Recognising Butterflies

I admit I am not good at recognising most things to do with nature. I tend to soak in the beauty and wonder of it all rather than add to my knowledge of what each insect, butterfly, moth and beetle are called. That is, I tend to recognise things that sting and bite but let the rest fly freely in my mind. But occasionally, I do get interested in names in order to communicate, as with the rest of knowledge, and life in general.

Earlier this year, We had quite a few lovely butterflies fluttering around the flowing shrubs. I did not think they were Red Admirals and yet...

So I looked on the Internet and asked around. Could this be a new variety of a Red Admiral? I was assured it was common.

The Saturday Telegraph has at last put me right. I have attached here a photograph of what is called a Small Tortoiseshell. According to a survey done a short while ago it comes ninth in the 'sightings league'. The Red Admiral is eighth. I have put a copy of a cutting from Saturday 28th August 2010 here, along with their photo of and mine of the Small Tortoiseshell. I guess there IS beauty in a name as well as the object it represents.

Now I am interested in knowing butterfly names. I expect my brain can find room for a few more facts after all!

Visit my other sites:

Lake District Saga — Checkmate

Diary of a Country Lady

Gladys Hobson — Author

Magpies Nest Publishing

Gladys Writes

Ask Gran Hobson

and my main blog site — Wrinkly Writers

The Band Played On — for young and old

The Band Played On — for young and old

The band played their delightful music in Ulverston Market Square today. Shoppers stopped a short while to listen but few lingered for long. A little fellow in a pushchair sat enthralled by both music and the bandsmen. His little legs and arms bobbing up and down with the rhythm. A joy to watch and an excuse for me to join him — at least tapping and swaying, and clapping. Oh no, not from where I stood but standing by the infant, encouraging him in his activity. I guess grown-ups are fearful of being thought exhibitionists.

But it wasn’t only the band in the Market Square. A local by the name of Geoff Dellow was there at a table with leaflets, drawing attention to Ulverston’s need for volunteers to keep the Tourist Information Office open. And for Ulverston to have a greater say in the running of the town, in particular as regard to our car parks, and for the need to draw tourists to help the local economy. Hopefully, plenty of locals will turn up at the Town Hall council meeting on October 6^th at 7.15 to give support.

Meanwhile shoppers strolled around doing their own thing.

I thought this was great — an infant boy, and an elderly man. Each doing their own thing, and yet linked through the music of the band that provides that extra touch of pleasure for tourist and locals alike. The elder looking to the future for the likes of the little one, and the little one simply imbibing the pleasure of the moment.

Take a look at my publishing site — covers, blurbs, reviews and chapters to read.

Flowers that bring joy to the soul...

I have just taken this photograph looking out of a downstairs window. There might even be raindrops on the glass as it is a wet day and gloomy with it. But flowers in the garden are delightfully cheering. These hydrangeas were all grown from cuttings. There are more of them all over the garden — front and back — and in pots. We had just one pink one when we arrived at this house, and I planted a blue one. Now they are large bushes with progeny filling the flower beds! So easy to grow. So much pleasure in their beauty. But more than that — they give a sense of achievement when other things I do fail.

Ulverston Canal — a walk on the wild side

A Walk on the Wild Side — of Ulverston Canal










It is a wonderful thing to have a canal on the edge of town. With so many walks to choose from in the area, a footpath on level ground is wonderful for those with joint problems. It is equally great for anyone who is a lover of nature. All the senses are engaged and of beauty there is no end.
At one end is the coast of Morecambe Bay, an interesting place to explore. Looking in the opposite direction is Hoad Hill with the newly renovated monument. Looking to one side are fields of grass with grazing livestock. On the other side oddments of industry ranging from a huge complex of Glaxo-Smith-Kline to old buildings dating from when the canal was in full use. The sea end of the canal is blocked. Sometime in the near future the canal is to be turned in a marina. I guess it will change quite a bit. Even so, there is something appealing about a stretch of water bearing wild life. Let's hope that will continue when animal life shares the canal with boats and far more people than at present.
Flowers there are aplenty. Anglers sit silently. And sounds of animals and birds are heard above the hum of industry — indeed, you don't notice the industry as there are too many things that grab attention. Whole families may pass you by, or friendly walkers with even friendlier dogs. Everyone has a smile for those they meet along the path. Why? Because when out relaxing and communing with nature, humans have time to be just that — human.


Magpies Nest Publishing
Wrinkly Writers
My Books
Diary of a Country Lady

Books, books, books and one just finished!

At last my rewrite of Blazing Embers is finished. Several thousand less words and, so I believe, better for the trimming. There is much to learn in writing novels.
Over the past years, I have been taking note how other authors put words together. The last book we read is an old one — Sweet Thursday by Steinbeck. Totally different to our recent 'mystery' books, and quite enjoyable once we got into it.
I don't know if that book has influenced my new title for Blazing Embers, but it is possible. My novel is now called - To Have And To Hold. I have tried to draw out both the humour (plenty of that) and the pathos (not a lot of that but powerful). Now I want a new cover, something entirely different. I'm not rushing it as it must be right. When it comes to books, unless an author is well known, people do judge a book by its cover (initially at least).
Maybe this new version will be of interest to publishers. Certainly the interest in sex and the older generation has pepped up recently. The visits to my posts on this very subject continue to grow. I can't remember quite but I think approaching a thousand. So I intend to submit the manuscript to agents and publishers who publish humorous romance. Don't suppose there can be many.

Once I get myself straight I intend to do reviews of our reading again. I have a stack of books ready! Quite a lot were taken to Oxfam but I still have these. I will likely post the reviews on Wrinkly Writers.


See also Diary of an English Lady
My book sites: Magpies nest Publishing, Gladys Hobson — writer

The Blank Page Syndome

Jelly beans — oh dear, only three left!

The Blank Page Syndrome

I’ve got work to do. Another 100 pages of a new version of a novel to rewrite. But I’m tired, not sleeping too well and have things on my mind. I divert to getting blogs up to date just to feel a sense of having finished a task, however small.
I have ideas for stories put aside, having decided a few weeks ago to do this rewrite. But I know, in a way, the rewrite was started because those ideas were not flowing freely. Couldn’t have been could they? Otherwise it would have finished at least one story before starting the next and the next and the…. Oh yes, procrastination and all that. But as long as I am writing something the ‘thief of time’ will not win. Or will it?
I often sit down ready to begin. Decide I need a coffee or a cup of tea. Then back to the computer. Maybe a Kit Kat will give my brain energy? Break it up into small pieces to make it last. One minute later I wonder where it has all gone! Should have stuck to pinching my son’s tiny jelly beans. One bean can last ages because each has a wonderful flavour — 36 flavours in all. Nothing like change for stimulating the taste buds if nothing else.
Well, I’ve eaten a jelly bean. Post this and back to the serious stuff. We go for a walk into town in less than an hour. Nothing like a coffee in a café for …


Gladys Hobson — author
Diary Of An English Lady
Wrinkly Writers — my life's an open book
My Space, Gladys Writes
Magpies Nest Publishing.

Weddings — Then and Now (1953, 1982, 2010)

Weddings — Then and Now (1953, 1982, 2010)






57 years ago, in 1953, a celebration of marriage took place in Beeston, Nottingham. It was a simple affair — it had to be as these were lean years not long after the war when rationing was still in place. The bride wore a dress designed and made by herself.
Having bought the fabric (primrose satin and white lace) through the firm where she worked, the total cost of the dress, including twenty pearl buttons (one for each year of her age) and two lace butterflies to decorate the neck of the dress, plus stiffening for the skirt, cost a total of £2.10s (£2.50). The bride also made little Dutch style hat made of lace and artificial lilac flowers. The veil was bought for about 5s. I had two bridesmaids in yellow (material cost £2 for both) with anemone posies.
The bouquet was a mixture of white flowers available at the time — Spring Day, the 21st of March, 1953
Two ladies helped her mother serve up home prepared food in a room hired for the purpose. A lovely wedding cake, made by Burtons of Nottingham, plus a tray of iced fancies were luxury items!
A weekend in Buxton, Derbyshire, and Mr and Mrs Hobson were ready to face their new life together as man and wife (three years in a bedsit at her mother’s house until a deposit was saved for a home of their own).
Yes, I was that bride in a DIY dress. (Perhaps I should mention that my dad had become seriously disabled and money in our house was in short supply.)
1982, I made the wedding dress for my son Stephen’s wife — our lovely Linda. A great deal of hand stitching — embroidery and pearl beads — went into that dress. Plus dresses for the bridesmaids and my mother. That was quite a wedding celebration — afternoon and evening — with lots of guests.
Fifty-seven years after my own wedding, my handsome, grandson Matthew, married his lovely Lisa. Fantastic dress and all the trimmings expected these days. A fortnight honeymoon abroad and a home of their own to return to. Everything wonderful, from the wedding in Church followed by the wedding breakfast, to the dancing in the evening. (See my Wrinkly Writers site).
Three Mr and Mrs Hobsons. Each enjoying their very own special day. On a personal level, have things really changed?