wonder whether royal watchers will be jumping into hedgerows and denuding the local elder trees of their lacecap flourescences? So far the examples in my own garden have avoided such predations but I will put my hands up and admit that I will be getting the trusty secateurs out shortly so that I can produce this year's supply of elderflower cordial. I can't say that I am a terrific fan of cordials and juices but it is surprising what you can add to ones glass to give the contents a gentle kick.<br />
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The manufacture of elderflower cordial is thankfully a fairly easy process. Let's face it if it wasn't I wouldn't be doing it. One dissolves five pounds of granulated sugar in about two and a half pints of water which is then brought to the boil before taking your saucepan off the heat. Thereafter it is a matter of adding about twenty washed flower heads along with 3 ounces of citric acid and two unwaxed and paired lemons which have been sliced into G & T roundels. After allowing twenty four hours for infusion one is ready to strain the liquid into sterilised bottles. Your cordial is then ready to use.</div>
Northern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020397995213555249.post-85053298326352506212018-05-28T09:50:00.001+01:002018-05-28T09:51:40.138+01:00Hidden Eggs<br />
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There has been a certain paucity of eggs from the hen coop over the past week. I had been putting this down to the age of my hens. They are now almost three years old. <br /></div>
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However egg numbers had not actually decreased. One of my avian friends had decided to lay her eggs in the open air yards distant from the coop. I came upon her surreptitious clutch quite by chance deep in a herbaceous border. I removed five of the six eggs in the hope that the errant hen would continue to lay her eggs in what is no longer her secret lair. This she has done for the last two days. It would seem that she has not appreciated that she has been rumbled. Hens aren't good at counting.</div>
Northern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020397995213555249.post-34499461799787000492018-04-18T22:33:00.001+01:002018-04-18T22:40:05.770+01:00A School, A Hymm, A Soldier.<div dir="auto">
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On the 10th day of October 1874 one John James Hamilton Humphreys of Lincolns Inn, London leased a rood of his land on the lee of a green hill in the townland of Barnes, Parish of Upper Badoney and Barony of Upper Strabane to the Right Reverend Francis Kelly the then Roman Catholic Bishop of Londonderry and the Reverend Patrick Magee Parish Priest of the Parish of Upper Badoney. The term of the lease was nine hundred and ninety nine years and the assurance declares that the demise was upon trust that a school for the instruction of the youth of the district should be established and maintained. The demise goes on to say that if such a school should cease to operate for twelve calendar months then the lessees were required to surrender their leasehold estate and give up possession of the premises to the Lessor his heirs and assigns.</div>
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Who was this Mr Humphreys? Unsurprisingly with an address of Lincoln's Inn he was a barrister. Born in 1817 he was the eldest son of Major John Humphreys of Milltown House, Strabane, (until recently the home of Strabane Grammar School). He graduated from Exeter College, Oxford in 1839 and was called to the Bar on 18th November 1842. His father, Major Humphreys of the Royal Marines fought under Nelson at the Battle of Copenhagen in 1801. The latter's military career was subsequently cut short by injuries received in the West Indies. Following a period as a staff officer in Dublin he became the Agent of the Earl of Wicklow and subsequently accepted a similar position with the Hamiltons of Baronscourt.<br />
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The Major's third child was a girl Cecil Frances who was born in 1818. She is better known by her married name of Alexander having married the Reverend William Alexander in October 1850. Dieing on 12th October 1895 she was buried in Londonderry City Cemetery. By that time her husband was the Bishop of Derry and Raphoe. In 1896 he was elevated to the Archbishopric of Armagh a position he held until 1911.</div>
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Northern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020397995213555249.post-42407741455466867202018-04-06T20:20:00.001+01:002018-04-06T21:26:55.693+01:00Lanowlee - An Indian House<div dir="auto" style="text-align: justify;">
Lanowlee or Lanowlee Hall as it was called for a time was a large Victorian villa situated on Londonderry's Limavady Road. The 1911 census discloses that it was a twelve room property with nine outhouses including a coach house. For many years it was a ruinous shell. It has now been demolished. I don't know quite when this occurred but gone it has. Sad in some ways. Another foot note in local history.<br />
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The name of the property came from an area in India and was bestowed upon the dwelling by the person I believe to have been its first owner, Brigade-Surgeon Hamilton Mitchell. This gentleman was born on 22nd January 1832 and obtained his LRCS from Edinburgh in 1853. The following year he entered the Army Medical Department as an assistant surgeon. Within two months he was ordered to the Crimea where he served from 8th November 1854 until 18th February 1855 and was present at the fall of Sebastapol. He was awarded the Crimea Medal with clasp and the Turkish Medal. <br />
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In May 1855 he was gazetted Assistant Surgeon to the 96th Regiment of Foot in which he served for over twenty one years. On 9th March 1867 he was promoted to the rank of Staff Surgeon. This was followed by promotion to Surgeon Major on 21st July 1874. From 1865 until 1875 his regiment was stationed in India. <br />
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In 1876 he moved to the Staff at Colchester Barracks. His career subsequently took him to Malta in 1877 but in July 1878 he was forced to return to England on sick leave. On 6th March 1880 continued heart problems resulted in him retiring from the Service on half pay with the rank of Brigade- Surgeon. He and his wife then returned to his native Co Londonderry where he took up residence at Lanowlee. His wife, Hannah, daughter of his regiment's Colonel died on 22nd February 1894. On the 26th August of the same year Hamilton Mitchell passed away.<br />
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Sources: The London Gazette, "Medical Officers of the Malta Garrison," and Medical News 22nd September 1894.</div>
Northern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020397995213555249.post-77566668571389210102018-01-07T18:12:00.001+00:002018-01-07T18:16:13.953+00:00Egging It<br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;">It is now twenty seven months since I took delivery of eight hybrid point of lay hens. They cost me six pounds a bird. Not a large investment in livestock. A month later they went into egg production. Since then I have had a continuous supply of eggs albeit that this current winter has seen a very definite decline in numbers. </span></div>
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Their first moult didn't seem to impact on their productivity but this year the decline has been pretty much as per the manuals. Perhaps it's the colder and wetter weather conditions.</div>
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The fact that I have lost twenty five percent of my flock has of course also had an impact on the number of eggs available for my breakfast table. When I say lost I don't mean that I have mislaid them a la Lady Bracknell. No unfortunately I have to report that two of the trusty layers have entered avian nirvana. One of the dearly departed just keeled over for no apparent reason. The other however may have suffered the administrations of a reddish brown mammal or perhaps a peregrine falcon. In any event the last I saw of her was a clump of downy feathers.</div>
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Yesterday I collected three eggs from the coop including number four thousand eight hundred so the average per hen has now surpassed six hundred. Excluding the capital cost of the coop I calculate that the eggs have cost just under seven pence each to produce.</div>
Northern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020397995213555249.post-62530493329991610912017-11-26T19:42:00.001+00:002017-12-24T09:10:02.365+00:00Londonderry's Electric Lighting Station.<br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;">It becomes a mite disconcerting when one's recollections take on an historical twist. Only those of us who were born prior to the Munich air disaster are likely to have much recollection of the Corporation's Power Station on the Strand Road, certainly as a functioning entity. It ran on solid fuel, coke, if my memory serves. I seem to remember that a reserve store of coke was kept at the Brandywell in the area which was used as a recycling centre until recently.</span><br />
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I have read that Londonderry Corporation's electricity station was operating from 1892 but the first tranche of ground at Strand Road was acquired from the Irish Society by way of an assurance dated 20th July 1893 and indeed these lands were subject to two leases which had been created by the Irish Society. The first of these was in favour of a Henry Barre Beresford and was for sixty six years from 29th September 1836. The second lease was in favour of one William Charles Babington and was for a term of ninety nine years expiring in 1916. I suspect that the Corporation had acquired the benefit of these leases by the date of the July 1893 Fee Farm Grant. This view would be sported by the fact that the Corporation Covenanted with the Irish Society to, " erect and complete within one year to the satisfaction of the Irish Society an Electric Light Station to serve the present and prospective requirements for lighting the City by electricity."<br />
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On 24th February 1904 the Corporation acquired further lands from the Irish Society so as to extend the Electric Lighting Station. Subsequent to this further smaller portions of land were conveyed to the Corporation by the Irish Society on 19th December 1916 and 20th September 1933. <br />
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The map endorsed on the Fee Farm Grant of 1893 shows the existence of Fox's Lane running from Strand Road to the Quay. This thoroughfare seems to have been incorporated into the site of the Electricity Station.</div>
Northern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020397995213555249.post-73143260720932564212017-11-10T21:33:00.001+00:002017-11-10T21:34:40.995+00:00Tyrconnell Whiskey Relaunch.<div dir="auto">
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Twelve years ago I was given a present of a bottle of whiskey. I accept any bottle of the amber nectar with a degree of alacrity. This was not however just any whiskey. The wooden presentation case was a bit of a giveaway as was the signed certificate. I had been given a numbered bottle of the relaunched Tyrconnell brand. It had been distilled by John Teeling's Cooley Distillery. </div>
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Tyrconnell Whiskey was of course originally distilled by Watt's Distillery in Londonderry and was named after the then owner's horse which won a race called the National Produce Stakes in 1876 at odds of one hundred to one. I suppose that many whiskey conniseurs and collectors would have retained a bottle such as this in their collection. I have to admit that I didn't. I consumed it over Christmas 2005 and very nice it was too.</div>
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<br />Northern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020397995213555249.post-53545615745297473612017-10-22T20:42:00.002+01:002017-10-24T08:59:16.354+01:00Capt. Edward George Harvey 1882 - 1915<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Edward George Harvey born on the 7th September 1882 was the eldest son of John George Morewood Harvey of Greglorne, Londonderry and his wife Norma Elizabeth (nee Rogan). He received his education at Foyle College. In his turn J. G. M. Harvey was the youngest son of Capt. Harvey RN of the Warren, Culdaff, Londondery.</div>
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Although he was from a scion of the Harveys of Culdaff Edward enlisted as a private in the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders. He served in the Transvaal, (10/11/1900 - 8/1/1902), where he was awarded the Queens Medal with two clasps. Subsequently he served as a Sargent in India and it was during his sojourn in India that he was commissioned into the Wiltshire Regiment, (May 1905). In 1913 he was seconded to the Royal Flying Corps, (Military Wing), and within a year he was promoted to the rank of Flight Commander. Subsequent to the outbreak of war he rejoined his regiment, the Duke of Edinburgh's Wiltshire regiment, as a Captain and he joined its 1st Batallion at the Front in February 1915. On 16th June in that year he was leading his Company on an attack on the German trenches near Hooge when he was fatally wounded. His service record confirms his height as being 5 feet 8.75 inches and that he could speak French. <br />
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Edward's name appears on the Menin Gate in Belgium and on the the war memorial at the Diamond in Londonderry. He is also honoured by a plaque on the north aisle of St. Columb's Cathedral, Londonderry and his name appears on the war memorial at his alma mater.<br />
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The photograph at the head of this post was identified as being of Edward by a member of the Harvey family but it is clearly of a different individual than the person who is identified as Edward in the "Our Heroes," website of South Dublin Libraries.</div>
<br />Northern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020397995213555249.post-86012995649434812772017-09-29T09:16:00.001+01:002017-09-29T09:21:00.430+01:00Beetroot Store<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Vegetables that can be stored add considerable value to the garden and the ideal of self sufficiency. Beetroot is one of those vegetables that should be lauded much more than it is. As a fresh vegetable it is available in NI climes from July until early October. Thereafter a mini clamp protects the excess crop from the extremes of winter weather and extends the climatic availability of the crop as of course does pickling. The yellow and candy striped varieties do I think look particularly good in their pickling jars. Perhaps another, "boiling," is required.</div>
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Northern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020397995213555249.post-59556753275584194532017-08-28T20:20:00.001+01:002017-08-28T21:20:19.194+01:00A Paucity of Cucamelons<br />
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I have to concede that my experimental growing of cucamelons has not been a wholehearted success. They proved to be quite easy to germinate and after transplanting the seedlings into three inch pots and growing them on for about three weeks I was able to plant the small vines into twelve inch rings which I had sunk in the greenhouse border. I planted a total of twelve vines - two per pot and erected a bamboo wigwam in each pot for the vines to climb up.</div>
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All the literature which I had read told me that if you can grow cucumbers then you can grow cucamelons. Both thrive in the same conditions and require the same husbandry. Taking this advice to heart I planted the cucamelon vines next to my six cucumber plants. The latter have done well. To date I have pulled an average of seven cucumbers from each of my plants and by the end of the season I would expect to have had in excess of fifty cucumbers. </div>
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The cucamelon vines have been very vigorous in their growth and there have been hundreds of little flowers with embryonic fruit behind them. The problem is that the vast majority of these have failed to swell and have fallen off the vines. I am coming to the conclusion that the flowers have not been fertilised. My cucumber plants are self fertile. I have noticed that there are just not as many bees and other pollinating insects in the garden this year. </div>
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So far I have pulled the grand total of seven cucamelons so definitely not a productive use of greenhouse space. I will have to decide if it is worth continuing the experiment next year.</div>
Northern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020397995213555249.post-81073709163422776542017-08-06T23:37:00.001+01:002017-08-06T23:47:06.272+01:00The Apprentice Boys Memorial Hall, Londonderry Act (Northern Ireland), 1935<br />
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This Local Act was enacted on 16th July 1936 to facilitate the extension of the Apprentce Boys Memorial Hall in Society Street. John Ferguson, John Gilbert Magee, Joseph Thompson , Robert McElmunn Wilton, Marshall McKay, James McElmunn Wilton and James Smyth (representing the Apprentice Boys) together with Matthew Kerr, James Dunlop, Maxwell Scott Moore, Frederick James Simmons, Edward McIntyre and James Hill Lapsly (representing the Local Orange Brethren) were incorporated by the name of "The Trustees of the Apprentice Boys Memorial Hall Londonderry (Incorporated)" with perpetual succession and a Common Seal. </div>
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This corporate body was granted the power to purchase, take, hold and dispose of lands and other property for the purposes of the Act and it was granted the power to borrow a sum or sums of money which did not exceed at any one time the sum of £15,000 for the purpose of rebuilding or extending the existing Hall or of purchasing further premises for the purpose of extension or of acquiring further estates or interests in the premises of the Trustees.</div>
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The Act states that as soon as may be after the passing of the Act that the then existing Apprentice Boys Hall together with four adjoining premises which had been purchased by the Apprentice Boys and the Local Orange Brethren between 1920 and 1926 should be transferred to the Trustees along with all money's which had been raised for the purpose of rebuilding or extending the Hall.</div>
Northern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020397995213555249.post-11788346902176934802017-07-15T22:58:00.001+01:002017-07-15T23:00:27.943+01:00Coloured Beets<br />
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T'is that time of year when the vegetable garden racks up the quantity and variety of its produce. I should probably grow more beetroot than I actually do. I like their sweetness when roasted and a shredded beetroot adds colour to a summer salad. </div>
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Thinking back to my childhood I have memories of my mum pickling beetroot for winter usuage. She would also preserve boiled beets by cutting them into cubes and placing them in jelly along with several cloves to add flavour. I have to concede that I didn't like jellied beetroot. It must be nearly fifty years since I dissected cubes of purple beetroot from their clammy gelatin coating. The memory still makes me feel slightly queasy.</div>
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The archetypal beetroot is purple in colour and global in shape but there are cultivars which are white, orange, pink, yellow or striped and many beets are cylindrical in shape. I sowed a packet of mixed coloured beet seed for my first sowing of beetroot this year. Today provided me with my first meal with beetroot as the principal vegetable.</div>
Northern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020397995213555249.post-87420281254796687842017-07-01T00:36:00.001+01:002017-07-01T09:29:00.329+01:00Monumental Death<div dir="auto">
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My maternal grandfather was one of four children. His eldest brother died at the age of fourteen years in 1909. His sister died in 1944 when aged thirty eight. It was however the death of his brother that resonated down the generations. I suspect that it was his young age that impacted on the family so much particularly upon his father who was already sixty five years of age when his son passed away. The bereft father erected an imposing monumental stone at the head of the grave near the entrance to their family church. As well as detailing the date of the youth's death the enscription includes a biblical passage,"He has left us only left us for a brighter world above. And they shall see his face ; And his name shall be in their foreheads."</div>
<br />Growing older, appreciating that you are only a crumbly brick in the family wall. It is disconcerting, worrying and inevitably irrelevant.<br />
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Northern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020397995213555249.post-61627361837306772922017-06-25T10:35:00.002+01:002017-06-25T10:37:08.476+01:00Cucamelons<p><br></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnpTA872HCLg_YDxss9JjianpmCsHZv7LTa7QEtOvhWKVjde9bSS1eapSf-RP0GI_zHefKCtjlyT89lbWW06rZjsHDSZZT28oAVRfqYNSwDG5E9kgUs4soCtKxWdZTgnRJcXFlqk_0t-s/s9999/IMG_3349.jpg" width="300" style="max-width: 100%;"></div><p><br></p><p><br>For the past few years I have grown a small fruiting aubergine in the greenhouse in addition to the usual tomatoes, peppers and cucumbers. If I am honest I don't really know whether I like the taste of the eggplant's fruit so this year I decided to replace the aubergine with an alternative indoor crop. </p><p>The plant that I selected was the cucamelon which is also known as the Mexican sour gherkin. Germination was practically one hundred percent successful and occurred within ten days of sowing. This left me with more plants than I probably needed. Not wanting to consign any of the young vines to the compost heap I planted two per ring, so sixteen plants. I expect that I have over planted by fifty percent but if so my error is not obvious as yet. </p><p>The mature fruit are described as being grape size. So far there are plenty of small yellow flowers but the fruit have not yet begun to swell. The books tell me that the fruits taste like cucumber with a tinge of sourness. Not a very appetising description! One feature of the cucamelon which does appeal to me is that it doesn't have to be grown as an annual. The roots can be lifted in the autumn in the same way as dahlias and over wintered before replanting them in spring.<br></p><h3></h3>Northern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020397995213555249.post-73965703895858356142017-06-11T22:54:00.001+01:002017-06-11T22:54:51.959+01:00Pea Green<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbDT22INS78JgEqPIgpb3r0eezb7h11W9f2iISGKaBR12v9KFkivuPr8WCHgfYmnNmL1ndsLpJA5bkQsCvtVnPmcqUsGAAD8aciB7T7XOgts8W2eYXt0wfNBRp3tvzcaCx5rST-TfqKxA/s9999/IMG_3342.jpg" width="500" style="max-width: 100%;"></div><p dir="ltr"><br><br>I sowed my second batch of peas of the year yesterday.. Unlike the first batch I sowed them directly in the position that they will crop in, - hopefully at the beginning or middle of September. The first sowing of pea seeds took place in the greenhouse in March. They were sown in modular root trainers. I suppose that I ended up with about one hundred plants. These were planted out on either side of a stretch of netting wire in May. <br><br>In between today's heavy showers I was able to pull the first pods of the year. Their contents have now been consumed. Fresh peas from the garden are so much sweeter than their supermarket cousins which almost invariably have started on the downward slope to starchiness.</p>Northern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020397995213555249.post-26693267995601076082017-05-31T22:44:00.000+01:002017-05-31T22:47:29.317+01:00Grave Visitations<br />
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<br /><br />Over the past month I have accompanied my father to two church graveyards. On the first occasion he wanted to visit the grave of paternal great grandparents who had died in the middle of the nineteenth century. The headstone is made of Welsh slate and originally rested on four squat stone legs. The two at the front of the grave have been removed or disintegrated with the result that the stone now lies at a slight angle. The term for this style of headstone is I think, "table." <br /><br />Neither great grandparent lived to a great age passing away when aged thirty seven years and forty two years respectively. Their daughter and only child Anne, (my father's grandmother) and who was born in 1842 was made a ward of court and was subsequently brought up by a distant relative who resided in the vicinity of Ballyshannon, Co Donegal. Family history would have it that her guardian somehow managed to get her funds mixed up with his funds but that any unpleasantness was resolved by a house being built for her and her husband.<br /><br />Our second cemetery outing was to St Columb's Parish Church, Moville, (Moville Lower).This time my father wished to visit the grave of a youth by the name of Jack Bennett who had died on 1st August 1941 aged fifteen as the result of a swimming accident. His father William Bennett was the local chemist. My father had attended the funeral almost seventy six years ago. He and Jack were both pupils at Foyle, Jack a boarder and my father, two years his junior, a day boy.<br /><br /></div>
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<br />Northern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020397995213555249.post-21136708840720204362017-04-28T23:52:00.001+01:002017-04-28T23:52:07.956+01:00The Edible Thistle<p><br></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYxNlRbh_eCyCtEKfzoFxmkoNBkixKGZNHEdTXucq5Gdyq4tUrzTB0XyNdVvFMbU7V3GBbIHri_m1P2GnGQXoxE82DyPpofAr9k8FK-RA7SSRJoK8zTUuLyEOWJ-YyyDIAELwNEVeWFBo/?imgmax=9999" width="400" style="max-width: 100%;"></div><p dir="ltr">It is over fifty years since I first saw globe artichokes being cultivated. They appeared to be very exotic to a young school boy, tall and strange. It was in the kitchen garden of Aberfoyle, (formerly know as Richmond), that I espied this member of the thistle family. It would be four or five years after that when I had my first opportunity to taste this vegetable which is just at home in the herbaceous border as the vegetable patch. </p><p dir="ltr">Two years ago I determined to grow on my own specimens. Although five of the seeds germinated and the resultant plants were planted out in the raised border surrounding the yard four of them succumbed to the local slug and snail population. The sole survivor should provide me with at least three or four flower heads for cropping this year. Not a big cropper.</p>Northern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020397995213555249.post-63021660985208061582017-04-19T23:11:00.001+01:002017-04-20T21:42:07.567+01:00Tales from the Discorectangle<br />
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Training did not stop for Easter. In so far as it it is enjoyable to push your body towards the extremes of its ability I enjoyed Tuesday's session. The usual ten minute warm up run was followed by dynamic stretching and running up eighteen flights of steps. That completed the main course of the session ensued, 5 X 300m with three minutes recovery between and thereafter 6 X 120m with a walk back recovery. <br />
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The 300m efforts were to be run at 800m pace or better. For me that is now a rather depressing 51 seconds. Thirty years ago that would have been 44 seconds. Tempus Fugit but not me! It's strange how decades of training enables one's body clock to select the right pace. My first effort resulted in a 51.3 timing. Thereafter the times became progressively quicker ending up with a 47 second result. The 120m efforts were really strides helping to get rid of the lactic acid that had built up as a consequence of the 300m runs.<br />
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Although he didn't succumb to the joys of the 300m efforts we were joined at the track by Malcolm East one the UK's best ever marathon runners. A near contemporary of my self he has a 1981 pb for the distance of 2 hrs 11mins 36 secs. That is serious running.</div>
Northern Scrivenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03852483880332431011noreply@blogger.com0