by

Before potatoes and rice, there were pulses

Although I spent most of my career working on potatoes and rice, my first interest was pulse crops or grain legumes. In fact the first pulse that I studied was the lentil (Lens culinaris Medik.) when I was an MSc student at the University of Birmingham from 1970-1971.

So why the interest in pulses?

It was surely the influence of one of my mentors, Dr Joe Smartt (right) at the University of Southampton where I was awarded my BSc in Environmental Botany and Geography in 1970. A geneticist who had studied groundnuts in Africa and at Southampton was working on Phaseolus beans, Joe taught a second year genetics course, and two in the third or final year, on plant breeding and plant speciation.

He published two seminal texts on pulses in 1976 and 1990.

It was Joe who ignited my interest in plant genetic resources, and encouraged me to apply for a place on the one year MSc course at Birmingham on Conservation and Utilization of Plant Genetic Resources (CUPGR). The course had been launched by the head of the Department of Botany, potato expert, and genetic resources pioneer, Professor Jack Hawkes, with the first intake of students commencing their studies in September 1969. I landed in Birmingham a year later.

My three year undergraduate course at Southampton was a stroll in the park compared to the intensity of that one year MSc course. We had eight months of lectures and practical classes, followed by written examinations at the end of May. Each student also had to complete a piece of independent but supervised research, and present a dissertation for examination in September. In order to take full advantage of the summer months, planning and some initial research began much earlier. First of all for most of us, we had to decide on a topic that was feasible and doable in the allotted time, and assemble the necessary seed samples ready for planting at the most appropriate date.

Almost immediately I decided on three points. First, I wanted to run a project with a taxonomy/natural variation theme. Second, I wanted—if feasible—to work on a pulse species. And finally (which I decided quite quickly after arriving in Birmingham) I wanted to work with Dr Trevor Williams (right) who delivered a brilliant series of lectures on variation in natural populations, among others.

Trevor and I thumbed our way through the Leguminosae (now Fabaceae) section of Flora Europaea, until we came upon the entry for Lens, and the topic for my project leapt off the page: Lens culinaris Medik. Lentil. Origin unknown.

My project had two components:

  • An analysis of variation in the then five species of lentil (one cultivated, the others wild species; the taxonomy has changed subsequently) from herbarium specimens borrowed from several herbaria in Europe. I also spent a week in the Herbarium at Kew Gardens in London taking measurements from their complete set of lentil specimens.
  • A study of variation in Lens culinaris from living plants, with seeds obtained from Russia (the Vavilov Institute in St Petersburg), from the (then) East German genebank in Gatersleben, and from the agricultural research institute in Madrid.

With the guidance of another member of the Botany department staff, Dr Herb Kordan, I made chromosome preparations and counts of all the Lens culinaris samples I’d obtained, confirming they were all diploid with 2n=2x=14 chromosomes. In the process, we developed a simple but effective technique for making chromosome squash preparations, and this led to my first ever publication in 1972. Just click on the title below (and others in this post) to read the full text.

In September 1971, I submitted my dissertation, Studies in the genus Lens Miller with special reference to Lens culinaris Medik. (which was examined by Professor Norman Simmonds who was the course External Examiner), and the degree was awarded.

I proposed that the wild progenitor of the cultivated lentil was Lens orientalis (Boiss.) Hand.-Mazz., a conclusion reached independently by Israeli botanist Daniel Zohary in a paper published the following year.

In 1971-1972, Carmen Kilner (née Sánchez) continued with the lentil studies at Birmingham, leading to a publication in SABRAO Journal in 1974. Our paper added further evidence to confirm the status of Lens orientalis.

When I began my lentil project, I had ideas to extend it to a PhD were the funding available. However, in February 1971 Jack Hawkes had just returned from a potato collecting mission to Bolivia, and told me about an exciting opportunity to spend a year in Peru at the newly-founded International Potato Center (CIP), from September that same year. My departure to Peru was delayed until January 1973, so I began a PhD on potatoes with Jack in the meantime. And with that move to potatoes, I assumed that any future work with pulses was more or less ruled out. However, from April 1981 I was appointed Lecturer in Plant Biology at Birmingham, and needed to develop a number of research areas. Would pulses figure in those plans?

While I wanted to continue projects on potatoes at Birmingham, I also decided to return partially to my first interest: pulses. And while I never had major grants in this area, I did supervise graduate students for MSc and PhD degrees who worked on a range of grain and forage legume/pulse species. Here I highlight the work of three students. There may have been more who worked on pulses, but after four decades I can’t remember those details.

Almost immediately after returning to Birmingham, I discovered (by looking through Flora Europaea once again) that the origin of the grasspea, Lathyrus sativus, was unknown. The grasspea is a distant relative of the ornamental sweetpea, Lathyrus odoratus, one of my favorite flowers since I was a small boy. My grandfather used to grow a multitude of sweetpeas in his cottage garden in Derbyshire. Anyway, I set about assembling a large collection of seed samples (or accessions) of grasspea and wild Lathyrus species from agricultural centers and botanic gardens worldwide.

The academic year September 1981-September 1982 was my first full year at Birmingham. Among the CUPGR intake was a Malaysian student, Abdul bin Ghani Yunus (right), who asked me to supervise his MSc research project. I persuaded him to tackle a study of variation in the grasspea and its wild relatives, much along the lines I had approached lentil a decade earlier.

We published this paper in 1984, and I guess it heralded what would become, a several decades later, an international collaborative effort to improve the grasspea and make it safer for human consumption.

Ghani returned to Malaysia, and I didn’t hear from him for several years. Then, in 1987, he contacted me to say he’d secured a Malaysian government grant to study for his PhD and would like to return to Birmingham. But to work on a tropical species, the name of which I cannot remember.

I persuaded him that would not really be feasible in Birmingham as we didn’t have the glasshouse space available, and it would be hit or miss whether we would be able to grow it successfully. I suggested it would be better to carry on his Lathyrus work from where he left off. And that’s what he did, successfully submitting his thesis in 1990 from which these papers were published.

Among the 1986 CUPGR intake was a student from Mexico, José Andrade-Aguilar (right) who was keen to attempt a pre-breeding study in Phaseolus beans, specifically trying to cross the tepary bean, Phaseolus acutifolius A. Gray with the common bean, Phaseolus vulgaris L.

José published two papers from his dissertation.

This next paper (for which I no longer have a copy) described how pollinations in Phaseolus species could be made more successful.

Then, in 1987, a student from Spain, Javier Francisco-Ortega (right, actually from Tenerife in the Canary Islands) joined the course, and he and I worked closely on his MSc and PhD projects until I left Birmingham to join IRRI in the Philippines in July 1991.

Javier was an extraordinary student: hard-working, focused, and very productive. After completing his PhD in 1992, he took two postdoctoral fellowships in the USA (at Ohio State University and the University of Texas at Austin) before joining the faculty of the Department of Biological Sciences at Florida International University in 1999, where he has been Professor in Plant Molecular Systematics since 2012.

For his 1988 MSc dissertation, Javier studied the variation in Lathyrus pratensis L., using multivariate analysis, and publishing this paper some years later.

Then, having successfully completed his MSc, and being awarded a second Spanish government scholarship, Javier began a PhD project to study the ecogeographical variation in an endemic forage legume from the Canary Islands, Chamaecytisus proliferus (L. fil.) Link., known locally as tagasaste or escobón, depending whether it is cultivated or a purely wild type.

With a special grant from the International Board for Plant Genetic Resources (IBPGR, now Bioversity International) in Rome, Javier returned to the Canary Islands in the summer of 1989 to survey populations and collect seeds from as many provenances as possible across all the islands, and I joined him there for several weeks.

Collecting escobón (Chamaecytisus proliferus) in Tenerife in 1989

After I left Birmingham, my colleague Professor Brian Ford-Lloyd took over supervision of Javier’s research, seeing it through to completion in 1992.

Together we published these papers from his research on tagasaste and escobón.

Once I was in the Philippines, I forgot completely about legume species, apart from contributing to any of the papers that were published after I’d left Birmingham.

One aspect that is particularly gratifying however is seeing the work Ghani Yunus and I did on Lathyrus still being cited in the literature as efforts are scaled up to improve grasspea lines.

 

by

Belsay redux . . .

The relentless wet weather these past weeks has been a bit of a theme in my recent blog posts. Such that we haven’t been able to get out and about as much as we’d like. But when the forecast promises better days—even a few hours on some days—we grab those opportunities with enthusiasm. And so it was last Tuesday: sunny intervals although there was a cold wind blowing from the north.

Just after 09:30 we headed out to Belsay Hall, Castle, and Gardens, which is about 19 miles west from home on the route we took, on the A696 past Newcastle International airport and through Ponteland.

We first visited Belsay in 2009 while I was still working in the Philippines and we were back in this country on home leave. Since we moved to the northeast in 2020 we been back a handful of times, the last apparently in May 2022 (according to my photographic records) although I really did think we’d visited since then.

Belsay has been home to the Middleton family since the 13th century, living (until the early 19th century) in a castle and manor house some distance from the large hall that stands there today.

Sir Charles Monck (1779-1867)

To some eyes, Belsay Hall must appear rather austere, built between 1810 and 1817 for Sir Charles Monck, the 6th baronet (according to his own design – he was enthusiastic for the Greek classical style). It’s exactly square, 100 feet (30 m more or less) on all sides.

So why Monck? In order to inherit his maternal grandfather’s estates in Lincolnshire, Sir Charles he changed his surname from Middleton to Monck. His grandson, Arthur (the 7th baronet) inherited Belsay in 1867, and changed his name back to Middleton almost a decade later.

The Middleton baronetcy was created in 1662, but became extinct in 1999 on the death of the 10th baronet. However, the Middleton family still live on the Belsay estate, but not in the hall. That is an empty shell, and remains so under terms of its guardianship agreement from 1980. But that doesn’t mean that the interiors cannot be used for other purposes, as we saw last week. But more of that later on.

Belsay has been through a renaissance, receiving a huge investment to make the hall watertight by replacing its roof.

Two years ago Belsay was completely encased in scaffolding and English Heritage offered timed visits to see the repair work on the roof, which we just missed on our last visit.

A tubular slide was erected from the top of the building, which Steph and I could not resist trying out.

Now the scaffolding has been removed and you can once again appreciate Belsay in all its classical glory.

And English Heritage has not stopped there. Some of the estate buildings have been refurbished, such as the new café and toilets close to the castle. A new, and much larger car park has been opened close to the hall.

The gardens (which were always attractive) have received a lot of loving attention from staff gardeners and volunteers. We were told by one volunteer that during the Covid lockdown, there were only two gardeners working on the estate, and between them they planted more than 30,000 plants. On our visit the gardens were looking in excellent condition. It appeared that paths had been repaired, lots of new signs had been placed around explaining details about and the history of Belsay, and enhancing the visitor experience.

The Quarry Garden is a special place, and was waking up, with even some rhododendrons in full bloom. Having arrived just after 10 am, and after a welcome cup of americano in the café, we strolled through the gardens to the castle, and more or less had the whole garden to ourselves. So very peaceful.

The Belsay ‘wild man’.

On our walk around Belsay, there were many references to the ‘wild man‘, a medieval mythical figure —perhaps a Northumberland version of the ‘Green Man‘—adopted as a symbol of the Middleton family from the fifteenth century . . . and appear[ing] as a crest on the family’s coat of arms, in wall paintings, [and] as a carved stone statue. And in the ground floor hall of the castle, his story was told in an animation projected on the wall.

We also like to find the carved faces. Have you ever seen them?

Then it was back into the hall for the first time since 2021. As I mentioned earlier, all the rooms are bare, the wood panelling having been removed after World War II due to dry rot. And the leaky roof until recently didn’t help the situation one iota. Here’s an album of photos taken in 2021.

Since we became members of the National Trust and English Heritage in 2011 and 2015, respectively, I have become slightly obsessed with vintage wallpapers in their properties. And these have featured in several of my posts.

Belsay has some impressive wallpapers in several of the bedrooms on the first floor, although badly damaged in some rooms through damp and silverfish.

Having no furniture to display, Belsay Hall has become an excellent venue for art exhibitions, such as the Lucky Spot by Stella McCartney made from thousands of Swarovski crystals suspended from the ceiling of the Great Hall of the Castle, which we viewed in July 2009.

And there was another exhibition, by Ingrid Pollard MBE, on display last week, which will continue until mid-July.

Ingrid Pollard’s exhibition covers the ground floor Pillar Hall, library, and dining room, and three first floor bedrooms, as well as several strategically placed polished steel mirrors in the Quarry Garden.

On the whole, I’m afraid I didn’t find her pieces too inspiring, apart from the mirrors in the Quarry Garden (Fissures in Reflection), and the sandstone rock suspended from the Pillar Hall balcony by ropes.

However, I do applaud English Heritage for taking every opportunity of exhibiting (and even commissioning, I believe) works of art to be displayed amongst Belsay’s impressive architecture.

 

by

Once one of the greatest monasteries in England

At breakfast earlier last week, Steph and I were comparing this past winter to the other three we have experienced since moving to the northeast in October 2020. It’s not that it has been particularly cold. Far from it. But, has it been wet!

It feels as though it hasn’t stopped raining since the beginning of the year. The ground is sodden. And as for getting out and about that we enjoy so much, there have been few days. Apart, that is, from local walks when it hasn’t been raining cats and dogs.

So, with a promising weather forecast for last Friday we made plans for an excursion, heading south around 70 miles into North Yorkshire to visit Byland Abbey, built by a Cistercian community in the 12th century, below the escarpment of the North York Moors.

It’s 12th Cistercian neighbours—less ruined, and arguably more famous—Rievaulx Abbey and Fountains Abbey, stand just 4 miles north as the crow flies and 18 miles southwest, respectively from Byland Abbey.

We decided to take in a couple of other sites on our way south, stopping off at Mount Grace Priory for a welcome cup of coffee and a wander round the gardens, and then—just a few miles further on—the small 12/13th century church of St Mary the Virgin, beside the A19 trunk road that we have passed numerous times, but never taken the opportunity to visit.

St Mary’s was once the parish church of a medieval village, Leake, now disappeared. Nowadays it serves the communities of Borrowby and Knayton. The tower is the earliest remaining structure, and the church has been added to over the centuries (floor plan).

There is a very large graveyard, still in use today, clearly shown in this drone footage.

Then it was on to Byland, taking the cross country route from the A19. And along the way, I saw my first ever hare (and nearly killed, which you’ll see at 02’22 ” in the video below). This route takes you through the delightful village of Coxwold.

Byland Abbey is mightily impressive, even though it’s a shell compared to Rievaulx, for example. But I had the impression that it was much larger than Rievaulx, and it must have been magnificent in its heyday. Its foundation was far from straightforward, and it took the monks more than 40 years before settling on the site at Byland.

Its west entrance is simply a wall, with the remains of what must have once been an incredible rose window. We saw a note on the English Heritage hut (closed on our visit) that there was a template for the window on the inside of the West Wall, but we couldn’t find it.

And from the entrance there is a view straight down the length of the church towards the North and South Transepts and the High Altar. Just the north wall is still standing, mostly. And when I look at ruins like Byland, I am just in awe of the craftsmanship that it took to build a church like this, with such beautifully dressed stone. I wonder how big a workforce was needed for the construction over the 25+ years it is estimated it took to complete the abbey?

At various locations around the ruins, and especially around the site of the high altar, ceramic floor tiles uncovered during excavations are currently not on view, but protected by tarpaulins.

Like all the other religious houses across the nation, Byland was closed during the Suppression of the Monasteries by King Henry VIII in 1538 and rapidly became a ruin. You can read an excellent history of the abbey on the English Heritage website.

You can view my photo album of Byland Abbey images (and from St Mary’s, Leake) here.

Leaving Byland Abbey, we headed up the escarpment on Wass Bank, stopped off to view the Kilburn White Horse again before heading down the precipitous 1:4 (25%) incline that is the infamous Sutton Bank.

The Kilburn White Horse can be seen for miles around, primarily from the southwest. It was supposedly constructed by a local schoolmaster, John Hodgson and his pupils in 1857. It covers an area of 6475 m² (or 1.6 acres). We had only seen it previously from a distance, or from the car park immediately below. This time we took the footpath at the top of the cliff, emerging near the horse’s ears. The walk from where we parked the car (alongside the glider field) took less than 10 minutes.

And although there wasn’t a good view of the horse per se from the path, the view south over the Vale of York was magnificent. We could see for at least 30 miles over a 200° panorama.

That’s the horse’s eye in the foreground.

 

by

“You don’t stumble upon your heritage. It’s there, just waiting to be explored and shared.” Robbie Robertson

Steph and I are enthusiastic members of the National Trust (NT, since 2011) and English Heritage (EH, since 2015). And we have now visited 145 National Trust properties, and 43 from English Heritage. As well as a smattering of others owned by the National Trust for Scotland, Historic Environment Scotland, and the Welsh heritage organization, Cadw, as well as some not affiliated with any of these organizations.

On this map, I have included all of these properties. You can also expand the map to full screen by clicking on this icon [ ] in the top right corner of the map. Just zoom in to explore in more detail, and click on each icon for more information.  They are also listed by region as well on this page.

Until three years ago, we lived in north Worcestershire, and visited many (almost all?) of the NT and EH properties within a 50 mile radius. Since 2020, we have lived in North Tyneside and have been exploring what the northeast has to offer. The NT has fewer properties close to home here in the northeast, although it does manage some spectacular stretches of coastline (as elsewhere in the country).

As you can see from the map, there are several regions of the country that we have yet to explore in any detail. We’ve still to visit the Lake District where the NT is well represented. English Heritage has more properties here in the northeast, but we’ve hardly scratched the surface yet.

Later this year we will spend a week in Norfolk and Suffolk, and have already planned which NT and EH properties to make a beeline for.

It’s hard to choose which have been my favorite visits over the past 13 years. Nevertheless, here are a few choices according to some rather arbitrary categories. The web links will take you to the stories I posted on this blog after each visit or to albums of my own photos.

Our heritage organizations are custodians of many fine properties, which frequently reflect the history of wealth accumulation over the centuries by the families that built and lived in them. As the National Trust is increasingly showing (and rightly so in my opinion, although it’s an approach not unanimously appreciated) how such wealth was accumulated, often off the back of nefarious activities like slavery. Also, even since we became members of the National Trust, visitors now have much more access than before, and photography (without flash) is now widely permitted. And that has made my visits all the more enjoyable.

So, here goes . . .

If I had to choose one property for its ostentation, it would have to be Waddesdon Manor, the former family home of the Rothschild family, near Aylesbury in Buckinghamshire. We visited in August 2014.

The North Front and main entrance
Waddesdon Manor, home of the Rothschilds
The Parterre from the first floor

What a treasure trove! Magnificent! It’s quite easy to be overwhelmed.

However, coming close behind must surely be Kingston Lacy in Dorset, Belton House in Lincolnshire, and Mount Stewart in Northern Ireland. And, of course, there’s Penrhyn Castle outside Bangor in North Wales that we visited for the first time last September.

Many of the houses have quite spectacular interiors, and I’ve taken quite an interest in those architectural features and furnishings. In 2016, we took a trip south from Bromsgrove to Claydon House in Buckinghamshire.

On arrival I discovered that, due to copyright considerations (the Verney family still live in one part of the property and own many of the furnishings), photography is not permitted inside the house. However, after a chat with the National Trust house manager, and explaining my blog and interest in design features of the house, I was given permission to photograph these and never published any photo until I’d been given clearance.

The carvings throughout the house are some of the finest in the country and work of 18th century carver and stonemason Luke Lightfoot (1722-1789).

In terms of carved woodwork, examples of the exquisite craftsmanship of Grinling Gibbons (1648-1721) can be seen at Petworth in West Sussex, Lyme in Cheshire, Belton House, and Sudbury Hall in Derbyshire.

Many properties have significant collections of paintings. There’s one that has particularly attracted my attention. It’s the enclosed courtyard at Wallington, where bright Pre-Raphaelite murals by Victorian painter William Bell Scott, several depicting local scenes and personalities, cover the walls. They are simply exquisite.

Over the many visits we’ve made, I’ve taken an interest in wallpapers, particularly those designed by William Morris. I guess one of the best examples has to be Wightwick Manor near Wolverhampton, which we visited in 2014.

I don’t have any photos from there since photography inside the house was not permitted. But here are some examples from Standen House in West Sussex.

During our visit to Northern Ireland in 2017, we spent a week visiting as many National Trust properties as possible. And there’s no doubt about it. Castle Ward, overlooking Strangford Lough, must be the most architecturally quirky anywhere across the nation.

Built in the 1760s by the 1st Viscount Bangor, he and his good lady wife were unable to agree on architectural style. So the southwest face is Classical Georgian while the northeast is Gothic. And this is repeated throughout the house. Quite extraordinary.

If I had to choose any others, it would be for the eclectic possessions accumulated by their owners and never discarded, at Erddig near Wrexham and Calke Abbey in Derbyshire. Or the active collecting of Charles Paget Wade at Snowshill Manor in the Cotswolds (below).

All of these heritage properties have claim to historic fame in one way or another. Where history was written. On reflection I have given that accolade to Chartwell, near Sevenoaks in Kent, the home of former Prime Minister Sir Winston Churchill. What a life lived!

I wasn’t sure quite what to expect, but was quite overwhelmed at the access visitors had to all areas of the house, to a huge number of Sir Winston’s possessions, and those of his wife Lady Clementine. Even Sir Winston’s huge collection of paintings. It was quite overwhelming.

Being a scientist, I’d always wanted to visit two properties in particular: Down House in Kent, the home of Charles Darwin; and Woolsthorpe Manor near Grantham in Lincolnshire, the birthplace of 17/18th century polymath, Sir Isaac Newton.

I was a little disappointed with the Down House visit. I felt that English Heritage hadn’t made as much of presenting the property as they might have.

And, due to Darwin family restrictions, photography was not permitted inside. Nevertheless, as a student of evolution, it was a privilege to wander around the house and gardens, knowing this was where Darwin formulated his theory of the origin of species.

The legacy of 18th century landscape architect Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown (right) can be seen at multiple properties across the country. He was born in Kirkharle, Northumberland, just over 19 miles (30 km) northwest of where we now live.

For me, there are two standout landscapes that Brown designed, one of them—at Croome Court in Worcestershire—being among his earliest commissions. The other is at Stowe in Buckinghamshire.

The parkland at Croome has the Croome River that was hand dug over several years, against the backdrop of the Malvern Hills. Quite spectacular, and being one of our ‘local’ heritage sites, Croome became a favorite of ours when we lived in Bromsgrove.

Looking east along the ha-ha to the Church of St Magdalene

We visited Stowe just the once, but there’s no doubt that it is one of the finest examples of so-called ‘natural’ gardening that flourished under Capability’s supervision.

The view from in front of the East Lake Pavilion across the Octagon Lake to Stowe House
Looking west down the Grecian Valley from the Fane of Pastoral Poetry
The Temple of Concord and Victory
The Palladian Bridge from the west
The Palladian Bridge
The Temple of Ancient Virtue taken from in front of the Temple of British Worthies

Steph is a very keen gardener, so our garden visits are always a pleasure. I guess Sissinghurst in Kent, designed by Vita Sackville-West and her husband, would be at the top of our list.

A close second has to be the Arts and Craft garden at Hidcote Manor on the northern edge of the Cotswolds, the inspiration of Lawrence Johnston. Since there are so many fine heritage gardens it almost seems unfair to choose just a couple.

Cragside, near Rothbury in Northumberland was the first house to be powered by hydroelectricity. Home of William, 1st Baron Armstrong (a wealthy engineer and industrialist, eminent scientist, inventor and philanthropist), Cragside has many other innovations throughout the house. And equally impressive, 150 years later, is the estate of trees from around the world that have now matured into such magnificent specimens.

National Trust Cragside
Cragside
Cragside

And while I’m on the topic of technology, I guess anyone has to be impressed by the industrial technology that led to the construction of the bridge across the River Severn at Ironbridge in Shropshire in 1779.

Also Thomas Telford’s suspension bridges at Conwy (below) and over the Menai Strait, both completed in 1826.

Over the years, I’ve become quite an aficionado of parterres that were popular design features at many country houses. My favorite is the one at Hanbury Hall in Worcestershire, which was the heritage property closest to our home when we lived in Bromsgrove, just seven miles. We’d often pop over to Hanbury for a walk in the parkland, and take a look at the parterre in all seasons. It certainly is a credit to the garden staff and volunteers who keep it in such fine shape.

A number of properties have literary links, and a couple were the homes of Nobel Literature Laureates. Of course, I’m referring to Rudyard Kipling at Bateman’s and Sir Winston Churchill at Chartwell.

The front door and garden (7)
The House (6) from the Rose Garden (12)
The Hall

Rudyard Kipling was named after the village of Rudyard in North Staffordshire, just a few miles from my home town of Leek. Kipling’s parents had met there.

Bateman’s is an elegant Jacobean mansion in the East Sussex countryside, acquired by Kipling in 1902 and remained the family home until his death in 1936. Our visit to Bateman’s in May 2019 inspired me to reach into Kipling’s novels, which I hadn’t before, and subsequently enjoyed.

I found visits to a couple of National Trust properties quite emotional, sufficient to bring tears to my eyes. In November 2018 I celebrated my 70th birthday, and Steph and I spent a long weekend in Liverpool, taking in The Beatles Childhood Homes of John Lennon and Paul McCartney.

When I was inside John Lennon’s home at ‘Mendips’, 251 Menlove Avenue in the Woolton suburb, I was suddenly overcome with a powerful emotion. Hard to explain, but I felt myself welling up. As a teenager in the 1960s, The Beatles were very much part of my formative years.

The other place where this has happened was at The Firs, the birthplace of that great English composer Sir Edward Elgar. We’d toured the cottage, looked round the small garden, then headed back to the fascinating museum. It was when we were watching a short documentary film about Elgar to the accompaniment of one of his most memorable compositions, Variation IX commonly known as Nimrod from the Enigma Variations, that I once again felt tears coming. Music can be such a powerful stimulus.

I wrote recently about a successful birding walk around the parkland and woods at Wallington in Northumberland. But there’s one site where the birding opportunities are out of this world. In the Farne Islands just off the Northumberland coast.

Puffins, with guillemots closer to the cliff edge.

Steph and I visited there in 1998, and have plans to revisit again this year. The islands have been closed to visits for the past couple of years because of bird flu that had seriously depleted some of the colonies. We also look forward to birding on the Suffolk coast at Orford Ness later this year.

All the heritage charities maintain an impressive portfolio of castles, some more complete than others. The northeast is particularly rich in castles. Many were reduced to ruins, or slighted, centuries ago following conflicts.

But if I had to choose a couple to put at the top of my list, they would be Caernarfon Castle, owned by Cadw, and which we visited last September during an enjoyable week’s holiday exploring North Wales, and Dover Castle, owned by English Heritage.

Caernarfon (below) is one of four castles built by King Edward I in the late 13th century.

Of the four (the others being Conwy, Beaumaris, and Harlech), Caernarfon is the most complete, and Cadw allows access to much of the castle. Although it was a grey day when we visited, there were relatively few other tourists and we easily had access to all parts.

Speaking of access, English Heritage has innovatively opened up Kenilworth Castle and Hardwick Old Hall (below) by constructing internal stairways and viewing platforms that just expand one’s appreciation of these buildings.

The Derbyshire landscape west of Hardwick Old Hall.
Looking down six floors in the Old Hall. And the magnificent plasterwork on the walls.

Of the many ruined abbeys and priories we have visited, Rievaulx Abbey in North Yorkshire stands out for me (closely followed by Fountains Abbey and Whitby Abbey). I guess it must be to do with Rievaulx’s location in the valley of the River Rye. The monks knew just where to build!

View of the Abbey from Rievaulx Terrace
View of the Abbey from Rievaulx Terrace
The Day Room
The Day Room
Tiers of gothic windows
Rievaulx Abbey

However, there is one church where worship is still celebrated today, and is quite outstanding. That has to be St Mary’s Church in the village of Kempley in Gloucestershire. The interior walls are decorated with beautiful frescoes.

St Michael and the Virgin.
The north wall with its paintings of the Wheel of Life, and those of St Anthony of Egypt and St Michael and the Virgin, either side of window.
Six of the 12 apostles on the north wall of the chancel., St Mary’s Kempley

The British landscape is blessed with the remains of ancient cultures going back thousands of years, from various standing stones (like Stonehenge and the Avebury Ring), ancient villages (Chysauster in Cornwall), and Iron Age settlements and hill forts.

Impressive as Stonehenge and Avebury are, there’s something about the Calanais Stones in the Isle of Lewis in the Outer Hebrides. I first came across these standing stones in the summer of 1967, and Steph and I visited them during our tour of Scotland in 2015.

Of all the Roman remains throughout these islands, Hadrian’s Wall (and all its associated forts and watchtowers) has to the number one attraction. And it’s on our doorstep.

Housesteads from the air (Source: English Heritage)
Underfloor heating at Chester’s Roman Fort (English Heritage)
Underfloor heating

In February 2022, on a bright but sunny day, we decided to walk a short length of the Wall, from Steel Rigg Car Park to Sycamore Gap (below). And we saw the iconic tree before it was maliciously felled in 2023.

Undoubtedly there are so many more properties to choose from, and I’m sure my choices won’t be to everyone’s taste. But the heritage is out there to explore and enjoy, and that’s what Steph and I will continue to do, come rain or shine.

 

by

Birding at Wallington

Over the past 12 months I have been afflicted by a bad back that has also affected my legs and mobility (finally—after an MRI scan last August—diagnosed as spinal stenosis). Consequently, I’ve not been walking quite as regularly as I used to. Well, not as far on each walk as I had enjoyed up until about March last year, and I’m still using a stick for support.

However, with medication and exercises, my condition has improved thank goodness, and I enjoy getting out and about again, trying for about 2 miles each time. But, when I’m feeling up to it, and the weather looks promising, it’s always a pleasure to enjoy a longer walk.

And that’s precisely why Steph and I headed out into Northumberland last Monday to the National Trust’s Wallington, just under 23 miles northwest from home, a drive of around 40 minutes depending on route and traffic. Even though the temperature was only around 6°C, it was bright and sunny, a gentle breeze, and there was some early Spring warmth in the sunshine.

Leaving home around 09:45, we arrived at Wallington before 10:30 and headed immediately to the café for a welcome cup of Americano. It was our intention to complete the River Walk through the grounds of Wallington (around 45 hectares or 111 acres) and along the upper reaches of the River Wansbeck (which rises 5 miles or so further west above Sweethope Lough).

The walk around the Wallington estate has been shut temporarily on several occasions in the past few years. Intense named storms have become a feature of our winters in recent years, and have brought down trees. The National Trust had to close paths until the fallen timber could be made safe.

The stepping stones over the Wansbeck were closed as one of the stones had been washed away, so we had to by-pass that section of the walk. The last time we tried to take the River Walk (in December 2020) we couldn’t cross because the river was in spate.

The walk was a little over three miles. Click on the special symbols in the map to see some of the birds seen at those points on the walk, or other landscape features we came across. And because Monday was such a fine day, I decided to take my binoculars in the hope of seeing some of the birdlife so common through Wallington’s woods and on its ponds.

Quite often I’ll leave my binoculars at home, and regret doing so after we catch sight of something interesting.

Along the path beside the Garden Pond, there’s a newly installed sculpture of an owl, carved from one of the downed trees, standing in open woodland (mainly of beech) but with lots of understorey bushes.

I had wondered if—and hoped—we’d see nuthatches (below) scurrying along the branches and picking out insects above our heads,

It’s a bird I’ve seen on only a few occasions, but that particular habitat was just right for nuthatches.

Then, a very small bird alighted on the branch just a few meters in front of me, and in full sunlight. I was fortunate to bring my binoculars to bear on this little bird, and I had a brief view before it flew off.

My immediate reaction was that it was a goldcrest, the smallest bird in the UK. But as it turned its head towards me, and the sun caught the feathers on its head, they appeared a much deeper reddish-orange rather than yellow. And its cheeks seemed whiter than I’d seen in a goldcrest. A firecrest was my next reaction.

I checked my bird books and online photographs when we arrived home. Although it seems that firecrests are quite uncommon in Northumberland, I’m now convinced—more than ever, and having compared images of a goldcrest and a firecrest side by side—that I saw a firecrest. Here are two images sent to me by my Northamptonshire friend, Barry Boswell (whose beautiful bird images I have used in other blog posts).

Goldcrest (L) and firecrest (R)

On the Garden Pond there was a small group of little grebes or dabchicks, several moorhens, and a flock of about 30 mallard ducks.

We walked through the walled garden, and enjoyed the crocus lawns at their best on the upper terrace, before heading through the gate that led to the River Walk path.

As I mentioned, we couldn’t cross the Wansbeck at the Stepping Stones, so had to walk along the road until we came to the fine 18th century hump-backed bridge, and then took the path alongside the river on its southern/western bank. Having left the road, we had a fine view of the bridge behind us.

Given the state of the river, with tranquil stretches interspersed with shallow rapids, I was hopeful that we might see a dipper or two.

And we weren’t disappointed. Just as we approached the footbridge, there was a solitary dipper sitting on a stone in mid-stream, preening itself. And taking no notice of us whatsoever, we had a great view for at least five minutes, before we crossed over the footbridge close by.

On the opposite bank there is an interesting piece of bespoke artwork depicting wolves, Nothing Exists Alone, which you can only appreciate fully from the right angle.

Click on this next image to read the description more easily.

Then we took the path away from the river and climbed towards the thick woodland on the brow of the hill (with a great view of a wren at the side of the path), ending up at the wildlife hide.

Wren

There was a range of bird feeders there, attracting a range of tit species (great, blue, coal, and long-tailed) and some chaffinches.

Making our way back to the house, we saw another nuthatch in one of the large trees, and a pair of beautiful teal ducks on the Middle Pond.

Then, as we were making our way back to the car park, we saw a large flock of chaffinches on the bird feeders close to the entrance drive, one of the largest flocks I’ve seen in a long while.

Of course these weren’t the only birds that caught our attention as we wandered round the River Walk. There were numerous blackbirds and robins, as well as crows and jackdaws in the fields.

But this Wallington walk will be remembered for that flash of reddish-orange early on. I wonder if others have spotted a firecrest there as well?

 

by

The wonder of Cambodia’s temples

You’ve probably never heard of Jayavarman VII (right).

Born around 1122/25, he is widely regarded as one of the most powerful of Khmer monarchs, and ruled the vast Khmer Empire between 1181 and 1218. He was the first Khmer king to fully embrace Buddhism (earlier kings had been Hindu).

The empire was founded at the beginning of the 9th century, and at its zenith in the 12th century had subjugated much of Southeast Asia. By the middle of the 15th century however it had disappeared. All the temples and surrounding buildings were reclaimed by the jungle, and not uncovered again until the 19th century, mainly by French archaeologists. Archaeology is thriving in Cambodia today, and new discoveries are being made.

Southeast Asia circa 900 CE, showing the Khmer Empire in red.

At the heart of the empire was the capital, Angkor, with its principal temple Angkor Wat, now one of the most visited heritage sites worldwide. Angkor Wat features on the national flag of Cambodia.

Steph and I (with our younger daughter Philippa) had the privilege of visiting Angkor Wat in December 2000.

Angkor Wat was actually built by Suryavarman II (ruled 1113– c.1150) as a Hindu temple, and took almost 30 years to construct. Under Jayavarman II, it gradually became a Buddhist one. The king was also responsible for one of the most beautiful temples, Bayon (below), at Angkor.

And he established an impressive network of more than 100 hospitals throughout his empire, and other temples and cities that are now only being intensively studied in the northwest of Cambodia close to the frontier with Thailand.

Last Saturday Steph and I watched (on Channel 4) the third and final part of Lost Temples of Cambodia, fronted by British archaeologist Pauline Carroll (about whom I can find no information other than she worked on the dig in Leicester that discovered the remains of King Richard III in 2012). Click on the image below to access each of the programs.

Filmed at Angkor Wat and other close-by sites, the programs also explored newly-discovered sites to the north west close to the frontier with Thailand. And, as with Angkor Wat, the temples at Banteay Chhmar (and another recently-discovered a short distance away at Banteay Toap) are revealing much about the king who built them.

As we watched the programs, it was hard not to pinch ourselves that we had been so lucky to have visited Angkor Wat before it became overrun with tourists. We had flown to Siem Reap from the Philippines (where I was working at the International Rice Research Institute) via Singapore on Silk Air, and spent three nights there. Which gave us two full days to explore the many Angkor sites and take a boat ride on the large lake nearby, the Tonlé Sap.

Just click on each of the icons on the Angkor map below to explore a photo album for each, and zoom out to see the location of other sites in the northwest of Cambodia that were featured in the Channel 4 programs.

We didn’t join any tour to explore Angkor. Through one of my IRRI colleagues based in Phnom Penh we arranged for a driver to pick us up at the airport, and then stay with us over the next two and a half days. Once we had toured one of the sites, the driver quickly whisked us off to the next, finding the best locations to start from. Such as at Banteay Kdei (photo album), where he dropped us at one entrance, and picking us up on the far side of the site once we had walked through at our own pace, and not one dictated by any tour guide.

Even at Angkor Wat itself it’s quite remarkable how many photos I was able to take with only a smattering (if any) of other tourists (photo album).

As we watched the TV programs, it brought back to us how beautiful are the many bas-reliefs and stone carvings in general through the Angkor complex. Absolutely exquisite! And to some extent, those at Banteay Chhmar and Banteay Toap (more recent than Angkor Wat although constructed by Jayavarman II) are even finer.

Here is just a small selection of those we saw.

Taking the Angkor complex in total (and the many other sites across Cambodia) the construction of temples and other buildings would have required millions of tons of sandstone that had to be quarried some distance away and transported to the sites.

The stone came from Phnom Kulen, a range of hills to the northeast of Angkor Wat by about 30 miles. A series of canals was constructed to float the millions of stone blocks to the construction sites, on rafts pulled by elephants. Evidence for the canals was first gleaned from satellite images, and verified at ground level.

The construction must have involved a very large population. It has been estimated that perhaps as many 1 million people lived at Angkor, making it one of the largest cities in the ancient world. And they would have to be fed. But on what? Rice, of course, and that crop remains the staple in Cambodia today, thriving in the hot humid lowland climate, even in seasonally deep-water sites.

Eventually the Khmer Empire declined. Was it due to overpopulation, climate change affecting agricultural productivity, or warfare both internal and foreign? Certainly the Khmer faced threats and invasion from Thailand and Vietnam. Probably it was a combination of many factors.

But as new sites are discovered and recovered from the jungle, the history of this once thriving empire is being revealed in ever more detail.

There were a few things that caught my attention in the three program series on Channel 4.

I mentioned that Pauline Carroll was an unknown entity before now. And yet, she didn’t ‘front’ the series in quite the way you might expect in such programs. There was a background narrative, from restaurateur and presenter of The Great British Bake Off, Prue Leith. What a strange choice as narrator! Instead, Pauline Carroll was left to wander around the various sites, ask a few questions of local archaeologists, and occasionally speak to camera.

Second, as with many documentary programs nowadays, considerable use was made of drones to capture aerial shots, which certainly enhanced appreciation of the scope and scale of Angkor Wat and the other sites. In the past, such aerial photography would have required helicopters, but even low-cost drones can provide high quality output, and reaching areas inaccessible to helicopters.

And the final point I would like to make is about the healthy state, it seems, of Cambodian archaeology. Pauline Carroll met and spoke with several knowledgeable Cambodian archaeologists who have taken on the role of revealing their nation’s cultural history. And this is even more remarkable and encouraging considering it’s not that many decades since the appalling Cambodian genocide perpetrated by the murderous regime of Pol Pot in the 1970s, when millions of lives were sacrificed, particularly from the intelligentsia.

 

by

Landmarks across the northeast

Across Tyneside, there are several impressive landmarks that no visitor to the region—by land, sea, or air—can fail to miss. All are just a few miles from where we are now living in North Tyneside (since October 2020).

Perhaps the most visible is the River Tyne itself, along whose banks the settlements of Newcastle upon Tyne (on the north) and Gateshead on the south were founded. Actually the River Tyne is two rivers. The North Tyne rises in the hills on the Scottish border, whereas the source of the South Tyne is in Cumbria. The two branches come together near Hexham, 20 miles due west from Newcastle city center.

Newcastle and Gateshead rise steeply away from the Tyne, and are connected by several road and rail bridges, including the iconic Tyne Bridge, opened in 1928 and undergoing a much-needed renovation, hopefully in time for its centenary in 2028.

There is a much more recent footbridge, the Gateshead Millennium Bridge, opened in 2001. Further east, the A19 trunk road crosses under the Tyne in the Tyne Tunnel between Wallsend and Jarrow.

There has been a long history of settlement along the river’s banks. The Romans built a garrison and supply base, Arbeia, near the mouth of the river on its south bank. Hadrian’s Wall begins its journey westwards from Wallsend, at Segedunum fort, just a few miles upstream from Arbeia, but on the north bank.

Arbeia, a Roman fort and supply base, built around 129 AD.

There was a long history of heavy industry along the Tyne, with the port developed for the export of coal from the many collieries in the area, as well as shipbuilding. Indeed, Newcastle was one of the leading shipbuilding cities in the country. All now long closed down.

Of course the mouth of the River Tyne looks very different now than when the Romans arrived. Today, there are piers on both sides of the river mouth. The north or Tynemouth pier (shown below, with a lighthouse at the seaward end), 900 m long (and open to the public during clement weather), took 40 years to build. The south pier is longer, and also took around 40 years to build.

Tynemouth Lighthouse and the entrance to the River Tyne from Tynemouth Priory.

If you fly into Newcastle International Airport, and the wind is blowing from the west, the usual flight path takes aircraft over the mouth of the River Tyne, before banking north. If you are lucky, there are some great views of the city and river.

Just beyond the Tyne, on the left, is St Mary’s Lighthouse (decommissioned since 1984) on its island, just south of Seaton Sluice. Just north of the lighthouse, aircraft then bank left and line up for landing at the airport nine miles west-southwest from the coast.

The view of St Mary’s Lighthouse from Old Hartley.

Just inside the mouth of the Tyne, and standing on the north bank below Tynemouth castle and priory, is the magnificent memorial statue of Vice Admiral of the Red, Lord Cuthbert Collingwood (1748-1810) whose flagship HMS Royal Sovereign was the first British ship to engage with the combined French and Spanish fleets at the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805. The statue of Collingwood is 23 feet or 7 m tall. The four canons either side of the steps come from HMS Royal Sovereign.

It must be seen many miles out to sea. And although we had seen it from Tynemouth castle and priory on previous visits to the town, it wasn’t until Monday afternoon past that we got to see it up close.

The mouth of the River Tyne, with the Collingwood Monument on the right.
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Cuthbert_Collingwood,_Baron_Collingwood_by_Henry_Howard.jpg

We took the path west along the river towards North Shields Fish Quay (about 1 mile), and came across a rather lovely statue (in steel), the Fiddler’s Green Sculpture by Ray Lonsdale from County Durham, that was erected in 2017. It is is a memorial to North Shields fishermen lost at sea. It was based on a photograph of a local fisherman.

Below the statue is a plaque that reads:

To the fishermen lost in the cold North Sea,
and the ones who will be so,
I’ll be seeing you all on Fiddler’s Green,
be steady as you go.

For Fiddler’s Green is a place I’ve heard tell,
though no one really knows,
where the fishermen go if they don’t go to hell,
and no Arctic wind will blow.

Fiddler’s Green is an imaginary paradise to which sailors are conveyed after death, traditionally a place of wine, women, and song. And here is the 19th century Irish song (and the lyrics), performed by The Dubliners.

Arriving to Tyneside from the south by road, on the A1, a huge sculpture suddenly comes into view on the outskirts of Gateshead. This is the iconic Angel of the North, by Sir Antony Gormley, which was erected in 1998.

We took a close look at it in November 2018, but have not been back since we moved to the northeast.

My final landmark is Grey’s Monument in Newcastle city center. If you travel there by Metro, you are immediately confronted by the 133 foot (41 m) column as you emerge from Monument station.

Charles Grey, 2nd Earl Grey

It was erected in 1831 in recognition of Charles Grey, 2nd Earl Grey, [of supposed Earl Grey tea fame] Prime Minister of the United Kingdom from 1830 to 1834. In particular, it celebrates the passing of the Great Reform Act of 1832, one of Grey’s most important legislative achievements. The act reorganised the system of parliamentary constituencies and increased the number of those eligible to vote.

It certainly dominates the Newcastle skyline. Open to visitors, there are 164 steps to climb to the viewing platform. The views south from the top must be spectacular over Newcastle’s impressive Georgian architecture on Grey Street and Grainger Street, but that’s not something I’m likely to challenge.

Tyneside and so much of the surrounding region has so much to offer any visitor. English Heritage and the National Trust own a number of properties close by, and further out there is the magnificent coastline of Northumberland and County Durham, as well as the moors and hills stretching westwards to the Scottish border and into Cumbria.

 

by

Klaus Lampe, IRRI’s fifth Director General, passes away at 92

Dr Klaus J Lampe was the Director General of the International Rice Research Institute (IRRI) in the Philippines, serving one term from 1988 to 1995. He succeeded Professor MS Swaminathan as Director General.

Yesterday we heard the sad news that he had passed away in hospital in Germany on 6 February, aged 92.

Born in Freiburg in 1931, Klaus Lampe grew up in Nazi Germany, and he once described to me the horror of escaping the fire storm following Allied bombing.

He was an agricultural engineer, spending time in Afghanistan from 1965 to 1968, and thereafter he held various agricultural development aid positions back home in West Germany.

His appointment at IRRI in 1988 was the beginning of the institute’s renewal. Just shy of its 30th anniversary the institute was beginning to show its age. Its infrastructure was in dire need of refurbishment and enlargement to allow the institute to address several new research challenges, particularly in the areas of biotechnology and molecular biology.

And with a mandate to revitalise IRRI’s research strategy and program, Klaus adopted a matrix management system (alluded to in this post) with five research programs setting the specific research agenda on one side of the matrix and divisions (the organizational units where research was carried out) on the other.

He encouraged several long-term staff to retire or seek pastures new, and set about recruiting a new (and younger) cohort of staff. I was part of that recruitment, as head of the newly-formed Genetic Resources Center (GRC), with special responsibility for the genebank.

Meeting Dr Lampe and his wife, Annemarie, at an IRRI reception shortly after my arrival at IRRI in July 1991.

In addition to the innovative management that brought focus to IRRI’s research and refurbishment of the institute’s buildings, Klaus’s other achievements included his sincere engagement (not always successful) with suspicious NGOs in the Philippines and more widely across Asia as IRRI developed its biotechnology agenda (supported by the Rockefeller Foundation), and the adoption of new rice breeding objectives, particularly the so-called New Plant Type and hybrid rice. Certainly IRRI began to feel like a re-energised institute.

Klaus Lampe with US Ambassador to the Philippines, Frank G Wisner, Gurdev Khush, principal plant breeder, and agronomist Ken Cassman, discussing the ‘New Plant Type’.

When I interviewed for the GRC position (in January 1991), Klaus and I had a long discussion about the changes that he felt were needed to upgrade the genebank, known then as the International Rice Germplasm Center (IRGC), and how to integrate the operations of the International Network for Genetic Evaluation of Rice (INGER) and the Seed Health Unit into GRC. By the time of my arrival in Los Baños, it had been decided to retain the Seed Health Unit as an independent entity outside GRC.

I explained how important research on germplasm conservation and use was, and that I expected, if appointed, to add a research string to the activities of GRC. That had not been envisaged when IRRI advertised the GRC position in September 1990.

Once in post, Klaus supported my research plans for the genebank. I also pushed enthusiastically that the genebank should benefit substantially from the investment being made in the refurbishment around the institute. After all, I chided him, if the genebank was the jewel in IRRI’s crown, so to speak, it was only fair that management and Board of Trustees approved that investment. And he agreed.

We made major changes, adding a bespoke seed drying room, and reconfiguring many of the genebank facilities to increase the efficiency of genebank operations and bring them up to international standards. I was permitted to increase the number of staff to tackle the significant backlog of processing seeds for long-term conservation. And the majority of the staff positions were upgraded to reflect their increased responsibilities.

With Klaus’s support and commitment I was able to significantly enhance the genebank operations such that, in an external review around 1994, the genebank was described as a model for others to emulate. And for that I will remain forever grateful to him.

I had first come across Klaus Lampe in the summer of 1989 (maybe 1990). I was lecturing at the University of Birmingham, and had no intention then (or inkling even) of leaving, or that Klaus would  soon be my boss.

I was visiting Dr Jaap Hardon, head of the Dutch genebank (Centre for Genetic Resources, the Netherlands or CGN) in Wageningen. He invited me to attend a special university seminar one afternoon with guest speakers from two centers of the Consultative Group on International Agriculture or CGIAR: the Director General (I don’t remember his name) of the International Food Policy Research Institute (IFPRI) in Washington, DC, and Dr Klaus Lampe from IRRI.

Klaus was not a tall man, but he certainly stood out in a crowd, with his long flowing grey hair. Which reminds me of a story that former Chair of IRRI’s Board of Trustees, Dr Walter ‘Wally’ P Falcon recounted during his last report to the institute’s staff before he stepped down from the Board in the early 1990s.

Klaus and Wally Falcon at a meeting of IRRI’s Board of Trustees.

Although a member of the Board of Trustees when Klaus was appointed as Director General, Wally was not a member of the appointment committee, and did not meet Klaus until the next Board meeting. As Wally told it, he saw this man walking towards him, hair standing out, and he immediately thought, My God, they’ve appointed Beethoven!

Klaus, always supported by Annemarie (who predeceased him a few years back) encouraged visitors to IRRI, especially VIPs, and he was never short of a few words to say at the frequent receptions held at the IRRI Guest House.

Klaus and Annemarie at the despedida for Dr Ernie Nunn, IRRI’s Director for Operations and his wife (next to Annemarie).

One of the first VIP visitors I had to show around the genebank was Princess Sirindhorn of Thailand, in 1991, not long after I arrived in Los Baños.


One of my colleagues, Dr Bob Zeigler, a plant pathologist from CIAT in Colombia was appointed Program Leader for Rainfed Lowland Rice at the end of 1991. Bob became IRRI’s 9th Director General in 2005.

DG5 and DG9 together in 1991.

Klaus was a complex man. Exceedingly kind on the one hand, but he could be quite ruthless, and a number of staff fell foul of his displeasure, me included. So when he left IRRI in 1995, we didn’t exactly part the best of friends, although for much of the time we worked together, I had an excellent relationship with him.

I didn’t meet him again until early 2010 when he returned to IRRI to attend some of the institute’s 50th anniversary celebrations. I can’t say I was particularly keen to meet him again. But we did, and during one reception he approached me, taking me by the arm and steering me to a quiet corner of the room. Whereupon he apologized for how he had behaved towards me 15 years previously. We parted on good terms, and that’s exactly how I will remember him.

My former colleague Gene Hettel interviewed Klaus for his series of Pioneer Interviews, who spoke at length on the challenges he saw IRRI facing. Here’s a snippet from that interview.

Gene has also today published this obituary on the IRRI website.

 

by

Let the mystery be . . .

Until quite recently, I’d never heard of American singer-songwriter Iris DeMent. I’ve since become quite obsessed with her music. She has quite an extraordinary voice, and a rare song-writing talent.

One evening, Steph and I were watching a compilation of programs from Transatlantic Sessions (on BBC Scotland via the BBC IPlayer), and Iris DeMent was featured from Series 1, Program 3, first broadcast in 1995.

Singing one of her own compositions, Let the Mystery Be, she was accompanied by members of the Transatlantic Sessions house band: American fiddle player Jay Ungar (composer of the well-known Ashokan Farewell), guitarist Russ Barenberg, mandola player Dónal Lunny, and accordionist Phil Cunningham. I believe the female bassist was Molly Mason.

She appeared on Transatlantic Sessions in the very first program (and the first featured performance) accompanying Emmylou Harris (whose music I came to appreciate in her collaboration with Mark Knopfler on the 2006 album, All the Roadrunning) on Wheels of Love, along with Irish singer Mary Black.

DeMent was born in 1961 in Paragould in northeast Arkansas, the youngest of 14 children, and now lives in rural southeast Iowa. Her music is a blend of folk, country, and gospel, often with a political theme. She has often dueted with folk-country singer-songwriter John Prine.

In Transatlantic Sessions Series 1, Program 4 DeMent sang one of her best compositions, Our Town, about one of her enduring themes: small-town America. Shetland fiddle virtuoso Aly Bain also figures in this version, as does a young dobro player Jerry Douglas (who would go on to co-host Transatlantic Sessions with Aly Bain in Series 2 to 6 between 1998 and 2013).

Here is another great song from Series 1, Program 6.

I did wonder whether DeMent had ever appeared on Garrison Keillor’s A Prairie Home Companion, from the Fitzgerald Theater in St Paul, Minnesota, believing that her music was just the genre to feature in the show. I found this reference to an appearance from 2 November 2002. You can hear her singing at 14′:22″ and another composition, Mama’s Opry, at 51′:42″. Garrison Keillor said that DeMent was one of his favorite singers, whose songs he had performed many times.

Here is DeMent singing Mama’s Opry with the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band and Matraca Berg (performed at the Grand Ole Opry?)

So what about Transatlantic Sessions? In my opinion, it was one of the best series to be broadcast from BBC Scotland. And as Aly Bain says by way of introduction, it brought together ‘. . . some of the best musicians from both sides of the Atlantic. No audience. Just the music‘.

We came late to the series, seeing Series 5 and 6 in 2011 and 2013 respectively, the previous four having been broadcast while we were living in the Philippines during the 1990s and 2000s. But since then, BBC Scotland has rebroadcast some compilations, hosted by North Uist singer Julie Fowlis and Irish singer Muireann Nic Amhlaoibh.

What a delight the programs were, and such talent on display – the best of Scottish, Irish and American music. Here’s a link to many of the videos from all six series. Enjoy!

 

by

“One must be willing to release one’s mind and soul from one’s body to achieve ecstasy through music” (Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan)

As I wrote way back in February 2012 not long after I launched this blog, I have broad tastes in music: rock, pop, folk, country & western, classical (particularly Baroque and Chopin). There’s always music in our house, all hours of the day. And my listening experience has improved since I added an Echo Dot 5th generation to my office at Christmas.

Anyway, I was looking through my CD collection the other day (yes, I still hold on to more than 200 CDs although I play them much less frequently now since having access to streaming services like Spotify), and came across one that that took me right back to the 1980s.

I don’t remember why I happened to be home alone on that particular weekend afternoon. I’d switched on the TV and was surfing the small number of channels available then. I came across a program on the BBC aimed at its Asian audience. It was a concert by qawwali virtuoso Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan from Pakistan.

Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan (1948-1997)

And only intending to check what was on each channel, I became immediately mesmerised by his performance with his backing singers, and watched the whole program.

One song in particular, Yeh Jo Halka Halka, caught my attention. It lasted over 18 minutes!

Here is that song, recorded in Birmingham in 1985:

And this is the version from the CD:

This is the English translation. Just click on the image for an enlarged version.

It made quite an impression on me, and I find myself returning to it from time-to-time.

Suffering from ill health (he weighed over 300 pounds or 137 kg) he travelled to London for treatment in August 1997, but suffered cardiac arrest just after arriving in the country.

His legacy is continued by family members.

 

by

I’m a ‘glass half-full’ sort of person, but . . .

I’m an optimist. I like to keep a positive perspective and get on with my life with a sunny disposition.

But as we approach the end of January, the level in my glass has started to fall. Notwithstanding the appalling situations in Ukraine and the Middle East and the real possibility of a serious escalation of conflict, closer to home there’s definitely a feeling of malaise in the UK right now.

After 14 years of Conservative government, I think Shakespeare’s  ‘something is rotten in the state of Denmark’ (Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 4) sums it up appropriately. Something has gone wrong very badly.

Just compare how Labour left the nation in 2010 when David Cameron led the Tories to victory in the General Election (propped up by the Liberal Democrats in coalition), to what the situation is currently under Rishi Sunak, or as I prefer to refer to him as ‘Rish! Pipsqueak‘ (the fifth Prime Minister since 2010).

Prime Ministers since 2010, clockwise from top left: Cameron, May, Johnson, Sunak, and Truss.

It began with an austerity package from which we have yet to recover, and from what I read just a few days ago, the justification for austerity measures was based on a flawed paper by two economists.

British mathematician Professor Hannah Fry spoke about this on her Instagram account, fryrsquared, and wrote: Just after the financial crisis, an influential paper called “Growth in a time of debt” was published, in which two Harvard profs used data to show that high levels of debt hurt a nations economic growth. The paper was cited at the G20, referenced by George Osborne and Paul Ryan and used as a justification for the global austerity movement. Except the conclusions were based on a pretty important spreadsheet error.

Then, the outright Conservative win in the 2015 General Election gave David Cameron the opportunity to hold the Brexit Referendum, and the country has been on the downward path ever since. Just see what the UK has lost as a result [1].

Theresa May replaced Cameron after he lost the Brexit referendum, and she in turn was ousted by clown Boris Johnson. Liz Truss lasted just 50 days (the shortest-serving Prime Minister in British history) after Johnson departed in ignominy, when she almost crashed the economy with her Chancellor of the Exchequer, Kwasi Kwarteng.

When Rishi Sunak  (the first Prime Minister of Asian origin) replaced Truss (he had been Johnson’s Chancellor) I was not hopeful of much improvement in how the Tories governed, but at least he wasn’t Johnson or Truss.

But what a thin-skinned petty individual he has turned out to be. As vacuous as the rest of his party. I’m tempted to throw something at the TV the next time he says that what the government is doing is ‘the will of the British people’. He says there’s no appetite right now for a General Election (even though one must be held by the end of the year) yet the polls indicate otherwise. And the polls also show a majority (at around 60%) in favour of re-joining the European Union.

Then there’s the government handling of the immigration and its flawed Rwanda asylum plan to relocate those seeking to settle in the UK but cross the English Channel (La Manche) in small boats. Taxes are at their highest levels, the high cost of living has driven even more people into poverty, and Covid-19 inquiry that is revealing incompetence at the highest levels of government, corruption even, during the pandemic, and the appalling Post Office scandal that has blighted the lives of hundreds of sub-postmasters and postmistresses.

With Labour leading in the polls with a comfortable margin over the Tories, let’s hope that the General Election (whenever it’s called) brings the result so many desire. Oust the Tories and bring in a government that cares about this nation’s citizens, not just the privileged. Let’s wipe them out.

The prospect of Sir Keir Starmer (leader of the Labour Party) as the next Prime Minister doesn’t excite me particularly, but he will be a damn sight better than anyone the Conservative Party can offer up. But he does have, as far as I can tell, some competent colleagues around him. At least they’re not Tories.

What fills me with trepidation, however, is the real possibility that Donald Trump will regain the White House in November.

Once a cockwomble, always a cockwomble, as I wrote in June 2020.

I know we have more than enough shyster politicians here in the UK, but Trump takes the biscuit. Indicted 91 times, found guilty of rape, defamation, ordered to pay millions, and more trials pending, it’s hard to understand just why his MAGA following worships him. I’m sure he has absolutely no regard for those folks whatsoever.

And many of those around him in the Republican party have seemingly offered up their souls on the altar of Trump. Extraordinary!

A second Trump presidency does not bode well for the future, not for the USA where he’s already stated that he’ll be out for revenge, nor for the rest of the world.

I believe that Biden will win the popular vote, but could well lose the Electoral College. It could well be the same handful of states that push Trump over the line with EC votes. But if he loses – again – no doubt there will be more unrest as he once again claims fraud. He’s already laying the grounds for that eventuality.

The divisions in US society are going to be hard to heal. And does Trump care? Not one jot, as long as he benefits. What have we come to?

I can only wish/hope that he simply disappears off the scene.

[1] Edwin Hayward, author (of Slaying Brexit Unicorns) and political commentator, just published on his X feed (@edwinhayward) a list of 88 examples that Brexit has taken from us all, and which he states we might stand to gain again if we were to ever re-join the EU, subject of course to the agreement of existing members.

It makes depressing reading.

  • Full unfettered access to the largest trading bloc in the world. Not merely no tariffs, but no non-tariff barriers either. Bristol, Berlin or Barcelona all equally accessible. Sling your goods into a van, and go. No queues, no reams of paperwork.
  • Free trade deals with over 70 countries around the world, including Japan, Canada, South Korea, New Zealand and soon the Mercosur bloc in South America.
  • Frictionless borders (no more nasty queues) allowing for just-in-time manufacturing, and supporting millions of jobs in the auto industry, aerospace etc.
  • Wide open borders between Northern Ireland and Ireland, and between NI and GB, with no customs checks or extra paperwork needed.
  • Support for the Good Friday Agreement and the Irish peace process (NI benefitted from over 1.5 billion euro of PEACE funding from the EU between 1995 and 2020).
  • A stronger united front against the dangers of the modern world, such as a resurgent Russia. (Friends don’t tend to fight friends; this striving for peace was one of the founding impulses behind the precursor to the EU.)
  • Freedom for UK citizens to travel, work, study and retire anywhere in the EU. No more long queues at airports and ports. No more worries about keeping track of 90 days in every 180. No more worries around business travel. (Also solves the problems bands and musicians are experiencing when trying to tour since Brexit.)
  • Freedom for EU citizens to travel, work, study and retire in the UK.
  • Participation in the EU Single Energy Market, enhancing the resilience of our energy supply.
  • Intense scientific and academic collaboration, including access to grants, and knowledge pooling. Participation in Horizon 2020’s successor programme (Horizon 2020 was the world’s largest multinational research programme, and provided funding and assistance for over 10,000 collaborative research projects in the UK.)
  • Collaborative space exploration, and participation in the Galileo GPS satellite cluster, including access to its high quality military signal.
  • Driving licenses valid all over the EU. No need for international driving permits, or to carry an insurance green card. Car insurance valid all over the EU.
  • Multi-year pet passports which make travel with pets easy and cheap.
  • A simple, generous system of fixed compensation for flight delays and cancellations thanks to EU passenger rights.
  • European Health Insurance Card (EHIC) that grants access to healthcare in the EU free or at reduced cost, plus prescriptions at local rates.
  • EU-wide roaming (voice, texts and data) at home rates. No surcharges like the majority of mobile carriers have imposed since Brexit.
  • Access to your home content on streaming services (Netflix, Amazon Video, Spotify etc.) wherever you travel in the EU.
  • Participation in Erasmus student exchange programme, involving more than 4000 universities across 31 countries. In the past, more than 15,000 UK students a year took advantage of this.
  • Study in EU universities at cheaper local rates.
  • Enhanced consumer protections, including protections on cross-border shopping (i.e. ordering online from the EU and/or EU customers ordering from the UK).
  • Simplified VAT filing for firms selling to EU customers.
  • Cross-border tax collaboration, aimed at holding massive firms like Amazon and Facebook to account more than any one country acting alone could hope to.
  • Training courses for the unemployed, funded from the European Social Fund.
  • Disaster relief funding, such as the 60 million euro the UK received for flood relief in 2017.
  • Access to a court of last resort (the ECJ) that provides EU citizens with a means of holding their government to account.
  • Significant environmental protections (which act as a floor rather than a ceiling, i.e. individual EU members can’t diverge below EU standards, but can enhance them further).
  • Quicker access to safe/new medicines, thanks to a one-stop pan-EU medical testing regime.
  • A single system of chemical regulation (REACH) to improve human, animal and environmental safety around chemicals. (Since Brexit, firms have to register chemicals in parallel with both REACH and UK REACH if they want to sell to the UK and EU markets, adding cost and complexity to the process.)
  • Cooperation on security issues, and access to shared crime and terrorism databases.
  • Participation in the European arrest warrant, allowing for the speedy capture and extradition of criminals.
  • Participation in the EURATOM programme to ensure the ongoing availability of vital medical isotopes, including very short half-life radiologicals.
  • Financial support for rural areas (too long ignored by successive UK governments).
  • Better food labelling regulations, including from April 2020 the requirement to identify the country of origin of the primary ingredient in processed food, as well as the country of manufacture of the finished product.
  • EU funding to support the British film industry, theatre and music.
  • Free movement for musicians and instruments, bands and equipment, artists and materials etc., enabling a flourishing European culture scene.
  • Participation in the European Capital of Culture programme, which has previously given a boost to cities such as Glasgow and Liverpool.
  • The ability for service providers (e.g. freelance translators) to offer their services all over the EU on the same basis as to UK clients.
  • EU citizenship. It’s a real thing, separate to UK citizenship, and conveys certain additional rights and protections. All citizens of individual EU countries are also EU citizens, by virtue of their citizenship of an EU member state.
  • No additional VAT or duty payable on goods imported from the EU (so no unpleasant surprises when receiving packages purchased online).
  • Substantial venture capital funding, and access to start-up loans.
  • Legal protection of minority languages (e.g. Welsh).
  • Mutual recognition of academic and many professional qualifications, meaning anyone qualified in the UK or in an EU country can rely on their qualification anywhere within the EU.
  • EU-wide protection of foods of geographic origin (e.g. Melton Mowbray pork pies can only be made in Melton Mowbray). Since Brexit, a dual regime operates, so producers have to seek protection in the UK and separately in the EU, introducing new cost and complexity to the process.
  • No surcharges on credit card and debit card transactions (illegal under EU law). Since Brexit, UK customers have been subject to additional charges when purchasing from the EU (May be hidden by vendors, but still act to drive costs up).
  • EU structural funding (e.g. Liverpool received £2 billion for regeneration in the past) including the requirement to raise matched funds in order to boost effectiveness further.
  • Support for and encouragement of democracy in post-Communist countries.
  • A bigger presence on the world stage when facing economic giants such as the USA and China (the EU as a whole is a worthy third opponent in that triangular fight, and would be more so were the UK to ever re-join).
  • Products made or grown in the UK can be sold in over 30 countries without needing type approval, phytosanitary certificates or other costly red tape. (These are some of the processes UK exporters have faced since Brexit, driving up costs and extending delivery times.)
  • Strong legally enforced food hygiene standards, including prohibitions on chlorinated chicken, hormone-raddled beef, and GM crops. (Like the EU’s environmental protections, these are a floor not a ceiling. Individual EU states can go further. They just can’t erode their own standards below the EU minimum.)
  • Objective 1 funding for deprived areas and regions.
  • Financial passporting, allowing firms in the City of London to service clients all over the EU without having a local presence.
  • A legally enforced 14-day cooling off period on new timeshare agreements.
  • Mandatory minimum 2-year warranty period against goods being faulty.
  • Consular protection in countries outside the EU available from any EU embassy or consulate (if there’s no UK embassy present in the country).
  • Protection against discriminatory treatment when working in other EU countries: all EU staff from across the EU must be treated the same as local staff.
  • A secure baseline of worker protections, including limits on maximum hours worked, maternity leave periods etc. (We’re free to improve on them as much as we like, we just can’t erode local conditions below the EU minimums. Indeed, in many cases the UK has already gone further than EU law required. But there would be no danger of losing rights conferred by the EU, no matter what the UK government of the day decided.)
  • Minimum of 4 weeks of paid leave a year (introduced by EU in 1993, taken up by UK in 1998, and later extended to 28 days in 2009).
  • Right to land fish in any EU port (EU countries used to buy more than half of all fish caught by UK fishermen before Brexit), along with an easy process for declaring catches.
  • Access to a willing seasonal workforce to pick our fruit and vegetables (rather than heart-breaking scenes of millions of pounds of crops rotting in British fields during the cost of living crisis).
  • Guaranteed supply of medicines (we import over 30 million packs a month from the EU).
  • A major say in the running of the EU, with MEPs representing the UK in the European Parliament, British judges on the ECJ panel, etc. And of course the right to propose and amend new EU legislation.
  • A say in the setting of the multi-year EU budget, and on steering the EU’s priorities and its focus.
  • More influence on environmental issues, since EU law governs the behaviour of 27 countries.
  • Cleaner air, backed by the EU Air Quality Directive. In the past, the EU has successfully taken the UK Government to court for failing to meet its obligations. (The system’s not perfect, but it provides a lot more protection than our post-Brexit homegrown one claims to.)
  • Strong pan-EU intellectual property protection, including potential participation in the upcoming unified patent system which will enable firms to obtain a single patent valid across 24 (at first) EU countries.
  • Some of the highest toy safety standards in the world.
  • Protection of 500 bird species under legislation dating back to 1979, and enhanced in 2009.
  • Cleaner beaches, with stronger penalties for untreated sewage discharges than the toothless post-Brexit system.
  • Pan-EU regulators (food, chemicals etc.) that offer simplified testing regimes, since a single test is valid for all EU countries. Since Brexit, the UK has had to duplicate these functions locally, adding cost and complexity.
  • A more powerful presence on the world stage, thanks to 27 countries acting in unison. Not all the time or on all matters. But when it counted most, EU countries have shown a willingness to set aside differences and band together.
  • The right to vote (and stand as a candidate) in local and European elections in any EU country you happen to live in, under the same conditions as local candidates and local electors.
  • Right to communicate with EU institutions in any of 24 official languages.
  • The right to petition the European Parliament, either singly or jointly with others, on any matter within the EU’s fields of activity. This right extends to companies headquartered in EU countries, as well as to individuals.
  • Support for people with disabilities, including the European accessibility act (which mandates the accessibility requirements of various products and services) and the EU parking card.
  • The right to purchase services (e.g. hotel bookings, car rentals) online from anywhere in the EU at the same price as local buyers. Firms cannot discriminate their pricing by geography.
  • Ability to bring home anything you buy in another EU country without a customs declaration, so long as it is for your own personal use. (Think booze cruises, for one.)
  • Right to cancel and return the order of any product bought outside of a shop (e.g. online or by telephone) within 14 days, for any reason.
  • Strong data protection laws such as GDPR, that protect personal data maintained in any format (online, on paper, etc.) Include right to withdraw your consent for the processing of your data, and right to object to receiving direct marketing. Even firms based outside of the EU must abide by GDPR rules when processing the information of EU citizens.
  • Right to know what personal data a firm holds on you, within a month of requesting it. Info should be free of charge and in accessible format.
  • Strong right to be forgotten, obliging organisations to delete the personal data they have stored about you upon request.
  • Banks must charge the same for payments in euro across the EU as they do for the equivalent national transactions.
  • Insurance firms can sell their products all across the EU, without having to be established in every EU country they service.
  • EU citizens and firms can register .eu domain names (over 300,000 were lost to UK entities as a result of Brexit).
  • Enhanced human rights protection (especially against the State) through the Charter of Fundamental Rights of the European Union.
  • Broadcasters can obtain a single broadcasting licence that is valid across the whole of the EU, negating the need for TV networks to obtain licences country by country.
  • Regulation and reporting of CO2 emissions in new vans and lorries, with a monitoring and enforcement system that includes fines for manufacturers that fail to meet the specified targets.
  • Participation in the EU emissions trading scheme, which establishes total caps on emissions while allowing individual companies to buy and sell their emission allowances to meet changing requirements. This is more flexible than the post-Brexit system where there’s an EU trading scheme and a separate scheme for the UK market only.
  • Participation in the EU pandemic Early Warning and Response system (EWRS) that ties together governments and key agencies to combat cross-border health threats.
Hayward concludes his long thread with these final observations:
  • As a political entity, the EU is NOT perfect. No sensible commentator has ever claimed it was. But it operates to try and maximise the long-term interests of 27 member countries, rather than to further the electability of whatever political party happens to be in power in one.
  • This means that, all other things being equal, the decisions it takes end up being less damaging to fewer people than those taken by uncaring national governments (does that scenario sound familiar?)
  • Like it or loathe it, we are trapped by geography. Grab any globe, and you’ll see the UK hovering just off the EU mainland. EU countries are always going to be our nearest neighbours. So it makes all the sense in the world to try to take full advantage of that proximity.
  • Unfortunately, politicians of all stripes seem singularly lacking in sense right now. Let’s hope that will change.
  • And, beyond mere hope, let’s strive to see that it does.
by

Memories of Russian geneticist Nikolai Ivanovich Vavilov (1887-1943)

A recent article brought to mind what I learned about Nikolai Ivanovich Vavilov (left) when I was a student, and also conversations I had with two eminent scientists who actually met Vavilov in Leningrad more than 80 years ago.

Vavilov was a brilliant geneticist, whose story the whole world deserves to know. The Crop Trust has just launched a new web series, Seed Heroes, with this first story, Nikolai Vavilov: The Father of Genebanks.

Surprisingly, as an undergraduate student studying botany in the late 1960s, I never heard anything about Vavilov or his pioneering work. In retrospect, I’m of the firm opinion that he should be part of every plant sciences or genetics degree curriculum. He was such a colossus, and one of my science heroes, about whom I have written or referred to in many blog posts.

It was only when I began a one-year MSc course on the Conservation and Utilization of Plant Genetic Resources at the University of Birmingham in September 1970 that I became acquainted with Vavilov and what he achieved to collect and study different varieties of crop plants from more than 100 countries. All with the aim of using the varieties—or genetic resources as we now can describe them—to breed new crops and make Soviet agriculture more resilient. Indeed, Vavilov is often referred to as the father of plant genetic resources, and correctly so, nevermind father of genebanks.

Vavilov was highly respected in the West, and he visited the UK spending time in the early years of the last century at the John Innes Horticultural Institution near London. His study of crop variation also opened new perspectives on the nature and distribution of genetic diversity in crop plants and their wild relatives, and where crops were domesticated thousands of years ago.

What would Vavilov have gone on to achieve had he not fallen foul of Stalin’s Soviet regime and his nemesis, Trofim Denisovich Lysenko, dying of starvation in prison in Saratov in 1943 at the age of 55?

So, what was Vavilov like as a man and scientist? Having spoken at length with Professor Jack Hawkes and Dr John Niederhauser about their visits to Russia in the 1930s, and meeting Vavilov, I almost feel that I knew him myself, albeit vicariously.

Jack Hawkes (right, 1915-2007), a potato taxonomist and head of the Department of Botany at the University of Birmingham founded the genetic resources MSc course there in 1969. Jack was also the co-supervisor (with Dr Roger Rowe of the International Potato Center in Peru) of my PhD research and dissertation.

In 1937, having just graduated from the University of Cambridge, Jack applied for an assistant’s position to join Dr PS Hudson, Director of the Imperial Bureau of Plant Breeding and Genetics in Cambridge, on an expedition to Lake Titicaca in the South American Andes to collect wild and cultivated potatoes. That expedition was delayed, and it wasn’t until early January 1939, under a new expedition leader, that Jack finally found himself in South America. The germplasm that was collected—from Argentina in the south to Venezuela in the north of the continent—became the founding accessions of what is now known as the Commonwealth Potato Collection.

You can read all about the Empire Potato Collecting Expedition to South America on this website (and view films that Jack made more than 80 years ago) based on Jack’s expedition notes and a 2003 memoir of the expedition, which he titled Hunting the Wild Potato in the South American Andes.

In Chapter 1 of that memoir, Jack describes at length the two week visit he made to Russia to meet with potato experts SM Bukasov, VS Juzepczuk, and VS Lechnovicz, to understand more about potato diversity (he’d never worked on potatoes until then), and discuss where and when to collect in South America since the Russians had already made collections there.

Jack writes that the visit to Leningrad was an experience that changed [his] life in many ways. He never forgot the kindness shown to him, a young man of only 23, by Vavilov and his colleagues.

Arriving in Leningrad on 26 August (or thereabouts), he first met Professor Bukasov, and almost immediately that same afternoon he was taken to the Lenin Academy of Sciences to meet Vavilov. Jack was invited to Vavilov’s apartment in Leningrad and his house in Moscow. They visited research stations together, and Vavilov even took Jack to the opera in Leningrad.

They discussed Vavilov’s ideas on the origin of crop plants and his theory of centers of diversity, his ‘Law of Homologous Series’ (which I applied in a paper on potatoes I presented at a Vavilov Centenary Symposium in 1987), the Russian system of potato taxonomy (which Jack initially used but found it over-complicated), and comparisons of British and Soviet agriculture.

They couldn’t avoid discussing Lysenko and his strong rejection of Mendelian genetics. Vavilov acknowledged Lysenko’s good work on wheat vernalization, and did not seem upset at Lysenko’s rejection of [Vavilov’s] results. Inevitably Jack and Lysenko crossed paths. Jack found him a dangerous, bigoted personality, entirely wrapped up in his own ideas. He was a . . . wholly repellent person. He was a politician rather than a scientist, and very much able to ingratiate himself with the communist politicians in Moscow. Here was, they thought, a Soviet man, born an unlettered peasant and now the sort of “first class” scientist that the communist system had created.

By 1938, Lysenko was in the ascendance, and obtaining more money for his work than Vavilov. In 1940, Vavilov was arrested and sent to prison on a trumped-up charge, and died there three years later, apparently of starvation. Ironic really, given that Vavilov had devoted his life to making agriculture more sustainable and increase crop productivity with the aim of defeating famine.

After he retired from Birmingham in 1982 (I had been appointed lecturer in plant biology the year before), Jack and I would often meet for lunch and a beer, and he would tell me all about that visit to Russia and meeting Vavilov. He said it had been  a great experience, and still couldn’t quite believe that Vavilov, a world-famous scientist, had treated him, a young man embarking on his scientific adventure, as an honored guest.

Jack’s lasting impression of Vavilov (who he admired immensely)  more than 60 years later was a large, jovial, hospitable and friendly person, putting [Jack] at ease and talking to [him] as an equal about his work and that of his colleagues.

I first met John Niederhauser (left, 1916-2005) in the early 1970s when I was an Associate Taxonomist at the recently-founded International Potato Center (CIP) in Lima, Peru and he was a consultant/advisor to CIP’s Director General, Dr Richard Sawyer.

John was the 1990 World Food Prize Laureate. A plant pathologist, he spent much of his career as a member of the Rockefeller Foundation’s agriculture program in Mexico (where his colleague in the wheat program was Norman Borlaug, the Nobel Peace Laureate in 1970), and researching resistance to the late blight pathogen of potatoes, Phytophthora infestans, the cause of the Irish Potato Famine of the 1840s.

In 1976, I had moved to Costa Rica and by 1977 I had been appointed CIP’s regional representative covering Mexico, Central America, and the Caribbean. About then, John’s and my paths crossed again, and we worked closely together for a year to design and launch a regional potato program, PRECODEPA, in six countries (later expanded to several more countries, and funded by the Swiss government for at least 25 years).

John and I traveled frequently together to those initial six countries, spending hours in airports and on the various flights, so had ample opportunity to really get to know one another.

He had been brought up on a farm in Washington state, but at the age of 17 in 1934 he bought himself a ticket to travel to Russia (I subsequently learned he had relatives there). So why choose Russia? Well, as John recounted the story, he had gone to a travel agent in San Francisco, and asked how far he could travel on his available funds. A return ticket to Leningrad was the outcome.

It seems that he and Vavilov met quite by chance. John had been visiting a botanical garden in Moscow, when a gentleman stopped and asked (in English) who he was and where he had come from. It was Nikolai Vavilov, of course. Well, the outcome (based apparently in part on John’s self-declared knowledge of tractor mechanics) was that Vavilov offered him a summer job on a state farm in the Ukraine where important germplasm collections were being multiplied. I’ve subsequently learnt that John spent an academic year in Moscow, all at the behest of Vavilov, before moving to Cornell University, where he also obtained his PhD in 1943 (the year of Vavilov’s death).

And like Jack Hawkes, John was full of admiration for Vavilov. He said that meeting him had changed the course of his life.

In the field of conservation and use of plant genetic resources, Vavilov is a giant. His scientific ideas about crop diversity have mainly stood the test of time. The collections he made are still held in the genebank that now bears his name. And his descriptions of crop diversity (I’ll never forget those of the rosaceous tree fruit forests—apples, pears and the like—in the mountain foothills of Kazakhstan), have inspired later generations of germplasm scientists, me in particular. As an MSc student, I wrote a dissertation on the origin of lentils, Lens culinaris. One of the major publications I had to consult was a monograph by Russian scientist Elena Barulina, Vavilov’s second wife.

Again I find myself wondering just what else Vavilov might have achieved had the Soviet regime never persecuted him so cruelly.

 

by

That was the year that was . . .

Let me begin this round-up of my 2023 blogging activity by wishing all my readers A Happy and Prosperous New Year 2024.

When I began thinking about this end-of-year post, it seemed to me that I’d been much less active on my blog during 2023 than in previous years. However, when I checked the stats, I saw that this is post number 45 for the year (compared with 43 in 2021 and 42 last year), and a slightly higher number of words overall.

There was, however, a particular blog milestone back in mid-August: my 700th post since I began in February 2012.

So why did I have this impression about my blog productivity this year?

Throughout 2023, I’ve had this constant feeling that Steph and I just didn’t do so much this past year compared to previous ones. That’s partly due to the fact that from the beginning of March (until quite recently) my mobility has been seriously constrained by lower back and leg pains, caused by spinal stenosis (that was finally diagnosed in August after an MRI scan). In recent weeks, things have improved compared to earlier in the year, but I still need to take daily pain medication and I have a regime of exercises first thing in the morning. It meant that for several months I just wasn’t able to get out and about on my daily walk or, if I did, just a short shuffle close to home.

Then, in July and August in particular, the weather here in the UK was particularly wet, and it hasn’t been much better ever since. So whenever we saw a break in the weather we tried to make an excursion somewhere: to some of the magnificent beaches on the Northumberland coast or inland to explore the awe-inspiring Northumberland landscapes. But those days have been few and far between.

Chew Green, a Roman fort in the Cheviot Hills, close to the border with Scotland.

But we have enjoyed our visits to The Alnwick Garden (where we have Friend of the Garden membership) every few weeks, to enjoy a coffee in the excellent cafe there before making a tour (lasting about an hour) around the garden. It’s always a pleasure to see the Garden in its different moods throughout the seasons.

And then it’s on to the coast or inland for one of our favorite views over the Northumberland landscape. We are so lucky to live close to the North Sea coast and its awesome beaches, such as this one at Cresswell.

Mid-year we spent three weeks in the USA, visiting our elder daughter Hannah and her family in Minnesota.

The St Paul skyline.

This was our first overseas trip since 2019. The Covid pandemic prevented us traveling to the USA in 2020 and 2021. In 2022 we still felt somewhat uncomfortable about air travel, so Hannah and family came over to the UK.

Then in September, we spent a week in North Wales, enjoying the landscapes that neither I nor Steph had explored since we were children. Staying in a farm cottage just south of Caernarfon we visited several National Trust properties such as Bodnant Garden and Penrhyn Castle, as well as Edward I’s 12th century castles owned by Cadw, the Welsh heritage organization (equivalent to English Heritage).

Caernarfon Castle

All in all, a great week away with much better than expected weather, which deteriorated quite rapidly thereafter. At the end of September, Storm Agnes barreled in off the Atlantic, and there have been six since then named jointly by UK Met Office, Met Éireann and the Dutch National Weather Service (KNMI). And just these past days, Storm Gerrit (following on almost immediately after Storm Pia that had been named by the Danish Met Service) caused major disruption across the country (especially in Scotland), including a tornado in the Manchester area.

If you browse through my posts for 2023 you will see they cover a whole range of topics — just as the name, A Balanced Diet, of my blog suggests. Obviously there were several posts about our Minnesota visits, and the holiday in North Wales. But often something in the news catches my eye, and inspires me to write something. Like the time I shared my thoughts about proposed changes to England’s education system and the introduction of a broader curriculum. Or the post I wrote about bridges after reading about someone inspired by these awesome constructions. Then Steph and I celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary in October and I turned 75 in November. Two more stories there.

For several years now, I haven’t commented on politics or the state of the world as I see it. But 2023 has been an extraordinary year, both nationally and internationally, for all the wrong reasons, that I feel I cannot end the year without making some comments.

In the UK, the Tory government (if you can call it that) lurches from one catastrophe to another. The dismissal and appointment of Cabinet members has seemed like a game of musical chairs. Fortunately, the ever cruel Suella Braverman has gone from the Home Office but her decidedly far right agenda with regard to immigration (legal or illegal) still pervades the Tories.

Rishi Sunak (or Rish! Pipsqueak as I prefer to refer to him) is a weak, arrogant, and inept Prime Minister, who has been found wanting in several areas. His appearance before the Covid Inquiry didn’t help his image. And where did all those WhatsApp messages go?

Former Prime Minister Boris Johnson’s appearance before the same inquiry just confirmed what we already knew about this self-serving, narcissistic liar.

Hopefully, there will be a General Election before long (there must be one by the end of 2024), and Labour will sweep to power with an overwhelming majority. That’s if the polls are to be believed.

I can’t say I have too much faith in Labour leader Sir Keir Starmer, but he should be a damn sight better as Prime Minister than the present incumbent (or immediate predecessors). However, I fear that the Tories will engineer the nation’s finances in such a way to leave Labour with a toxic legacy to deal with. For the Tories it’s definitely ‘Party before Country’.

Over in the United States, it’s hard to believe that Donald Trump has a good chance of winning back the White House in 2024. I was amazed (and equally appalled) when Trump won in 2016, but to think that he can make a comeback after all he has been accused of (and indicted for) beggars belief. The MAGA Republicans are no better than a Trump cult.

But the Democrats have their own problems. While the country has prospered under Joe Biden (who has kept quite a low profile compared to Trump when in office), does it really make sense for an octogenarian (he’ll be almost 82) to contest this general election? But who to take his place?

The outrageous invasion of Ukraine by Russia has slipped somewhat from the headlines in recent months, but every day still brings news of Russian aggression against civilians, with a flare-up just over the past couple of days. Day 676! Can it really be almost two years since the war began, and remaining stalemated to some extent? The prognosis for 2024 is not optimistic.

I have hesitated to make any public comments about the current situation in the Middle East, concerned that anything I might add would be construed as being anti-semitic. But read this from political commentator here in the UK, Robert Peston.

What Hamas perpetrated against innocent Israeli civilians on 7 October was beyond abhorrent, and bound to trigger a military response. But has Israel’s response been proportionate?

What the Israeli government and the Israel Defence Force have subsequently have inflicted upon millions of innocent Palestinian civilians in Gaza, and thousands of deaths (many of whom were women and children) is equally abhorrent, if not more so. And Israeli aggression continues in the occupied West Bank, where illegal settlements continue to spread, and settlers continue their attacks on Palestinians, supported by the Israeli government. What a depressing circle of violence.

And don’t get me started on climate change . . .

 

by

A final commission . . .

Sir John Vanbrugh (1664-1726)

Among the pantheon of English architects of the late 17th and early 18th centuries, Sir John Vanbrugh (dramatist, herald, and fervent Whig) is surely one of the most extraordinary since he never—apparently—received any formal training. His commissions included Castle Howard (for the Earl of Carlisle, in 1699) in North Yorkshire, and Blenheim Palace in Oxfordshire for John Churchill, 1st Duke of Marlborough in 1705.

Perhaps his most elegant—and final—commission was Seaton Delaval Hall (on a much smaller scale than either Castle Howard or Blenheim), designed for Vice-Admiral George Delaval and begun in 1718. Both Delaval and Vanbrugh died before the house was completed.

The Hall stands between the small communities of Seaton Delaval and Seaton Sluice in Northumberland, and just under 10 miles (as the crow flies) northeast from the center of Newcastle upon Tyne. It’s only six miles by road from our home in North Tyneside, and is our nearest National Trust property.

Admiral Delaval purchased the estate from an impoverished cousin, but the family had owned land in this area since the Norman Conquest in the 11th century. Seaton Delaval Hall has had an interesting history and was occupied by various branches of the extravagant Delaval family. In 1822 there was a catastrophic fire which gutted the central main block, which has remained derelict ever since. Now a Grade 1 listed house, it is owned by the National Trust.

Like Blenheim and Castle Howard, Seaton Delaval Hall reflects Vanbrugh’s baroque design penchant for buildings with symmetrical wings on either side of a central block.

Here are three aerial images of the Hall taken recently (courtesy of local photographer John Fatkin [1]) that brilliantly show this symmetry.

The north entrance of Seaton Delaval Hall, with the grand stables block on the left (east) side, and accommodation on the right (west). Courtesy of John Fatkin – Coastal Portraits.

The Hall from the east.

The grand South Portico, with the gardens to the left.

The Hall stands within an area of just under 8 hectares, and is surrounded by a 2m high Ha-Ha wall, 360 x 220m, with rounded bastions at each of the four corners. These bastions each had a statue on a pedestal, but these have been removed to other parts of the garden. The Church of Our Lady (originally Saxon) lies within the Ha-Ha wall, and was the private chapel of the Delaval family (in the trees in the bottom left corner of the photo below).

Just to the west of the South Portico there is a small formal garden, and beyond that a magnificent parterre that must be at least 50m, if not longer. The grounds have undergone extensive renovation in recent years.

The main entrance to Seaton Delaval Hall is through the gates off the Seaton Delaval-Seaton Sluice road, the A190, round to the car park on the east side. It’s then a short walk to the South Portico, with its magnificent ionic columns.

The entrance from the north courtyard.
The east wing stable block.
The west wing from the north entrance.
The south portico.
Heading towards the south portico.
The south portico.
Ionic columns of the south portico.
The broken pediment.

Inside, one is greeted with a scene of devastation: blank walls, evidence of fire, walls devoid of panelling or plaster. The roof is a modern addition. Even so, strangely enough, one can still appreciate how magnificent it must have looked in its heyday. Some features survived the 1822 fire and still on display in the main hall, which leads to another door opening on the north side, and into the main courtyard.

Either side of the entrance hall are quite spectacular spiral staircases which provide access to a first floor balcony from which to observe the destruction of the fire two centuries ago.

The basement rooms, which were servant quarters and the like, have been recently refurbished somewhat and can be explored.

The East Wing has a set of magnificent stables. I do not recall what the rooms above were once used for.

In our last visit to Seaton Delaval we were surprised—and pleased—to see that the West Wing had been opened, with a series of furnished rooms to view, and Delaval paintings and other possessions on display. On our previous visits going back to 2013 this wing had always been closed.

The gardens are not extensive, but paths have been opened up over the past couple of years or so to allow more access to explore the area within the Ha-Ha wall.

[1] You can find more of John’s stunning images around the local area on his Facebook page, Coastal Portraits by John Fatkin, and on X/Twitter at Coastal Portraits – It’s Grim up North.

 

by

Nunnington Hall – from 13th century manor house to 20th century family home

There has been a manor house beside the River Rye in the small village of Nunnington (lying within the Howardian Hills National Landscape of North Yorkshire) since the 13th century.

Built from a light colored coral rag Jurassic limestone, the Nunnington Hall estate occupies around 5 acres (2 ha) and is surrounded by a walled garden. The house has changed in character over the centuries, as each resident (owner or tenant) stamped their mark on its architecture and layout. It has been owned and managed by the National Trust since 1952, although it remained a family home until 1978.

Source: Historic England Archive 20838_044

In Tudor times there were distant royal connections, and during the 17th century English Civil Wars, Parliamentarian troops were garrisoned in the Hall.

A wealthy cloth merchant, Ranald Graham (right, created Viscount Preston in the Peerage of Scotland in 1681, died 1689) bought the Nunnington estate in 1655, and it remained in the family until the mid-18th century when the direct Graham line became extinct. Sublet and allowed to deteriorate, it was offered up for sale in 1839 in a semi-derelict state, and bought by William Rutson (1791-1867) whose family had made their fortune through colonial trade and slavery.

The five children of Susan and Peter Clive and their cousin Michael in the Oak Hall at Nunnington Hall.

Nunnington Hall was inherited by Margaret Fife (née Rutson, the great-niece of William Rutson) in 1920, and she set about the renovation of the Hall with her husband, Colonel Ronald D’Arcy Fife, funding the project from the sale of another Rutson property, Newby Wiske near Northallerton. One of their adopted daughters, Susan Clive, raised her family at Nunnington Hall, until moving to a house in the village.

I first visited Nunnington Hall in the summer of 1968, but recall very little of that visit, since only a few rooms were open to the public, and then only twice a week. It was only after the family vacated the Hall that the National Trust opened more of the house to the public, and more frequently.

In 2013, Steph and I stopped off on our way back south after visiting family in Newcastle.

Unlike Worcestershire where we lived until 2020, there are just a few National Trust properties near our home (since 2020) here in the northeast. And not all open for the Christmas season. I wrote briefly about our various Christmas visits after last year’s to Ormesby Hall near Middlesbrough.

So, on Friday last, we made the 162 mile round trip from North Tyneside to enjoy Nunnington Hall decorated in its Christmas finery. Being the first day of the Hall’s Christmas season (only each Friday to Sunday until just before Christmas), it was a delight to see many of the rooms brightly lit with Christmas trees and candles.

Let me take you on a brief tour of the house in 2013 and last Friday, highlighting some of the features that particularly caught my attention. A photo album of all the photos taken during both visits can be viewed here.

The entrance was suitably decorated for the Hall’s Christmas season, and we headed straight for the tearoom (with waitress service, unusual for National Trust tearooms) for a welcome cup of coffee before beginning the tour.

A kitchen or a Great Hall in earlier centuries, by 1921 the Stone Hall had become the entrance hall on the west facade of the building. One wall is hung with shooting trophies (mainly antelope of one species or another), with the skins of big cats on another. A huge fireplace (which was lit on our recent visit) dominates a third wall. And for Christmas, there was a tall (maybe 15 foot) tree, a Fashionable Victorian theme, with one of the volunteers (dressed as a butler) offering a small sherry or cranberry juice to each new visitor.

The Smoking Room, a few steps up from the Stone Hall, was Lord Preston’s bedchamber in the 17th century, but was adopted by Colonel Fife. The walls were painted Georgian green by Margaret Fife, and its theme was an indulgent Georgian Christmas. On our 2013 visit, this room was set up as a small dining room. And beyond the main room, in a small withdrawing room, the walls are covered in 18th century prints, and the ceiling decorated with original coats of arms.

From the Smoking Room, you step into the large Oak Hall with its stone floor, stone fireplace, and elegant, low-rise staircase leading to the first floor. This was an open courtyard in Tudor times, but was enclosed by Lord Preston in the late 17th century. There was a Tudor feast theme last Friday.

There are several paintings of William Rutson and his horses.

L: William Rutson’s groom and horses; R: William Rutson on a grey hunter

Hanging on the walls above the staircase are three tapestries, 300 years old, and another one in the Sitting Room.

During Margaret Fife’s time, the Sitting Room was the main family room, with a balcony overlooking the walled garden, with its terraces and orchard. Peacocks also strutting around the grounds. The Christmas theme was 1980s Party Time.

One feature which caught my attention in 2013 (and still prominently on display) was the superb set of porcelain figurines—Chelsea I presume—on the mantelpiece. How I would like to own a set like that, but my pockets aren’t deep enough!

In Margaret Fife’s bedroom and dressing room on the first floor, there is a charming (but controversial) portrait of her as a young girl, hanging above the fireplace.

Colonel Fife had his own bedroom, and particular feature that you can’t miss is the Chinese-style wallpaper, decorated with birds, flowers, and fruits.

A child’s bedroom, decorated with a tree and toys completed the bedrooms that were open. Wood-paneled, I seem to remember from our 2013 visit that there were carvings or graffiti in the wood made by Parliamentarian soldiers in the 17th century.

Schoolchildren from the nearby Slingsby Community Primary School had created the snowman exhibit in another bedroom.

The Nursery had a 1940s Rationing theme. The walls were covered with another impressive wallpaper, and a delightful doll’s house stood in one corner.

The attic floor under the eaves houses a couple of exhibitions. One of these is the permanent home of a collection of miniature rooms, donated to the National Trust by Londoner, Mrs Carlisle (known as ‘Kitty’). The models are truly exquisite in the amount of detail, even handwriting on miniature letters. The other exhibition, Fields, Folds, and Farming Life on display last week was a collection of photos and videos of farming life in Yorkshire by photographer Valerie Mather.

After a short (and rather muddy) walk around the garden, our visit to Nunnington Hall came to an end, and we headed back home.

But with just one other feature in the landscape to find: the Kilburn White Horse (map)The origin of the horse is disputed, but it appeared in November 1857, cut into the hillside above the village of Kilburn. Some credit the local schoolmaster and his pupils. The top soil was scraped away, and the horse covered in limestone chippings. It has needed regular maintenance over the years.

The Kilburn White Horse can be clearly seen from a distance, particularly from the A19 between Thirsk and York.

We made our way down the escarpment to the car park just below the horse, but from there you can only see the horse’s legs and part of its body.

I can’t finish this post without mentioning the spectacular climb into the Howardian Hills.

We had traveled south from North Tyneside on the A19 as far as Thirsk, where we took the A170 towards Scarborough. Just under six miles east of Thirsk, the A170 ascends the notorious Sutton Bank, with its 25% incline and hairpin bends. It’s such a challenge for some vehicles that caravans are banned from this stretch of road and have to find an alternative route on to the moors. Even HGVs struggle up the Bank.

Here’s some footage I made of the ascent and descent (almost 5 minutes, and available in HD).

 

by

‘Teaching is the one profession that creates all other professions.’ (Unknown)

I was surprised recently to read a tweet (or whatever they’re now called) on X suggesting that all university lecturers should be required to receive formal teacher training and an appropriate qualification. Just as teachers of schoolchildren must complete the Postgraduate Certificate in Education (or PGCE). Not that the PGCE automatically makes everyone a good teacher. Far from it. But the training must surely provide or hone the skills needed to teach better.

Well, whoever it was who tweeted that comment is behind the times. Many (most/all?) universities here in the UK now require incoming, probationary staff at least to take courses, such as the Postgraduate Certificate in Higher Education (PGCHE, a Masters level qualification) and also offer various teaching support modules to more established staff, that cover topics such as small/large group teaching, curriculum design, supervision, and many more.

But when I joined the University of Birmingham as a lecturer in the Department of Plant Biology (School of Biological Sciences) in April 1981 there was no such requirement for teacher training, nor do I remember much if any support being provided. You simply got on with it – for better or worse. Furthermore, teaching loads or commitments, or ability never counted much towards promotion prospects. Research (and research income) was the be-all and end-all.

I’d never aspired to be an academic. Before joining the university, I was working in the Americas over the previous eight years. In November 1980, I had just returned from a five-year assignment in Central America to the headquarters of the International Potato Center (CIP) in Lima, Peru while waiting for my next assignment in the Philippines. I had, however, already applied to Birmingham.

In January 1981 I flew to the UK for an interview and was offered the position immediately. So I returned to Lima knowing that my wife Steph and young daughter Hannah and I would be resettling in the UK before long.

Initially I had no teaching commitments, and I was able to get myself settled and oriented as a faculty member. I knew my way around the Birmingham campus since I was awarded my MSc degree in genetic resources there in 1971, and PhD in botany in 1975. But being a faculty member was very different from being a graduate student.

Come the beginning of the Summer Term in May however, I found myself facing a group of about 35 second year plant biology students for the first time to teach them some aspects of flowering plant taxonomy (along with my colleague Dr Richard Lester, at right, with whom I didn’t always see eye-to-eye over many aspects of course content and delivery).

Anyway, until then I had never taught a class in my life, although I was quite comfortable with public speaking, even enjoying it. I think I must have inherited my ‘love’ of public speaking from my father. Anyway, getting up in front of an audience never particularly fazed me, talking to my peers about my work, and the like. Nevertheless, I always had ‘butterflies in my stomach’ before facing a class for the first time.

Fortunately during the decade I spent at Birmingham I never had to teach any first year classes. Much of my teaching focused on graduate students (many from overseas) attending the 1-year MSc course on Conservation and Utilisation of Plant Genetic Resources (the very course I had attended in 1970-71). I taught a semester long (10 week term) course on crop evolution, two lectures and three hour practical classes per week, principles of germplasm exploration and collection (also with a practical component using a synthetic population made up of many different barley varieties), and a small module on agroecosystems. I also helped my colleague Professor Brian Ford-Lloyd (right) in some aspects of his data management module.

Then, during the summer months (when undergraduates were on vacation) we would supervise the dissertation projects of the MSc students. I guess I must have averaged two or three each year.

Brian and I jointly taught a five week undergraduate course on plant genetic resources, with at least one lecture per day, for final year undergraduates who would graduate with a Biological Sciences (Plant Biology) degree. I guess we must have between 10 and 15 students on average each year, who also had to complete an independent research project over the same period. It was always a challenge to devise projects that could be completed in the time available and that would (generally) generate positive results. Each student would take four of these five week modules.

I also gave a lecture on potato diseases on the third year plant pathology module taught by my colleague Dr Gillian Butler.

Around the mid-1980s I was asked to become chair of the Second Year Common Course, one that all biological sciences students had to take and which was taught by staff from all the four departments (Plant Biology, Zoology and Comparative Physiology, Genetics, and Microbiology) that made up the School of Biological Sciences. I contributed five or six lectures on agriculture and agroecosystems, based on my own experiences of working with crops in the Americas.

To some extent I agree with American novelist Gail Godwin that Good teaching is 1/4 preparation and 3/4 theatre. When you get up in front of a class of students, whether you feel up to it or not, whether it’s a topic you are enthusiastic or not, you have to ‘perform‘. Engage with the class.

The feedback I had from my students was that I was quite an effective teacher. That was gratifying to know. Back in the day, there was no Powerpoint or other digital props. Just the blackboard and chalk (which I hated as I had a slight allergy to chalk), the overhead projector with acetates, and 35 mm slides.

The tools which are available today permit a much more dynamic use of information, provided that there isn’t information overload. Less is often more. And you don’t try to use all 56 million colours in the Powerpoint pallette (as I have seen some speakers attempt to do!).

I think I became a more effective because I had to teach many graduate students who did not have English as their first language. We worked closely with a unit in the English department who assisted these students, to make their Birmingham experience better and help them through the rigors of graduate study. Lecturing to these students, I learned how to pace myself, and also how better to explain, often in different ways, aspects of the topics I was teaching. And working with the English unit staff (who would analyse our recorded lectures) I came to realise (as did my colleagues) just how often we use colloquialisms in everyday speech, and which are not easily translated for someone who is not a native English speaker.

Anyway, that experience of a decade’s worth of teaching overseas students stood me in good stead when I moved to the Philippines in 1991 and often had to give talks to diverse groups of visitors.

But returning to the opening premise of this post, about teaching qualifications for university staff, I think I would have welcomed much more formal feedback. Nowadays, there are mechanisms in place in universities to provide feedback. After all, the students are the clients who are paying handsomely for their education, and are not shy about denouncing poor teaching (and value for money) when warranted.

 

by

Three score and ten . . . plus five

It was my birthday yesterday.

Let me take this opportunity of thanking friends and former colleagues – from all over the world – who sent me birthday greetings. Very much appreciated.

One friend greeted me on achieving three quarters of a century. Now that sounds really old. Another wished me 25 years more. I replied that 10-15 would do me nicely.

In 1948, average life expectancy for males in England and Wales was only 65.9 years. Now it’s 79, due undoubtedly to increased living standards over the intervening decades leading to healthier diets, and better health propped up by the National Health Service that had been founded just a few months before my birth.

I wonder what hopes my Mum had for me on that day.

I was living in Congleton, Cheshire with my parents, Fred and Lilian Jackson, my brothers Martin (b. 1939) and Edgar (b. 1946), and sister Margaret (b. 1941). I started school around 1953.

Come 18 November 1958 – my 10th birthday – we had been living in Leek, Staffordshire for 2½ years already. I attended the local Catholic primary school, St Mary’s, just a few minutes walk from home, and hoped eventually to win a place at the Catholic grammar school in Stoke-on-Trent a couple of years later. Which I did.

Christmas 1958 in Leek (with my elder brother Edgar).

Moving on to 18 November 1968, I had just started the second year of my BSc degree course in environmental botany and geography at the University of Southampton. I had enjoyed my first year there, living in South Stoneham House, one of the halls of residence southeast of the university campus. I’d been elected Vice President of the Junior Common Room at the end of the first year, and that guaranteed me a second year at Stoneham. I guess I celebrated my 20th birthday in the pub with a few friends.

Over the previous summer vacation I’d attended an excellent botany field course on the west coast of island. And afterwards had spent several weeks with my girlfriend at her home just south of York or at my parents’ home in Leek. We also enjoyed a walking tour together of the North York Moors, staying at youth hostels (YHA) each night.

But our relationship was not to last. Just before the beginning of term in October, I received a Dear John letter from her. But not one to be downhearted for long, I picked myself up but forswore dating for a while.

And I threw myself into a new interest: morris dancing. Together with one of the botany department lecturers, Dr Joe Smartt, we founded the university morris side, the Red Stags (still active today, but in a different format and no longer associated with the university).

The Red Stags Morris Men after performing at the University of Southampton Open Day in March 1970. That’s me, kneeling on the right.

Along with my continuing enjoyment of English and Scottish folk dancing, this foray into morris dancing became one of my principal hobbies for the rest of my time at Southampton, and afterwards for several years.

I graduated from Southampton in June 1970, and by September I was studying once again at the University of Birmingham.

By my 30th birthday in November 1978, I already had MSc and PhD degrees from Birmingham under my belt, and had been working for the International Potato Center (CIP), an international agricultural research institute based in Lima, Peru for five years.

Steph (who I met in Birmingham) and I had been married for just over five years, and our first daughter Hannah was born in April. We were living in Costa Rica, but my work with CIP took me throughout the region, as well as to Mexico and the islands of the Caribbean.

If my memory serves me right, I ‘celebrated’ this birthday, a Saturday, on the Caribbean island of Montserrat. I was stuck in my hotel room in Plymouth (the island’s capital until it was destroyed in the Soufrière Hills volcanic eruption of the 1990s) while it rained cats and dogs outside.

In 1988, I had been teaching at the University of Birmingham for over seven years, in the Department of Plant Biology. It was a Friday. My 40th birthday. By then, my colleagues and I had developed a ‘tradition’ of celebrating in the Staff House bar at lunchtime (disgraceful!) with a bottle or two of Beaujolais Nouveau, the release of which always occurs around my birthday. Enjoying a bottle of the ‘new release’ was quite the rage in the UK back in the 1980s, perhaps less so today.

Hannah had turned 10 that year, and Philippa (born in Bromsgrove in 1982) turned six.

I left the university in 1991, to head the Genetic Resources Center (GRC) at the International Rice Research Institute (IRRI) at Los Baños, south of Manila, in the Philippines. In 1998, my GRC staff helped me celebrate my milestone 50th birthday. There must have been lots of snacks such as pancit and spring rolls and the like, ice cream (always vanilla!) and lots of cake. Probably donuts.

Then, in the evening, Steph and Philippa served champagne, and our helper Lilia had made a cake. Hannah was already away at university in Minnesota (where she still lives).

Steph and I celebrated our 25th (Silver) wedding anniversary just a month earlier.

A decade on, and I had changed jobs at IRRI, having moved from GRC to become the institute’s Director for Program Planning and Communications in May 2001.

I had an office suite in the main administration building, and my staff and others from nearby offices in HR and finance joined me to celebrate my 60th birthday.

With IRRI DG Bob Zeigler

Then, in the evening, Steph and I enjoyed the company of very close friends Corinta Guerta from my office, plant physiologist (and my closest friend at IRRI) John Sheehy, and Director for Development Duncan Macintosh (from Australia) and Cel (his Filipina girlfriend and now his wife) for an intimate dinner that almost ended in disaster before it had begun.

Nevertheless,we had a great time, but I think I must have drunk too much because I chose the wrong settings on my camera and the resulting images were not the best quality.

L-R: Corinta, me, Cel, John, and Steph
L-R: Cel, John, Steph, Duncan, and Corinta

I retired from IRRI in 2010, and Steph and I returned to our home in Bromsgrove that we had first moved into way back in 1981, but which we’d kept furnished by unoccupied during the 19 years we stayed in the Philippines.

I celebrated my 70th birthday in 2018, and we did something I’d wanted to do for several years: a weekend away in Liverpool, visiting the childhood homes of Paul McCartney and John Lennon (both managed by the National Trust), as well as The Beatles Story beside the Royal Albert Dock.

John Lennon’s home
Paul McCartney’s home
The Beatles Story
The Royal Albert Dock
The Royal Albert Dock
Ferry across the Mersey
On the Mersey ferry

We had a great weekend, taking the train from Bromsgrove (via Birmingham New Street) to Liverpool Lime Street. That was an added bonus. I love train journeys!

So here we are in 2023. It has become a tradition over the years for Steph to prepare my favorite meal on my birthday: homemade steak and kidney pie. I always look forward to that one special meal. And, as always, it was delicious, served with a bottle of good Portuguese red: Montaria Gold 2020 from the Lisbon region, a blend of Syrah, Alicante Bouschet, Trincadeira, and Aragonez grape varieties, made by Luis Vieira.

Had the weather been better we would have taken an excursion yesterday. But since the forecast had promised rain (which was the case) we headed north on Friday to the Alnwick Garden and the beach at Amble afterwards.

Oh, and we’d quietly celebrated our 50th (Golden) wedding anniversary a month ago.

 

by

Celebrating the beauty of England’s northeast coast

We moved to North Tyneside, just east of Newcastle upon Tyne, a little over three years ago, from our home of 39 years in Bromsgrove, Worcestershire to be closer to our younger daughter and her family who live in Newcastle. We had enjoyed living in Worcestershire; it’s a lovely county. But we also relished the thought of exploring the glorious northeast.

We have not been disappointed. It’s also a special delight living so close to the North Sea coast, just six miles to the spot where we usually park for a walk on Seaton Sluice beach.

Having lived in the Tropics for so many years, and enjoyed snorkeling and scuba diving there, swimming in the cold North Sea holds no attraction whatsoever. There are, however, hardier individuals than me.

But the magnificent coastline has everything: long, sandy beaches; dunes; rocks; and cliffs. And, as often as we can, weather permitting, we make a beeline for the coast.

So let me share with you some of the beauty of this coast that we’ve experienced so far.  A coast that boasts some of the best beaches in the whole of the country, and many stunning views. Several parts of the coast are managed by the National Trust.

I’ll take you on a tour from north to south.

Lying just off the Northumberland coast, a few miles north of Bamburgh, the Holy Island of Lindisfarne is separated twice a day by a tidal causeway. We first visited Holy Island in 1998 when, on home leave from the Philippines, we spent a week touring the county. We returned in July 2022.

Holy Island was a centre of early Celtic Christianity, and the ruins of the priory still stand there. As does the Tudor castle (very much modernised) on a promontory.

Lindisfarne Priory from the castle.
Bamburgh Castle from Lindisfarne.

At the entrance to the harbor (on Guile Point) are two obelisks, which can be seen just right of center in the image below.

These are the Old Law Beacons, built in 1826 and are a navigational aid that, when lined up, guide sailors into the harbor through the safe channel.

Heading south, it’s not long before the early 14th century ruins of Dunstanburgh Castle on a remote headland come into view. The castle is only accessible on foot, just under 1½ miles north of the fishing village of Craster (famous for its kippers!) along a rugged rocky coast. The cliffs around the castle are home to an important colony of kittiwakes.

Craster harbor.
Dunstanburgh Castle.
Kittiwakes.
The view from the castle south to Craster.

Embleton beach can be seen from the castle to the north, but we’ve not been there yet.

Just 5 miles south from Craster, the River Aln reaches the North Sea at Alnmouth, with sandy beaches flanking the estuary. On the distant horizon to the south lies Coquet Island, 1 mile off the coast from the fishing port of Amble (a town we have yet to explore).

Next south is Warkworth beach, a favorite of my daughter and her family. It’s just north of the town, with its 12th century castle, and the estuary of the River Coquet (which has its source high in the Cheviot Hills to the west). It’s a good walk through the dunes from the car park to the beach itself.

Quite often after we have made one of our regular visits to the Alnwick Garden (where we have Friends of the Garden membership), we head down to the coast south of Amble (next images) to have our picnic lunch looking out towards Coquet Island, an important reserve managed by the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB) and the most important breeding site in the UK for roseate terns.

It has been badly hit by avian flu. Boat-landings are not permitted on the island even without the restrictions of avian flu.

Just a little further south, and inland from the northern end of Druridge Bay lies Hauxley Wildlife Discovery Centre. There’s a circular walk (about 1¼ miles or 2 km), several hides from which to observe the numerous bird species, and the Lookout Café there serves an excellent cup of coffee.

We’ve visited there a few times, most recently less than a month back. On that visit we saw 36 different species of birds within the space of an hour: wildfowl, waders, and hedgerow birds. A complete range.

Druridge Bay must be one of the longest beaches in Northumberland, over 7 miles long, and backed by high dunes (which, in one location, is the haunt of naturists—presumably during the summer months only!). The Bay stretches from Amble in the north to Cresswell in the south. Inland from the beach, Druridge Bay Country Park covers an area of almost 66 acres (27 ha), with a large freshwater lake, woodland, and grassland and meadows, as well a stretch of the beach and dunes.

At Cresswell there are exposed—at very low tides—the remains of an submerged forest, but we’ve not yet had luck in finding them. The beach is flanked by rocky outcrops at both ends. Parts of the beach are also covered with sea coal which some of the locals gather.

Cresswell beach.
Sea coal at Cresswell.

We haven’t yet explored any of the beaches between Cresswell and Blyth, but those south of Blyth as far as the mouth of the River Tyne are where we most often go for a walk. These include Blyth and Seaton Sluice beaches, St Mary’s lighthouse, Whitley Bay, Cullercoats, Long Sands Beach between Cullercoats and Tynemouth, with King Edward’s Bay nestling under the Tynemouth headland on which stand Tynemouth castle and priory, with a magnificent view over the Tyne.

Replica gun battery behind Blyth beach.
Looking towards Seaton Sluice from Blyth gun battery.
The beach at Seaton Sluice.
Seaton Sluice harbor.
‘The Cut’ at Seaton Sluice harbour, opened in 1763.
The view of St Mary’s Lighthouse from Old Hartley.
St Mary’s Lighthouse.
Whitley Bay.
Cullercoats harbor from the north.
Cullercoats harbor from the south.
Fairie caves at Cullercoats.
Long Sands beach between Cullercoats and Tynemouth.
The old Tynemouth outdoor ool.
King Edward’s Bay from the north.
King Edward’s Bay from Tynemouth Priory.
Tynemouth Priory.
The Priory and former coastguard station.
The entrance to Tynemouth Castle and Priory.
Tynemouth Lighthouse and the entrance to the River Tyne from Tynemouth Priory.

The small harbor at Seaton Sluice, at the mouth of the Seaton Burn, was built by the Delaval family (of nearby Seaton Delaval Hall) in the 18th century to export coal and glass.

St Mary’s Lighthouse is only accessible across a causeway at low tide.

We regularly see a small colony of Atlantic grey seals, and the rocky outcrops there attract large numbers of waders like curlew and golden plover in autumn and early winter.

At the end of March this year, we took the Tyne Ferry to cross from North Shields to South Shields, mainly to visit Arbeia, the Roman fort there. But also to take a look at the entrance to the Tyne from the south and the beaches at South Shields.

Littlehaven Beach at South Shields.
The mouth of the River Tyne.
Herd Groyne Lighthouse

South of the South Shields beaches, crumbling magnesian limestone cliffs tower over the coast at Marsden and Whitburn. There are sea stacks and arches dotted along the coast, nesting sites for many sea birds. This stretch of coast is one of our favorites to walk. There is also the added attraction of Souter Lighthouse, visible from miles away.

Marsden Cliffs south of the River Tyne
Whitburn close south of the River Tyne
National Trust Souter Lighthouse

The limestone is quarried, and in the 1870s a bank of 15 lime kilns was built to process the limestone, linked to the Whitburn colliery and Marsden colliery village, both of which have now been demolished.

The National Glass Centre stands alongside the River Wear in Sunderland.

The mouth of the Port of Sunderland on the River Wear, across from the National Glass Centre.

It’s really worth a visit, and we enjoyed ours a year ago. There’s a long history of glass-making there, and it’s also connected to the establishment of early Christianity. Close by is the Saxon church of St Peter (below), one half, with St Paul’s in Jarrow, of the double Monkwearmouth-Jarrow monastery where the Venerable Bede, one of England’s greatest ecclesiastical scholars spent most of his life in the 8th century.

And talking of glass, in August 2022, Steph and I did some serious beachcombing at Seaham, south of Sunderland, searching for sea glass. I wrote about that visit in this blog post. The beaches there are part of the Durham Heritage Coast, which has been rehabilitated after decades of industrial abuse in the past. Blast Beach is where we found a nice source of sea glass, but the beach north of the town is supposed to be richer. We’ve yet to search there.

So, there you have it. At around 80 miles, and in many locations less than an hour from home, this stretch of coast must be one of the more interesting and beautiful in the country.

 

by

More plant blindness?

Tomorrow, 22 October, BBC1 will air Sir David Attenborough‘s next blockbuster 8-part series, Planet Earth III¹, just a year after his last series Frozen Planet II was broadcast.

Planet Earth III? From what I have seen in the trailer for the series, perhaps this should—once again—be titled [Animal] Planet Earth III.

There’s no doubt that the filming is spectacular, the ‘stories’ riveting. As one of the cinematographers has written, [the series] is set to be the most ambitious natural history landmark series ever undertaken by the BBC. It will take audiences to stunning new landscapes, showcase jaw-dropping newly-discovered behaviors, and follow the intense struggles of some of our planet’s most amazing animals (my underlining emphasis).

It’s not very likely that the series will feature plants much, if at all. Are plants being short-changed yet again? Of course there are many programs on television about gardening. But these don’t count, in my opinion, towards any greater understanding of and knowledge about plants and their uses.

That’s not to say that the BBC (or Sir David) have completely ignored plants. In January 2022, his five episode The Green Planet series was broadcast. It was, for me however, a bit like the curate’s egg²: good in parts.

And you have to go way back to 2003 for his The Private Life of Plants series, described as a study of the growth, movement, reproduction and survival of plants.

Before that, I can only think of Geoffrey Smith‘s World of Flowers double series, broadcast on BBC2 in 1983 and 1984, and apparently attracting an audience of over five million.

Who said there was no appetite for programs about plants? These programs weren’t your run-of-the-mill gardening programs. No, in each program Smith highlighted the origin and development of different groups of plant species commonly grown in British gardens.

Furthermore, conservation for many relates to animals. This is something my former Birmingham colleague Brian Ford-Lloyd and I wrote back in 1986.

So what has brought about this latest concern of mine? Well, I first came across the announcement for Planet Earth III‘s imminent broadcast on the same day recently that I subscribed to a new plant-based blog: Plant Cuttings. And there, on the home page, was the blog’s goal for all to see: to reduce plant blindness.

The blog is the creation of Mr P Cuttings (aka Dr Nigel Chaffey, a former senior lecturer in botany at Bath Spa University, and a self proclaimed freelance plant science communicator), and is dedicated to all those who find fascination in plants (and how they are used by people). You can find more about the rationale for and antecedents of Plant Cuttings here. It’s a continuation of the series of articles he published in Annals of Botany, the last one, Check beneath your boots . . ., being published in 2019 (also about ‘plant blindness’).

Unfortunately, plants are often seen as boring, especially by high school students who we need to attract to the plant sciences if the discipline (in all its aspects) is to thrive. Thus this initiative by PlantingScience, a Student-Teacher-Scientist partnership in the USA that was founded in 2005 by the Botanical Society of America.

Let me wish Nigel all the best as he develops this new Plant Cuttings blog. I’m very much in accord with his goals. After all, much of my career in the plant sciences has focused on the origin of the plants that feed us, how they can preserved for posterity in genebanks, and used to increase crop productivity.

So what sparked my interests in plants and human societies? 

While a high school student, I first thought I’d become a zoologist. But I saw the light and my interests turned towards plants, and I took a botany degree (combined with geography) in the late 1960s at the University of Southampton.

One of the books that I read was first published in 1952 (I have the 1969 reprint) by American botanist Edgar Anderson. He wrote it for readers with little technical understanding of plants. After 70 years it has stood the test of time, and I thoroughly recommend anyone who has the slightest interest of the relationships between humans and plants to delve into Plants, Man & Life.

Thus I’ve been fascinated for decades about the beginnings of agriculture and how humans domesticated wild plants, and where, and to what uses they have put the myriad of varieties that were developed. My own expertise in conservation of genetic resources has permitted me to explore the Andes of Peru to find many different varieties of potato, the foundation on which Andean civilizations such as the Incas became successful.

Collecting potatoes from a farmer in northern Peru, May 1974.

A graduate student of mine worked out the probable origin of the grasspea, a famine crop in some parts of the world. And I’ve managed the largest genebank for rice in the world (rice feeding half the world’s population every day), and with my colleagues expanded our knowledge of the relationships of cultivated rices to their wild ancestors. I directed a five year program in the mid-1990s to collect cultivated rices from many countries in Asia and Africa, especially from the Lao PDR.

These are just three examples from all the plants which societies use and depend on. So many more, and so many fascinating stories of how civilization and agriculture developed.

Just recently, on holiday in North Wales, my wife and I came across the site of about 20 hut circles on the northwest tip of Anglesey, dating back to the Iron Age, some 2500 years ago.

Holyhead Mountain Hut Circles
Holyhead Mountain Hut Circles
Holyhead Mountain Hut Circles

What is particularly fascinating for me is that there is good evidence that crops like wheat, barley, and oats among others were being cultivated there 3000 years earlier. That’s about 4500 years after these crops were first domesticated in the Near East in Turkey and along the river valleys of the Tigris and Euphrates. In the intervening years, these crops were carried across Europe by migrating peoples as they headed west until they became staples on the far west of mainland Britain. The domestication and expansion of these crops is also the story of those societies.

Plants are definitely not boring. Botany opens up a host of career opportunities. Today we need to harness the whole range of plant sciences, from molecule to field, to understand and use all the genetic diversity that is safely conserved in genebanks around the world, and backed up in many cases in the Svalbard Global Seed Vault. We now have so many more tools, particularly molecular ones, at our fingertips to study plants.

Be sure to follow Plant Cuttings to find out more about the joy of plants and their value to humankind. I trust many more generations will be proud to say they became botanists (or, at the very least, took up one of the allied plant sciences).

¹I watched the first episode of Planet Earth III on BBC IPlayer catch up. Verdict: stunning photography but boring content, seemingly a rehash of so many nature programs. All animals. However, at 97, Sir David Attenborough is a remarkable presenter.

² A curate’s egg is something described as partly bad and partly good.

by

We walked to Scotland last Thursday

Well, I might be exaggerating a wee bit. We didn’t walk all the way there. Just the last half mile. Let me explain.

Thursday was, for the first time in many days, bright and sunny although much cooler than we have enjoyed of late. And while the weather has been better here on the coast (we live just a few miles inland), it has been much more unpredictable in the hills, and rainy on many days.

However, with a more promising forecast we decided to head off to the Cheviots, and specifically to Chew Green Roman fort and encampment (built around 79 AD) close to the border with Scotland, and a location we have visited twice before.

At its nearest, the Scottish border is only 40 miles or so (65 km) northwest as the crow flies from our home in North Tyneside, or about 55 miles or so by road. This is the route we took.

Chew Green is just beyond the ‘end’ of the road near the headwaters of the River Coquet, and the drive there (on a very narrow road) beyond Alwinton winds its way through beautiful Upper Coquetdale.

This video, of the drive from Alwinton to Chew Green lasts over 41 minutes. You can double the playback  speed (without affecting your appreciation of the marvellous landscapes) by clicking on the Settings button.

The road does continue beyond Chew Green. However, it passes over the Otterburn Ranges, an area of the Northumberland National Park controlled by the Ministry of Defence where troops are trained and live firing takes place. Access is often restricted, as it was on Thursday, when the red flags are raised.

Nevertheless, we just drove a few hundred meters beyond the parking spot, climbing the hill facing Chew Green to get a better view of the embankments of the camp, something we had not done on either of our previous visits.

Leaving the parking spot on foot, we headed west (just south of the fort/encampment) until we reached a dip in the landscape with a small burn (and tributary of the River Coquet, if not the beginnings of the river itself), crossing over a stile, and stepping into Scotland.

No border patrols here, although for centuries past this was a most contentious border, and the location of many cross-border raids and cattle rustling.

That’s Scotland beyond the dip in the landscape in this video. It’s a pity there was no post along the path to indicate exactly where you pass from one nation into the other.

One foot in England, the other in Scotland.

Then we walked up over the fort, and made our way back to the car. Dere Street, one of the most important Roman roads that connected Eboracum (York) with Roman forts beyond Hadrian’s Wall and over the border into Scotland, runs right beside Chew Green. It’s remarkable that the camp’s embankments are so well preserved, after 1900 years.

At its headwaters here in the Cheviots, the River Coquet is no more than a babbling brook.

But within a short distance from Chew Green, it becomes a substantial river (as you can see in this video of the return journey down the valley) wending its way east to the North Sea at Amble.

Incidentally, most of the sheep in the videos are the local Cheviot breed, with some horned Scottish blackface.