Although there is now a forum on the site (as yet not much used), this page is going to be for you to have your say on stuff.  This is more intended for submission of articles and stuff (like that from Grumpy) rather than for starting conversations or threads.  Please feel free to contribute on any topic (within reason).

Send your contributions to info@puritonparishcouncil.gov.uk

So far we have (just click on a heading below to go to the article):

Long Term Recycling (and how it works)

First of all you find an area of outstanding natural beauty, e.g. the Mendips.

Then, with the aid of dynamite and humungously big machinery, blast big holes in it, crush it into small pieces (uniform in size), take it to Riverton Road and spread it about willy nilly.

Now the trick is this - after a few days it all ends up on the pavement then, with the aid of shoes, gets carried into your homes.  With the aid of a dustpan and brush, vacuum cleaner and other such utensils it gets cleaned up and put into your rubbish bin.

On Thursday Somerset Waste Partnership come and take it away and put it back into the ground.  Then, in a couple of million years time, the whole process is repeated.

'Hey Presto' - sustainable road dressing!

Submitted by Dave Bloomfield (who else? - editor)

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The Great Crane Project

When I was sent a copy of the Great Crane Chronicle, I thought it might have something to do with the building of Hinkley C or the Morrisons depot, or some other colossal construction project that was being inflicted on this part of Somerset.  But it was actually the newsletter of the Great Crane Project, concerned with cranes of the feathered variety, namely the Eurasian crane (Grus grus), and its reintroduction into the Somerset Levels and Moors.

It seems that cranes were once widespread in Great Britain, and indeed roast crane formed part of Henry III’s Christmas dinner in 1251.  However, with the draining of marshes and wetlands, cranes lost their habitat and declined in numbers.  They had disappeared from Britain as a breeding bird before the 17th century.

Now there is a project to bring eggs from a colony of cranes in Brandenburg, eastern Germany, hatch and rear them at the Wildfowl & Wetlands Trust at Slimbridge and eventually release them on to the Levels and Moors.

If the reintroduction is successful, these birds will certainly provide entertainment for anyone lucky enough to see them.  Mated pairs engage in coordinated calling, usually with heads thrown back and beaks skyward.  The birds also perform a flamboyant dance, involving bowing, jumping, running, stick or grass tossing and wing flapping.

You can get further information about the Great Crane Project from Damon Bridge on 01458 254414.

Interesting crane facts:  The wild geranium is known as cranesbill on account of the shape of its fruit; in Chinese culture, the crane is an auspicious bird and a symbol of long life.

Information for this report came from the Project’s newsletter, the Great Crane Chronicle, and the websites of the Pensthorpe Conservation Trust and the International Crane Foundation (www.savingcranes.org).

Old Bat on a Bike

To see the Great Crane Project newsletter click view newsletter

(Picture courtesy of www.savingcranes.org)

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Grumpy on Expenses etc

Not many people have heard about one of the finest small groups of musicians in England.  Based within the capital in by no means modest surroundings, and part of a larger group of Musical Performers numbering approximately 640, they are (allegedly) among some of the finest players of the fiddle in the country…

Just a topical gag to lighten the mood in these days of expense claims (aka ‘allowances’), for moat clearing, horse doodah, bath plugs and adult DVD’s.  If it weren’t so serious we’d wet ourselves laughing.  Unfortunately it is very serious and we’re most definitely not amused. The long term damage is hard to visualise but the public’s response will be to cast a dubious eye over all figures in political life – the ripple effect will go out from Westminster into the shires and I for one would not be a political candidate (of any hue) on the stump for the forthcoming local or Euro elections.

On the positive front, summer is very much on the horizon with all that entails.  Picnics, back garden barbeques, holidays, the school fete, balmy evenings and even balmier headlines.  The Met Office has predicted a sizzling summer so that can only mean one thing – a deluge of downpours, torrential rain and floods of Biblical proportions.  We must act now.  I suggest we make contingency plans to form an encampment on high

ground in ‘New Ground Covert’ (keeping an ear open for any cuckoos) and squat there like Swampy until the waters subside.

The village Scarecrow competition was interesting.  Sadly I didn’t enter but somehow was awarded 4th place with a rosette entitled ‘much improved’ – I just happened to be in the front garden in trance mode as the judges went past.

My dog owning friends in the village inform me that the ‘poop bins’ have been a welcome addition to the locale.  They would however appreciate them being emptied on a more regular basis by whoever is responsible for this odious but worthy task.  Don’t suppose this figures high on those prospective councillors’ list of election promises though.

On walking around the village I’m encouraged by the amount of building projects that seem to be in progress.  Perhaps people have decided to invest in their existing properties rather than move home in these straightened times.  Adding extensions, converting garages or loft conversions are all a good way of adding value to one’s property ready for when the market picks up.  It’s either that or selling the family silver – though not at Puriton Car Boot I’ll wager.  We love car boots – they’re great for selling things we no longer want and buying things we don’t really need.  It’s a sort of continuous recycling of tat.  Mind you, the Puriton Car Boot seems to be forever migrating eastwards in its location – it’ll soon be pitching up in Woolavington.  Of course the downside of car boots is getting out of them.  Maureen’s is fine, as is Puriton’s but don’t get me started about the Cheddar boot or Proctor’s Farm in West Monkton just outside Taunton.  The latter is the boot from Hell when attempting to leave with your ‘bargains’.  Spend two hours tat hunting and three hours jostling with other cars trying to get out through the one and only exit – which also happens to be the only entrance. It was easier to get out of Colditz – and probably less stressful.

I’m off to sort out my expenses – if only I had a second home… Until next time fellow villeins.

Quote to float your boat: ‘Being defeated is often a temporary condition. Giving up is what makes it permanent.’

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Village Walks - in search of the Cuckoo, 19^th April

It's that time of year now when many of us less hardy souls think of getting out and about to walk off some of the winter lethargy.  There are several walks in and around the village with a number of waymarked footpaths and bridleways.

Judith Fletcher was out and about recently hoping to catch the sound of an early cuckoo and her account of her walk is below.

If the names of the coverts which she mentions are not familiar to you, have a look at the leaflet "Puriton Pathways", which was featured in the Spring edition of the newsletter last year.

The leaflet decribes several walks and has a map showing all the pathways.  There are still copies available from the Post Office, Judith Fletcher or Pete Burke.

You can also click on this link to download the map section.

And, of course, if anyone has heard a cuckoo this year please write in and tell us where and when.

By Judith Fletcher

This is a great time of year to walk the village footpaths – especially since the recent fine weather means it’s relatively dry underfoot. 

A Letter from Cecil Lane

Cecil has kindly written the following to me.....

Dear Sir,

Having just received a copy of the new "Newsletter", I write to congratulate you on its excellence.

As a life-long resident I am very impressed.

You are probably aware that for many years my Grandfather was the village blacksmith at "The Forge", which was then on the left of Hillside (now a row of council dwellings).

My Grandmother was the Post Mistress for many years in the old Post Office on the corner of the crossroads and, as an infant, I attended the old schoolroom by the gateway to the church.  How time flies, doesn't it!

I have recently celebrated my 88th birthday and have so many memories.

As you may know, I was for many years in the printing trade at Bridgwater and Clevedon, returning here on retirement.

We may meet sometime.

Hope you are enjoying life,
All good wishes
Cecil Lane

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Have you got AAADD?

For those of us that get to the top of the stairs and then wonder what we’re doing there, then go back down again only to remember, when we get back to the bottom, why we went up in the first place, here’s a ‘scientific’ explanation.

Thank goodness I’m not alone……….

I went to the doctor yesterday and have been diagnosed with Age Activated Attention Deficit Disorder.

This is how it manifests itself.

I need to wash the car, but as I go towards the garage, I notice that there is mail on the hall table.  I decide to go through it before washing the car.  I put the keys down on the table, put the junk mail in the bin and notice it is full, so I decide to put the bills back on the table and take the bin out.

Then I think that, since I am near the post-box when I take out the bin, I might as well pay the bills first.  I take my cheque book off the table, and see that there is only one cheque left, so I go back to the desk in my study where I find a bottle of Coke I’d been drinking.  I’m about to look for a new cheque book when I notice the Coke is warm, so I decide to put it in the fridge.
I head towards the kitchen and a vase of flowers in need of water catches my eye. . As I put the Coke down on the work-top, I notice my glasses, which I’ve been looking for all the morning.  I decide I’d better take them back to my desk, but first I must water the flowers.

I’m filling a jug with water, when I spot the TV remote control on the kitchen table.  Tonight, when we go to watch T.V., we’ll be looking for it, so I decide to take it back to the lounge but first I must water the flowers.  Before watering them, some spills on the floor, so I put the remote down to wipe it up, then head off down the hall trying to remember what I had planned to do.

Now it’s the end of the day.

The car isn’t washed; the bills aren’t paid; there’s a warm bottle of Coke on the work-top; the flowers aren’t watered; there’s only one cheque in my cheque book; I can’t find my glasses and I don’t know what I did with the car keys. I try to work out why nothing has been done today and I’m baffled because I’ve been really busy and now I’m really tired.  I realise that this is a problem and I’ll try to get some help, but first I must check my e-mails!!!

Anonymous

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And here's Grumpy's contribution for February

There are no doubt many arguments for and against living and working in the Britain of 2009. Those arguments will differ considerably depending on where and when a person was born, how they were brought up, raised and nurtured and what political hue is favoured. So, as we have been recently in partial hibernation in so-called ‘arctic conditions’, I’ve found myself reaching for some solid object to lob at the plasma when yet another example of barmy Britain is broadcast. Are we in the U.K. unique in putting our collective size 10’s in it? Probably not, but just lately there has been a rash of examples where I have been sufficiently incensed to check out the next one-way family ticket to New Zealand or some other far flung refuge.

Such examples (without going into too much detail in order to maintain my blood pressure at just below Vesuvius level) might include bankers and taxpayer’s hard-earned cash; Health & Safety conditions that Lewis Carrol would have been proud to publish; greedy peers of the realm with their snouts in the trough; suffocating political correctness; the single issue vocal minority appearing to represent the silent majority; defending everyone’s faith or ‘belief system’ whilst openly denigrating and marginalising our own.

OK, you can relax now – I’ve come down off my soapbox and locked it away until the red mist descends again… On quiet reflection we are far more fortunate than many other countries – it’s just that most of us either don’t realise it or we have no yardstick against which we can measure it. Even our own village can be taken for granted; we’re comparatively lucky in being located in a pleasant part of the country, with a great school, good pub, a working Post Office, shop, butchers, village hall, the 37 Club, not forgetting the jewel in our collective crown: the Sports Centre – aka the Bowls Club…

Mind you – I notice that the urban sprawl of Bridgwater is creeping ever closer to our beloved enclave with the new development on Bristol Road (the curiously named ‘Woodlands’). How long before our parish colleagues around the Admiral’s Table are assimilated into this encroachment?

Nice to see the lighter evenings are now beginning to break through – always a welcome sign that the advent of spring is imminent. Before you can say ‘Monty Don’ you’ll be blowing the cobwebs off your Spear & Jackson’s and wishing you’d given the lawnmower a last clean before its enforced hibernation at the back of the garage clutter. Oh the joys of gardening. Weeding, mowing, the annual jet washing of the patio slabs and the frequent pilgrimages to the Temple of the Green-Fingered – the Garden Centre. Who can resist these bucolic pastimes? Me for one.

Oh well, better go and give the green wheelie bin its MOT. Until next time fellow villeins.

Quote to float your boat: At 50, everyone has the face he derserves.

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Here's the first contribution from "Grumpy":