Number Seventy News

Leaving Selby on the Trans-Pennine trail does not inspire the lyric muse. Only the knowledge that up and down this narrow tidal ditch came Vikings, Hugenots, voyagers of every ilk, right up to the last century, in their hundreds of sailing or oared boats, barges, lifts one’s thoughts to ignore the truly poor cycling surface. Not far though, to the glorious church at Hemingbrough with its slender, elegant spire, followed by a section of trail at the foot of the flood bank - though the views are better, if bumpier, from the top. And then the Barmby Barrage - surely one of the seven wonders of the East Riding - stopping up the Derwent with all its capacity to become a raging torrent (or is it to protect the Derwent from the force of a spring tide and an easterly gale?). Barmby is a surprisingly flourishing village, though on the map it looks like the end of nowhere, but housebuilders have been busy and buyers buying and the post office still exists. Both here and at Asselby, my destination, I did wonder about the potential for flooding - but then I would in Holland too.

Return through the charms of South Duffield, Skipwith (thanks for the tea, Pete), Deighton and the ever reliable Selby Cycle Track. In time for tea.

The first pedallers’ outing of the year took us from the Blacksmith’s Arms in Huntington - where one of our number was served with the world’s longest chip (possibly an extrusion) via the slippy banks of the Foss to the Tiger in Haxby.  One intrepid soul, aware this was a pedaller’s trip, nonetheless followed on foot, making excellent time.  Our first follower ! The Tiger, although a large room, enjoyed the Tadcaster arrangement whereby all the locals gather closely round the door, enabling an intimate inspection of all strangers coming and going.

On in the dark across the bridleway towards Skelton - fortunately no large clods to send us into the ditch, nor love-cars bouncing under the hedges. Serious deficit of pickled eggs at the Blacksmiths, formerly a winner of the ISOTOPE award.  Back into town via Route 65, an old favourite in the dark of the night, made glorious by the sight of the new wheel lit up in star-quenching splendour.

And so to bed. (Observant folk may note that I have not metioned any of the beers consumed.  Draw your own conclusions).

It’s over 30 years since I started visiting the York Model Railway show, held every Easter. This year’s was the best I can remember for a long time. There was a good selection of layouts - the ones I like best are the larger ones where prototypically long trains run through scenery or a largish station - but even some of the small branch lines seemed more interesting this year. Most operators seem to have got the message that something interesting needs to be happening most of the time - and not just interesting to the operators. And York Racecourse grandstand is such a good venue!

Digital control interests me - I’ve seen the Marklin version on a small layout, where there seems less need - but for what I’ve got in mind it sounds ideal. Let’s hope that like many digi-things, costs will come down.

One of my favourite books to look through when I was a kid (in the 50s) was a collection of the works of the WWII War Artists - which included Paul Nash and Henry Moore (Moore’s massive, sculpted drawings of sleepers in the Tube shelters). I don’t think I’d realised that war artists had also been appointed in WWI but there’s currently (but only until the end of the month) an exhibition of their work at the Imperial War Museum North, in Salford.

Most of the paintings (plus a few sculptures) were very specific as to date and place, and it had enabled the curators to set panels beside each painting with quotations from people who had been there, or nearby, or in a similar situation. Paul Nash did a lot of work in this war too, but others were new to me and quite a revelation, especially Nevinson, who had a very avant-garde style. They weren’t afraid to convey the horror, little of it could have been called propaganda. There was one painting of the wounded of the Somme leaving in ambulances from Charing Cross station, while the newspaper placards proclaimed “Victory on the Somme.” Given that the painting was finished some time after the event, by which time the “victory” was known to be a defeat, this cannot be innocent.

The rest of the museum, apart from being gobsmackingly odd architecturally, concentrates on the 20th Century and traces the history of the various wars in which GB has been involved. Incredibly moving, and ultimately depressing - how can the human race spend so much time, money and lives on a destructive activity which seems to deny our humanity?