Hadrian's Wall. Day 1. Friday April 24th. 2015. We set off.

Newcastle to Newburn. 7.25 miles (11.6 km), 325 ft (100m) ascent

Crossing the High-Level Bridge on the approach to Newcastle Central station

In recognition of our friend Stefan's now-legendary comment whilst on the West Highland Way: Best day so far!



Dermot had driven up from Bramhall the evening before, and Carol and Dave arrived at our house in plenty of time to get up to Oxenholme for the 08.54 train to Carlisle. Carol had come up with a good idea to get all five of us to the station with our luggage, yet still not to have to leave a car parked up at Oxenholme for the whole week. I drove, and took everyone and their rucksacks up to the station, and dropped them at the station entrance at 8.30am. I then drove back home, left the car in its usual place outside the house, jumped on a tatty mountain bike (specially selected for its unattractive qualities so as to make it an unlikely target for theft) and rode up to Oxenholme. Once there, I locked the bike to one of the bike rails, which meant that the bike would be there when we returned, and would allow me to ride quickly down the hill to home to pick up the car.

The 'transport system' was a success, and went according to plan, so although cloudy and threatening to rain, the weather was kind and allowed me to stay dry on the ride up the hill. The train to Carlisle was on time, and the weather improved during the journey up from Oxenholme, so spirits were generally high as a consequence. While we waited for our connection to Newcastle, some of us partook of coffee on the "lawn" on Carlisle Station. I always enjoy the train journey across to Newcastle. It seems to pass slowly to begin with, as the train climbs to reach the summit of the Pennines, but once over the top, the rest of the trip seems to pass by in a flash, as the train careers downhill all the way to the Tyne. The scenery is good, and coupled with the sunny skies, it helped to make the journey pass quickly.

At some point, possibly around Hexham, our conversation turned to what we needed to do when we reached Newcastle. The actual, on-the-ground start of Hadrian's Wall is (as the name would suggest) at Wallsend. To reach Wallsend from Newcastle Central involves an approximately 15 minute trip on the Metro. So we had to leave Central Station, find the Metro Station, then catch the next available train to Wallsend. It seemed to me that this announcement, this disclosure, that we had to travel further on only to have to come back on ourselves, was met with some disappointment, not to say displeasure. So I pointed out that this was, strictly speaking, not absolutely necessary. I had made an assumption, at an early planning stage, that Carol, and probably Dermot, would feel a compulsion to follow the whole of the route, from start to finish. Speaking personally, I could think of little reason to slavishly follow the waymarked route. Newcastle, being a major urban centre of some antiquity, means that almost all traces of the original Wall have been erased from view, and the modern streets and buildings make it practically impossible to follow the actual line of the historic Roman Wall. Consequently, Hadrian's Way (as it is called within the city bounds) merely follows a convenient paved pedestrian trail, along the bank of the Tyne to begin with, out of the city. If my fellow Wallers Hadriani were not, in fact, rigidly committed to following the route from start to finish, then we could save ourselves approximately four miles of walking on this, our first day. Never has a decision been made so quickly - not by a committee, anyway! It turns out that nobody was particularly wedded to the idea of following the route in its entirety!

The amazing interior decor of the Centurion Bar

"Of course we don't have to follow every step of the route!"

"Not going all the way to Wallsend (and then having to come back again) will mean that we don't have to be in such a hurry to get out to Newburn."

"And starting from Newcastle Central means that we can have a pint in the Centurion before we set off walking."

Those of you who are familiar with Newcastle Station will be aware of the Centurion Bar. It began life in the 1890's as the station's First Class Lounge. It gradually fell into disuse before closing in the 1960's. After decades of neglect, it was taken over and restored to its former glory in the year 2000. All to our advantage, of course, because we were now enabled to have a relaxing beer before setting out on our Hadrian's Walk.

Lunch stop - before we have even taken a step!

After the beer, the serious business of the walk had to begin. Out of the station, turn right, and down to the river by a series of tunnels and stairways. Arrival on the riverside path signalled the stop for lunch, where a bench situated between the High-Level Bridge and the Queen Elizabeth Bridge allowed for a sit down (it's very tough, this walking business!) But, after that, we had no excuses left, so we had to start walking. It wasn't very demanding, and although there was some interest along the way, the scenery was not very inspiring. In addition, poor prior preparation (which did not prevent poor performance) meant that we totally failed to spot any of the few still-extant Roman remains along the way (such as at Denham Dene). I thus feel a certain necessity to return and track down the things we missed - but that's for another day.

One aspect of the walk out of the city that I did not like is the fact that the path that constitutes Hadrian's Way is a shared Pedestrian Path and Cycle Way for much of its length. While I cannot, in principle, criticise the concept, I am not a fan of such shared paths. From the point of view of a cyclist, pedestrians are slow-moving, and particularly when approached from behind, are unpredictable and obstructive. From the point of view of a pedestrian, cyclists travel too fast, are rude and arrogant, and do not pay sufficient regard to the safety of pedestrians. I was involved in a contretemps with what I would call a fairly representative example of a "cyclist on a shared path", after about 3 km, as the path rises away from the river bank and parallels the A695 for a way. The cyclist approached from behind, I did not hear him coming, and inadvertently stepped in his way. He responded with frustration, and I suggested that he should have made his presence known to me by calling out - a simple courtesy in my opinion. His rather angry response was to inform me that he had sounded his bell, and that should have alerted me to his presence. I don't like the use of bells - they are rather peremptory, and they add to the impression that cyclists are rude and arrogant - so I suggested in no uncertain terms that it would be more polite, and frankly more personal, to announce himself with a simple "Excuse Me". "Speak to me!" I said, although not in so many words.

Memorial to the Montagu View Pit Disaster

The Way continued through very varied landscapes, some of them quite thought-provoking to a landscape historian, though none of it was very inspiring. I would, though, be willing to return, armed with a concise guide to the industrial history of the area. After passing through Denton Dene park, and then an area of residential housing, we travelled for quite a long distance on what could have been a disused railway, or possibly a filled-in canal. Given the obviously historic nature of Hadrian's Wall, it should have come as no surprise that there would be so much of historical interest to be seen along the trail. But throughout the duration of the walk, it was to be a regularly recurring theme (as the consequence of "poor prior preparation") that I would time and again wonder at the significance or purpose of many features of the landscape. Definitely much food for thought, and many reasons to make return trips to find out more.

The old railway? What was its purpose?

When we arrived at the Newburn Bridge, it was clear that having shortened the day had allowed us to make good time (we were also helped by the fact that there was not much in the way of ascent in today's stage). Just beyond the bridge we were tempted by "The Boat House" pub, on the day fortunately not under the 2 metres of water experienced in the Great Flood of 1771. Fiona made a check of the beer on offer, and we were disappointed to hear that there was only Wells' 'Bombardier' to be had. Given that we were only a short distance away from our accommodation for the evening (and that, a Brewery and Tap House to boot!) we made the decision to continue straight to the Keelman's Lodge.

Arrival at the Keelman's Lodge

Although by now cloudier than it had been earlier, the weather was still dry, and warm enough to permit sitting outside (bear in mind that we are not natives of the North East, therefore not as inured to the extremes of the climate as the indigenous populace). So we had a couple of Big Lamp beers, sitting out in the beer garden ('Sunny Daze' and 'Prince Bishops' Ale' come to mind) until a few drops of rain sent us indoors.

Our room at the Keelman's Lodge

Then we booked ourselves in, and went to our rooms. After cups of tea and showers, we met back in the bar for dinner.

At our dinner table - the first Team Shot

The food was OK, but honesty compels me to reveal that Fiona was not impressed with her 'new potatoes'. The beers, however, were excellent, and much against expectation, the 'Keelman Brown' turned out to be an interesting and complex beer with a lot of flavour - not the sweet and bland 'Newkie Broon' substitute it could so easily have been. Definitely ten out of ten for the beers. Principal gripe would be that the bar shut at 11.00pm. That was probably actually a good thing, in that staying up late and drinking is not the best preparation for a fifteen mile walk the next day.

And so to bed - still comprehensively the best day so far!

You can see all the photos from today's stage on my Picasa Gallery.

A Walk Along Hadrian's Wall - Preparations.

Hadrian's Wall - 80 Roman miles of history, weather, and sore legs and shoulders

Purists, Completists, and those who are genetically incapable of not following a waymarked walk to the letter: read no further. This is not an account of a journey along the Hadrian's Wall National Trail. This is an account of a walk along the line of the Roman Wall, by five friends, with wholly separate reasons for wanting to do the walk in the first place, and equally separate reasons for finishing it. It was not taken on as a challenge (although it proved challenging), and it was not taken on as a charity fund raiser. Ultimately it was taken on purely to see if we could do it. But it started out like this.

Sycamore Gap, once just a tree on the Wall, now a Landmark

Dermot is Fiona's brother, and one day mentioned to Fiona that he liked the idea, once he has retired from work, of walking the Pilgrims' way known as St. James' Way, or the Camino de Santiago de Compostela. Fiona had recently watched the Martin Sheen movie, "The Way", and thought that Dermot might like the film, and that it might give him some idea of what walking the route would entail. Dermot is not really an ourdoor person, and does not do a lot of walking. Watching a film will not give any genuine insight into the reality of following a long-distance footpath. To truly appreciate how physically demanding it is to walk for six hours a day, every day, come rain, come shine, for seven days (or even longer in the case of the Camino), it is necessary to go out and do it.

So the ghost of an idea was born. And that idea became a vague plan one Friday evening in the pub (surely the worst kind of a plan?), and that became a more definite plan; and the thinking behind that plan was: that to give Dermot a practical demonstration of what it takes to tackle a multi-day excursion, why didn't we walk along Hadrian's Wall? There are many advantages: it is relatively local; there is good transport available to and from both ends of the walk; comfortable accommodation is available all along the route (once upon a time some of us might have contemplated it as a backpacking trip, but as one gets older, the attractions of a comfortable bed and a hot shower become hard to argue against). And, at an average of twelve miles per day, it is achievable in a week. If we planned it for the following Spring, we had plenty of time to prepare, and time to get fit. The weather would (hopefully) be better, and if we arranged to start after the clocks went forward at the beginning of British Summer Time, the lengthening days would make things less pressured in terms of finishing each day's stage in daylight. Great plan! What could possibly go wrong?

The Wall in the foreground of Crag Lough, with Hotbank in the distance beyond.

Thus was formed the Great Hadrian's Wall Walk, Spring 2015. Clearly, I was going to be involved (husband to Fiona, and one of the instigators of the original vague idea); Fiona and Dermot were already on board, and when asked, Carol and Dave expressed an interest (the mad fools!) So some dates were suggested, calendars were consulted, and an initial target was set for April 2015. We could not be absolutely certain of the dates until accommodation had been confirmed, so I set about the preliminary investigation. 'The National Trail: Hadrian's Wall Path' website was extremely helpful. The 'Plan your Visit' map is the one-stop shop for everything you need to find out about accommodation and facilities along the path, and the distance calculator function built-in to the map is very handy for deciding where to look for your next overnight stay. Unfortunately, it appears that no-one has yet had the foresight to build pubs (serving real ales and offering comfortable overnight accommodation) at exactly twelve mile intervals, and situated within metres of the line of the Wall proper. Consequently, I was forced to look to see what is actually available, and plan accordingly.

The first decision that I made was to walk the path from East to West. No-one else had a particular preference, so I made the choice based on my wish to photograph our trip, and to take advantage of the lighting offered by the Westering sun towards the end of each day; walking Westward meant that (weather permitting) the light would be better in front of us as the day progressed. The best-laid plans of mice and men! As every outdoor person will tell you, you cannot control the weather, and one of the risks involved in walking Westwards is that you will have the prevailing wind (and associated weather) in your face. And this fact came home to bite us from time to time during our walk. However, 20-20 hindsight is easier to acquire than a functioning crystal ball; the decision was made, and eventually we just had to get on with it.

Anyway, the salient point about walking East to West is that the accommodation had to be arranged from Newcastle, heading towards Carlisle. So, using the Hadrian's Wall 'Plan your Visit' interactive map, I set about finding what accommodation was available at the appropriate daily distance of twelve miles. It quickly became apparent that there are not many properties situated either at convenient twelve mile intervals, or exactly on the line of the Wall, so it would become necessary to cast the net a little wider. We were also going to need to be prepared to walk away from the Wall at the end of each day to reach our shelter, and to walk back to the Wall the following morning. Having acknowledged that, back to the distance calculator. Beginning from Segedunum, 11.25 miles brought me to Newburn, and The Keelman's Lodge. (A quick check of their website revealed it to be the Brewery and Tap House for Big Lamp Brewery, the longest-established micro-brewery in the North East - what more could you ask for?)

From Keelman's, 9.65 miles brings you to The Robin Hood Inn at East Wallhouses - it had letting rooms, real ale, but no food on a Sunday evening! Memo to self - check with others about scheduling the walk so that we arrive at The Robin Hood on any day but Sunday. Stage 3 would see us complete 10 miles, bringing us to Humshaugh (pronounced 'Humshoff') with the Crown Inn for food, and a selection of B&Bs. Stage 4, 12.25 miles along the Whin Sill, logically the most interesting section of the walk, heading to The Twice Brewed Inn for the overnight stop. So far, so good. But Stage 5 threw a spanner into the works.

It looked like being another exciting day along the Whin Sill, over the highest point of the Wall (Whinshield Crags, 345m), and past Walltown Crags. But there was no immediately obvious stopping place. Greenhead was only 7 miles from Twice Brewed, and that meant the day would simply be too short. Gilsland, just over a mile farther on, would still be too soon to stop. And at the 12 mile mark, there is no obvious accommodation. This section of the Wall passes through something of a no-man's land with no substantial settlements, just isolated single buildings or small hamlets. Fortunately, the data layers function of the trail map came to the rescue. Turning on the 'Accommodation - B&Bs/Hotels/Pubs' button reveals all the accommodation that is available, and this feature showed a B&B called Quarryside in the hamlet of Banks. This turned out to be at 13.75 miles from Twice Brewed, a little farther than the ideal distance, but still perfectly achievable. However, no pub, so not immediately obvious where we might get an evening meal. Further research required.

Day 6 looked obvious - into Carlisle, and we should be able to get rooms in Travelodge. There should also be plenty of choice in town for food and drinks. The map distance calculator showed 16.5 miles, but I could also see a number of places where we could shorten the walk, and because we would be on our way into Carlisle it would even be possible to catch a bus if necessary. Day 7, last day, would be to the coast, distance 14.5 miles. The major logistical challenge for day 7 would be to get back to Carlisle. I needed to check bus timetables, and ask the group if we wanted to stay a second night in Carlisle, or catch the train back to Oxenholme as soon as we arrived back in Carlisle.

The plan was now taking shape. To solve the Robin Hood Inn Sunday food problem, I consulted my fellow Wallers Hadriani to consider making our start day any day other than Saturday. Were we to start on Saturday, we would find ourselves at the Robin Hood Inn at the end of day 2, Sunday, and would thus face the problem of finding an evening meal. Options were narrowed down: to set out from Newcastle on Sunday, placing us at the Robin Hood on Monday; or set out on Friday, making day 2 arrival at The Robin Hood on Saturday. Dermot preferred the latter; there were no objections from the rest of us, so we determined to start the walk on Friday April 24th. Enquiry e-mails were sent to accommodation addresses, replies were received and bookings made and confirmed. We plumped for Mingary Barn B&B in Humshaugh, and my enquiry to the Quarryside B&B in Banks regarding the evening meal situation elicited the following reply: "We take you to the local pub for an evening meal and the landlord brings you back." Luxury! Finally, by August 2014, we had a confirmed itinerary. Train times and bus times had been checked, all the accommodations were booked, and the deposits were paid. Now all we had to do was get fit!

The getting of fitness went as well as could be expected (and there might be a separate post in here about our training walks). However, in February, with only nine or ten weeks to go, we received some news that could have caused the collapse of the whole enterprise. One morning the phone rang (or more accurately in this electronic age, the phone warbled). Making the call was the owner of the Robin Hood Inn, and they were not bearers of good tidings. Following the departure of the pub's most recent tenant, the pub had been closed to allow it to be refurbished. Good for future visitors to the pub no doubt, but not good for us as prospective overnight guests. Our booking for April had been cancelled, so we would need to make speedy new arrangements for our accommodation on day 2. Ironic, really, that we had spent so much time agonising over the day of our departure so as not to arrive at the Robin Hood on a Sunday, and now the place was not even available to us. Time for a rapid rethink. Straight away I contacted the B&B establishments that are in the vicinity of the Robin Hood, and it became immediately obvious that they were either already booked-up, or unsuitable (too small to take all five of us). I was forced, therefore, to widen my field of enquiry, and I started to examine the nearby small town of Corbridge. To get there from the Robin Hood would entail a walk of an additional five miles, down the B6321, which turned South from the Military Road, about a mile West of the pub. I checked the Corbridge village website, read about the accommodation listed there, and sent some e-mail enquiries. I received a positive response from a B&B called Fellcroft, sent the deposit, and we were sorted. It had been an unfortunate hitch in our arrangements, one that could have derailed all our plans, but thankfully it was one that we were fortunate to have overcome. Back on track, we continued our preparations. But how time flies, and how quickly the departure date would be upon us!

Return to Alderley Edge.

The View From Stormy Point

How Alderley Edge fired me up about photography.

I first read about Alderley Edge, not realising at the time that it is a real place, in the Alan Garner novel, "The Weirdstone of Brisingamen". This was while I was an inmate at school in Richmond, Yorkshire, sometime in the early 1970s. At about the same time, I read "Earthfasts" by William Mayne, a similarly fantastic story, set in the real location of Richmond, and weaving its narrative from elements of local legend, local landscape, and time travel. Both books were exactly the kind of story to appeal to my imagination, and when I finally realised that Alderley was a real place too, and that the Legend of the Wizard of Alderley Edge was similarly a "real" legend, the spell was complete.

Eventually my parents moved to Wilmslow, where they lived for several years, and I was then able to discover the actual Alderley Edge for myself. I became so fascinated by the story that I spent many hours along and around the Edge, trying to identify all the crucial locations referred to in "The Weirdstone of Brisingamen". And, in a 'weird' way, the book was instrumental in my becoming a photographer: so obsessed did I become with the real places described in the book, that I decided to produce a photographic guide book to "The Weirdstone ...". I had recently borrowed and begun using an SLR for the first time, and under the impetus of taking the photos for the guide book, made a real effort to learn more about photography.

The Entrance To The Devil's Grave on Stormy Point

Needless to say, the guide book never happened. However, I did discover that I was genuinely interested in photography, and eventually went on to study photographic technology at Manchester Polytechnic.

The obsession with "The Weirdstone ..." continued, and culminated in a re-creation of the journey, made by the main characters at the end of the book, between Alderley Edge and Shutlingsloe, a hill above Macclesfield Forest in the Peak District. In the story the children, in the company of warrior dwarves whose duty is to protect them, must travel from Fundindelve, the Wizard's home beneath Alderley Edge, to meet Cadellin the Wizard on the summit of Shutlingsloe. They are pursued by Witches and a variety of mythological monsters, so the route that they follow makes its way across country, taking advantage of all the landscape features that will give them cover from their pursuers. Our re-creation, though, was constrained by the modern necessity to follow rights of way, so much of the central part of the route was unable to follow the original.

The Wizard Of Alderley Edge

There is a short section in the book, as our heroes attempt to pass unseen by the pub in the village of Gawsworth. To our delight, the Harrington Arms is a real pub, and back then (late 70s - early 80s) was relatively untouched by modernity. Indeed, until 1984, when Robinson's Brewery gave the bar a bit of refurbishment, there was no bar - beer was dispensed by gravity from casks laid down behind the serving counter. The then-landlady, Marjory Bayley, was as likely to sell you potatoes as beer, and although she cultivated the outward appearance of being a curmudgeonly elderly lady, she was always very kind to me and my friends (one cold and wet New Year's Day, despite the fact that we turned-up late in the afternoon, she rescued us from starvation by producing a plate of sandwiches long after the lunchtime period was over).

So, despite the fact that we were forced by circumstance to make our way to Shutlingsloe via public rights of way, we were still able (indeed we made a point of it) to call into the Harrington Arms for lunch. Afterward, the summit of Shutlingsloe was achieved without much difficulty, but was not the end of our journey. We still had several miles farther to go (mainly downhill, of course) to get back to Macclesfield Railway Station, to catch the train back to Manchester.

Engine Vein Mine

I moved to Kendal in 1987, and it was to be many years before I would set foot on Alderley Edge again. We had occasional flying visits, when we might manage an hour to walk out to Stormy Point and Castle Rock. When we did, I was struck by just how small and urban the Edge seemed to be. Yet when we lived in Manchester, and Alderley was our regular 'Escape to the Country' it felt positively like wilderness. How perceptions change.

The Wizard's Well

I recently had an opportunity to return and have a proper look round again. The photographs here in this post are from that occasion, and the full set of pictures can be seen on my Picasa gallery. I intend (and it is worth remembering that the road to hell is paved with good intentions) to dig out some of my old photos from the 1980s, and display them here as a comparison with the new pictures. Anyway, the weather on the day of my excursion was excellent, and I managed to get a reasonable walk under my belt. I went to all the old familiar places on the Edge proper, but also had sufficient time to make my way across to the other side of the Macclesfield Road onto the South side of the slope. I was quite surprised to find that, although much was familiar, there was quite a lot that I did not recognise. Not that anything had necessarily changed, just that my memory is becoming increasingly unreliable.

Shutlingsloe, the Scene Of Armageddon in the Weirdstone

One disappointment was to find that many of the old quarry and mine workings have been 'made safe'. Entrances to tunnels have been walled-in or had doors fitted, and quite extensive areas have been fenced - presumably to reduce the risk of someone tumbling over an edge. And yet Castle Rock, which has a genuine long drop, is still unencumbered and allows the bold or the adventurous the opportunity to dangle their legs over the abyss. Political Correctness Gone Mad!

The View of Jodrell Bank from the South Side of the Edge

And so I say to all who may have read Harry Potter: forget that bloated, overwritten, exploitative claptrap! If you want to see how a tale of Wizards, magic and fantasy should be written - with economy, style and grace - read Alan Garner's "The Weirdstone of Brisingamen". And then visit Alderley Edge, to see how such a tale can inhabit the real world, without the need for Diagon Alleys, or Platforms of fractional numericality.

Alexander's Ale Festival, 2014

Autumn colour at Alexander's, the Pub at Castle Green

The 2014 Edition of the Alexander's Ale Festival, held in the Function Room of the Castle Green Hotel, got off to a flying start on Friday April 11th. with several of the Bowness Bay beers selling out on night One!  Thankfully, Saturday afternoon started in gently, giving time and space for quiet contemplation of the beers on offer.

 (How did John Smiths Smooth get in there? It's a bloody Beer Festival!)

Top performers, based on a straw-poll of those present, were: Swan Black, from Bowness Bay; Billonde, from Brewshine (apparently made by a man from Kendal in his garage); American Hop from Lancaster Brewery; and (definitely the winner) Angram IPA from Tigertops Brewery in Wakefield. Tigertops is owned by the same people who bring us Foxfield beers from the Prince of Wales pub at Foxfield, and the Angram IPA was a refreshing blast of citrus and hops right from the word go.

 The sun eventually came out, although it was too breezy to sit outside for any length of time. Alexander's, the Pub at the Castle Green Hotel, truly has the finest situation of any pub in Kendal. The Ale Festival, taking place as it does in the Function Room, enjoys much the same view, and when the sun shines, if it's warm enough, you really can't find a better place to enjoy a beer than the hotel lawn.

Live entertainment was supplied by The Mustard Cutters. By common consent, they really "Cut The Mustard" on the night, performing numbers that were clearly popular with the audience, and getting large numbers on the dance floor as the evening went along.

You can see an album of photos of the Ale festival, including lots of The Mustard Cutters, by clicking this link.

This may not be the real world that we think it is ...

When I was a child, because my Dad was in the army, my family and I spent short periods of time living abroad in a number of different places. This involved a lot of travelling. At that time I had the uncomfortable feeling that we never actually travelled anywhere at all. I couldn't shake the idea that when we got into an aeroplane at, let's say, Luton Airport, and then landed in Germany, we hadn't actually left the ground at all. All that had happened was an unknown group of (possibly alien) manipulators shook the plane around a bit to make it seem like we were flying, and while that was going on, all the scenery and people were moved around. When we got off the plane some hours later, believing ourselves to be in Germany, we were actually still in the same place we had always been - but we didn't recognise it, and all the (maybe alien) people had started to talk in German.

The feeling stayed with me for years (and if I am honest, has never really completely gone away) and was reinforced when I read a sci-fi story about just such a delusion suffered by the main character. In the story, it transpired that he was not deluded, but was really living in a constructed reality as part of a mysterious experiment by aliens. And more recently the film "The Truman Show" has put another spin on a similar theme.

In September 2011, Fiona and I made a visit to Liverpool with friends Susan and Leigh, in part to see an exhibition of works by Rene Magritte at the Tate Liverpool. I was most familiar with Magritte as the author of the painting "La Trahison des Images (Ceci n'est pas une pipe)" ("The treachery of images (This is not a pipe)"). I occasionally used it in Photography classes to encourage students to consider what an image is:

Me (passing round the picture): "What is this?"

Student 1: "It's a pipe."

Me: "Anyone else?"

Student 2: "It's a picture of a pipe."

Back to the Tate exhibition. Much of Magritte's work focusses on the problems of perception, and the pieces in the exhibition that I found particularly fascinating have titles that seem to be significant to their meanings. "Evening Falls" seems an obvious double meaning, referring both to the setting sun outside the window, and to the broken shards of glass littering the floor. "The Human Condition" though, with the easel in front of the window, is more enigmatic. These two pictures, being more 'landscapey' than much of his work, got me thinking about the ideas of place that they aroused in me, and recalled my childhood paranoia about never actually traveling, and which I equate with my uncertainties concerning my control over my life.

This led to the idea for the picture that I have called "Memories of Childhood" (above). When I made the picture, I had not got a photograph of a suitable window; but I remembered that I had some interior views of a Shepherd's Hut from a holiday in Dorset in 2010. I thought that one of the pictures would suffice for a first trial - what would it be like to discover that my fears from all those years ago were justified, and that everything I do is being monitored by some other being, peering in through a gap that occasionally appears in the fabric of our universe? To add to my present confusion, some current thinking about cosmology, and some arguments about perception, lead me to a supposition that the world depicted in the Wachowski Brothers' movie "The Matrix" may not be that far off the mark!

The second image (to the right) is an early attempt at recreating the "Evening Falls" image, made from the view from Susan and Leigh's room in the hotel where we stayed in Liverpool. (Or should that be "made from an image of the view from Susan and Leigh's room in the hotel where we stayed in Liverpool?)

Things are not what they seem.