Tag Archives: Peak District
“Turtle rhymes with purple,” I said to my daughter, as we drove around the winding roads of the High Peak.
“So?” my daughter replied.
“They say, ‘nothing rhymes with purple’.”
“You’re wrong,” she said flatly.
“I-am-not-wrong!” I replied indignantly.
“It’s, ‘nothing rhymes with orange’,” she said, gazing wistfully out of the window.
NOTHING RHYMES WITH ORANGE
By David Milligan-Croft
I feel a twinge…
Does that rhyme with orange?
The thought makes me cringe.
That nothing rhymes with orange.
That girl’s fringe is orange.
It’s a lunatic-orange-fringe.
Her name is Georgina.
She’s drinking a bottle of Orangina.
I once used a syringe,
To extract the juice from an orange.
I saw a sunset go down over Stonehenge.
I think you know what colour it was.
These shots were taken up at Errwood Reservoir in the Goyt Valley.
It was dusk and a mist had descended over the hills. It was eerily calm, quiet and beautiful.
Followers of my Instagram account would be forgiven for thinking that I live in some sort of moorland idyll judging by the photos I post. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. I live in a mediocre suburb of Stockport in north west England. However, I am extremely fortunate to have the aforementioned idyll on my doorstep within a half-hour drive. And even luckier to have a car to get me there.
Many of us yearn for foreign climes, but I have discovered so many beautiful places close to where I live.
When I say ‘I discovered’, I think someone else might’ve been there before me. Judging by the roads. And the reservoir. And signposts. And farm buildings.
Welcome to the third instalment of Reflections on Lockdown. Today, I’ll be focussing on nature and photography.
One of the things my children and I have been doing a lot more of during lockdown is getting out into the beautiful countryside that is on our doorstep. In the early days of lockdown, we’d just drive around and not get out of the car. More recently, we’ll go for a wander making sure to wear masks and social distance. Not that we see any bugger else where we go.
Where I live in the North West of England is on the edge of the Peak District, East Cheshire and the Yorkshire Dales. We’re truly blessed to have such stunning scenery so close by.
So, this post is as much about the benefits of being in and around nature as it is about art. The art aspect is the photographs I take along the journey. (And yes, I saturate the bejaysus out of them when I get home.) In my defence, manipulating the images only brings out what is already there in nature. It just needs teasing out.
Apparently, spending two hours per week is scientifically, (yes, scientifically), proven to lower blood pressure, reduce stress hormone levels and boost the immune system. (Amongst other things.) A bit of old vitamin D from the sun can’t hurt either.
We’re lucky in that we have a car. But you don’t have to go miles to get your daily dose of nature. There are plenty of parks and urban green spaces to get your fix. Take a few snaps on your phone, or even take a sketch pad with you.
Here are a few shots I’ve taken over the last few months. I’ll try to put where they are if I can remember.
So, we’re starting to build a picture as to the state of my mental health during lockdown and the role that art has played in my recovery. I hope you enjoy this instalment of ‘Reflections of Lockdown’.
If you, or someone you know, are experiencing mental health issues, call your GP or self refer to your local mental health team, (usually based at your local hospital).
If things are a bit more urgent than that you can call the Samaritans for free on 116 123. Or call the NHS on 111, they will treat your illness as seriously as they do any other.
If you want to see more of my photos and artwork follow me on Instagram: @milligancroft
Here’s a sneaky peek at some of my photographs being prepared to be exhibited at the Oasis Cafe at Stepping Hill Hospital in Stockport.
Ultimately, the real objective is to make people happy. Make people feel positive and inspired. And to raise awareness of Arc’s many wonderful programmes and services for mental wellbeing.
Anyhoo, they range between £45 – £50 for a framed print if you fancy one. They come with a window mount, glass frame, printed on a fine glossy stock. (Postage would be on top.)
I’m going to pop in to Arc tomorrow, so I can get dimensions for you then. But, they’re roughly A3 in size. Two are larger and in a square format.
Send me a message in the box below, or email me at: email@example.com if you’re interested.
White Scar, Hawes, North Yorkshire. 32.5 cm x 42.5 cm £45
Goyt Valley, Peak District. 35.5 cm x 35.5 cm £45
Drystone wall, Grassington, North Yorkshire. 32.5 cm x 42.5cm £45
Wuthering Heights, Haworth Moor, West Yorkshire. 32.5 cm x 42.5 cm £45
Ribblehead Viaduct, North Yorkshire. 52.5 cm x 52.5 cm £50
I love the rain.
Which, when you live in a country like England, is pretty fortunate because it pisses it down all the time. (Not keen on it when it’s accompanied by a bitterly cold wind, mind.)
There’s something very cleansing and liberating about it.
That said, hearing it can be just as joyous as feeling it – the sound of rain against a Velux, or the cascading rhythm of droplets on leaves.
Where would we be without it, eh? Here’s where…
Don’t get me wrong, I love the sun, too. And I wouldn’t say no to swapping the North of England for the South of France for six months of the year.
But, let’s face it, we wouldn’t have This Green and Pleasant Land, or the Emerald Isle, (not to mention flowers and crops and animals to feed off the land), if it weren’t for a spot of rain now, would we?