Map of Wiltshire's White Horses

I've re-drawn my Wiltshire White Horses map, because there were elements in the old one I wasn't happy with. And I needed to change the width to height ratio, to fit onto a tea towel (that one's in the pipeline...). So here's the new version, as a print. You can find it in my Etsy shop, linked here

There are currently eight white horses carved onto Wiltshire hillsides. Perhaps the best known are the Westbury Horse which you'll see if you're on the train from Salisbury to Bath; or the Cherhill one which you pass on the A4, the old coaching road and main route between London and Bristol. But there's also Alton Barnes in the Vale of Pewsey's crop circle and UFO heartland; and Devizes, Pewsey, Marlborough, Hackpen and Broadtown.

And it would be positively rude to miss out Uffington, by far the oldest of all the chalk figures, even though it's in Oxfordshire these days.

I've taken liberties with the topography, distances between and orientation of the horses, which don't all lie on southerly-sloping hills in real life. But at least they're more or less in the right relative positions. Vaguely...

There's also scenes from the area's past and present involving horse; the Kennet and Avon canal, with a horse preparing to haul a narrowboat; Wayland the smith shoeing a horse up on the Downs near Uffington; the Wadworth brewery dray which still delivers their beer around the Devies area.

St Brynach's Cuckoo

Outside the church of St Brynach, in Nevern, Pembrokeshire, is a fine celtic cross. On the saint's feast day, April 7th, the first cuckoo of the year will be heard calling from the top of the cross.

But we were there the day before, and missed it. So I've drawn it instead.

In the past, we've heard the cuckoos of the Nevern valley calling in the distance, from the Parrog, where we used to go camping at Easter.

But this was my first visit to the church at Nevern.

The churchyard was full of wild garlic and yew trees

Up the hill from the church are these steps, worn smooth into the rock by the feet of pilgrims on their way to St David's.

And back down in the churchyard, here's the bleeding yew.

the Aldermaston Wharf Tea Rooms

Aldermaston Wharf is a lively spot on the Kennet and Avon Canal in Berkshire; ABC hireboats operate from there, and these rather fine tea rooms, that I've just done this picture of. There's prints of it over in my Etsy shop, and it's one of six postcards in my latest set.

ice on the canal

The last few days have been very cold; my thermometer showed a ground temperature dropping to -12C overnight. And the canal is frozen over, up to IC5-6 on the Canal Ice Scale.

But boaters need to stay warm, and not all of them can get to a coal merchant and carry sacks back to their boats. So there are fuel boats serving the canals. But the West End of the Kennet and Avon, from the bottom of the Caen Hill locks below Devizes to Bath, didn't have a working boat after the last operators stopped, last year.

So the folk at Bradford Wharf Services,* in conjunction with charity Floaty Boat, have organised fuel runs on Ishtar, crewed by volunteers. Here they are in action; they arrived here in Bathampton on Wednesday, and breasted up on my boat overnight as the light was failing.

Shortly after setting off on Thursday morning, they had to stop; the ice was just too thick. We're all waiting for the thaw now.

*this is a link for ordering fuel for your boat; there's also an option for 'paying it forward', where you can put in funds for fuel for boaters who can't afford it.

Saint Roch in the forest

Saint Roch caught the Plague while ministering to its victims in Piacenza, Italy; he retired into the forest, where a virtuous dog brought him bread and licked his sores until he was healed. So Roch ended up beatified, but nobody remembers the dog's name. Unlike Saint Guinefort, a greyhound whose story is very similar to that of the welsh dog Gelert, and who became a folk saint (that is, popular with the people, not so much with the Church).

I based Roch on a person who lived in the woods on the canalside until recently; and the dog is Bobby, another boaty neighbour's companion. I like the idea of using rather more contemporary models for saints; like my version of Melangell, who was a bit of a hunt sab in her day, but is usually portrayed a bit drippily.