Watching the Supermoon rise over Shedland – 1st January 2018 – an auspicious start to the New Year…

Full Circle Moon.

and next phase…

Well, I’ve enjoyed my last walk of December, in fact the Old Year – and I’m delighted to report that my ‘secret’ Champion Wild Campion is still in the pink on New Year’s Eve 2017.

December’s pink stars come out in the dark.

This seemingly fragile yet determined flower has continued to blossom through the foulest of Winter weather – gale-force winds, snow, frozen rain, heavy rain – even flashes of lightning earlier this evening! And though the days are short and chilly – it miraculously keeps on flowering… 

Windswept Wild Campions flowering in the dark in a secret location on New Year’s Eve 2017.

‘In the pink’ December’s bravest flower.

Happy New Year X

* * * * * * * *

Friday 5th December 2018.

“The Grass withereth, the Flower fadeth, but the Word of God shall stand for ever.”  My last Ebay acquisition of 2017 and first ‘through the door’ 2018.

Just as the beautiful hand-painted words concealed behind olde glass prophesieth – my miraculous Champion Wild Campion is withering and fading too.  

At 21:27 on the 4th of January 2018 – just one tattered flower remaineth… 

Touching magic while it lasteth.

A Boxing Day TRIP – to experience the ‘Festival of Light’ at Longleat, Wiltshire.

On what was possibly the wettest day of the festive season – 26th December 2017. Someone’s inside-out umbrella abandoned in a bin.  I didn’t have an umbrella – or a coat and got soaked through – but it didn’t matter…

The heavy rain couldn’t hope to dampen MY spirits because through my eyes – it only enhanced the LIGHT more – by reflecting it in the lakes of puddles.

At fifty-odd – I was suddenly a girl again; like Alice stepping through the looking glass into childhood’s world of magic and make-believe. Longleat had been transformed into a giant pop-up book of all the classic, best-loved Grimm’s fairy tales – laid flat for everyone to wander through.  These are just some of MY HIGH-LIGHTS…

Touching MAGIC and MAGIC touching me.  The wall of Sleeping Beauty’s Castle…

Despite ice-cold hands and fingers that had lost their ability to function properly – I determined to make a short film in the thorny enclosure that encircled Sleeping Beauty’s Castle… To capture the MAGIC forever – and to especially record the beautiful hypnotic but ‘nameless’ soundtrack of the ‘moment’ that played continuously on a loop…
The buffeting wind, biting rain and intermittent roars of a huge fire-breathing dragon over my shoulder – were all part of it. I felt like I was under some sort of enchantment – frozen by time – and elements. The ‘moment’ lasted longer than the fifty-nine seconds recorded, I’m certain of that – maybe even a hundred years… 

Meantime, my two rain-soaked sons retreated into ‘Costa’ – seemingly with everybody else – it was chock-a-block! Not my scene at all – everything and everybody was steaming like the contents of the huge plastic cups on offer – YUK! 

Eventually – I retreated into the comfort of an Edwardian Christmas in the main House – where I warmed my frozen hands on the hearth in the Great Hall. Again, I was transported to another time, another place -another century.  No photography allowed in the house – but I did sneak one last shot of the unforgettable ‘Festival of Fairy Tale Lights’ through the misted, listed window. A FANTASTIC ALL-ROUND TRIP.

* * * * * * * * * *

My special Christmas Mistletoe scarf drying out on the dash on the two hour journey back to Devon – thank god for the heated seats!

Completely COLOUR-FAST hand-blocked pure silk scarves and other beautiful hand-printed things available here.

Detail.

Happiness is being stuck in my son’s luxury car in heavy traffic inside the ‘Big Cat’ enclosure at Longleat on Boxing Day – with an ‘unopened’ tin of M&S shortbread biscuits close at hand! The rain dribbling down my firmly shut side-window – obscured almost all hope of seeing anything furry moving through the trees – apart from a huge tiger – WOW! 

Stuck at a box junction.

The only other furry thing in full view all the time – was my ‘lovey’ hot water bottle dumped on the dash!I didn’t need my cuddlesome comforter with the luxury of a heated, leather car seat! We were very content despite being stuck on the Longleat ‘dual-carriageway’ for an indeterminable length of time. Although, I think they are going to have to consider turning it into a three-lane carriageway eventually – then four and counting – until one day there’ll be no room left for the big puddicats to roam – sounds like the real World on the other side of the high fence! We were happily entertained in our cosy cocoon listening to ‘Heart’, munching a whole tinful of bickies between three – and ‘People Watching’! It was like feeding time at the zoo – only us humans were the captives. Entering ‘Wolf Wood’ we observed a whole tube of ‘Pringles’ being wolfed down not by a wolf – but by a trapped occupant in a ‘passing’ stationary car; we undertook them!  Thank god no one needed to use the ‘facilities’ – especially post-Christmas dinner!!!

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Moving swiftly on but in reverse…  

Warning: Low Flying Bananas…

We’d earlier enjoyed a couple laps around the Monkey circuit. The monkeys are the stars of Longleat – they are so endearing and so naturally funny – that seeing any other wildlife has to be a bonus…the ancient trees around the park are pretty awesome and spectacular too.

Ah so cute – and so wet! I wanted to open the window and let ‘Monkey-Paws’ in the warm – I didn’t though!!!!

After a thoroughly entertaining drive-thru safari – we got to see some amazing wildlife on foot – a whole host of animals that came out after dark. Bears, owls, deer, wolves – in fact a whole ark-full complete with flood water! 

P.S.  Oh yes – and we got to see a herd of resting Zebra!

Continues in part two…

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Some happy monkey vibes from Coldplay…

A Christmas Eve walk in ‘Shedland’ – 24th December 2017.

The above green ‘phenomenon’ is a photograph taken at a very special doorway. The ‘yule log’and the green shaft of LIGHT mark the threshold into ‘Shedland’ – ‘my’ magic wood where I found three cast Red Deer antlers – a ‘pair’ in 2016 and one earlier this year in mid-April. It is the first time I have ventured into the wood since the end of the shed-hunting season in late Spring. Today’s ramble was my Christmas Eve treat to gather a few sprigs of Holly and listen to the chorus of birdsong at dusk. I snapped two magnificent—beneficent stags through the trees, but in dimsy light my camera couldn’t hope to capture them – not even their beautiful white-tipped antlers which were huge! Can’t wait for Spring…

Just seeing the stags and being in their majestic presence was magic enough for me; they made my walk – my Christmas Eve.  When I came home – I uploaded my stag-less shots – and ‘something’ thrilled me!I just love it when ‘I’ pick up something magical and inexplicable – it’s as thrilling as picking up a huge cast antler itself!

Shedland at home time…

Take one wholesale-sized square box of freshly cut Mistletoe, two up-cycled hanging baskets (tie together) place on a rusty old wrought iron plant stand – fill with said Mistletoe – add a string of battery-operated lights – place in a cool window…

and simply switch on!

Thank you once again – To ‘KissMe Mistletoe’ for delivering a beautiful big box brimming with super-springy sprigs of Worcestershire’s finest Mistletoe – it arrived bang-on-time today – 22nd December 2017.

Mmmmmmistletoe! It’s just so beautifully peppery to press one’s nose into when freshly cut.

I LOVE my present to me!

Globe light all a-whizz at The Bath Christmas Market – or a symbol of a bubble about to burst?

Within its safety ring of steel and concrete blockades – Bath’s Christmas Market on Saturday 9th December 2017 – was a-fizz with festive fare and fun – but not for all…

Bath’s street angels in yellow jackets.

I couldn’t help thinking to myself, whilst I shuffled and dodged in-between the merry masses – how on earth can our planet go on sustaining so many people, including lil ole me and my two? As a microcosm – Bath seemed to me to be near bursting point – a victim of its own success perhaps? My Christmas-loving eldest son who lives in Bath and commutes to Bristol daily – EVEN commented how he was looking forward to the roads getting back to relative normality once all the little wooden chalets were packed away ‘under the Abbey stairs’ for another year.  

The direct look on the ashen face of this ten foot tall, wraith-like angel outside the Abbey’s main door seemed to bore into my mind…

“You are all doomed!” I heard her say.  She was actually a brilliant actress from a theatre company (Unfortunately I don’t know which theatre company?)  she was very obliging, and friendly – and posed beautifully for the shot.

On a brighter, sparklier note – the Christmas lights of Bath lifted my spirits no end – and none shone more brightly than my son’s own beautiful tree…

A heartwarming sight.  My son’s ten-footer all beautifully decorated by himself and his two flat-mates, whilst in the foreground his laundered school shirts neatly hung out to dry – in preparation for Monday’s start again…

‘The Heart of Bath’ at the end of the penultimate day for this years Christmas Market for 2017.

I didn’t really buy anything at the Christmas Market – although I still managed to spend too much – on various causes and things to eat – and a sprig of Bath home-grown Mistletoe!  One keepsake that I did buy was a cd from a busker – his voice rose above the madding crowd. It happens when I go to Bath – that there always seems to be a sound rather than a thing that I take home as a soundtrack of the ‘day’ – and this night it was the voice of brilliant blues musician – ‘The Journey-Man’.

Dan the Man – The Voice.

An essential purchase; two metres of finest velvet purple ribbon from a shop that’s a feast for the eyes at any time of year…

Highly recommended – V V Rouleaux – Bath’s beautiful ribbon emporium at the top of the hill.

My last stop was ‘The Circus’ to stand in the magic ring of five mature Plane Trees that reach as high – even higher – than the grand houses that encircle their breathing space.  It was the perfect place to wish upon a ‘star’…  

Star of Wonder.  The last living leaf resiliently hanging-on in the chillest of December winds.

Glow-in-the-dark Plane leaf. (No special settings or enhancements – just auto flash – and some olde Yuletide magic!)

A Christmas wish come true! A much wanted scarce edition from ‘The Mad Librarian’ Bath. Not bought on the night – but on Tuesday 12th. December 2017 via the wonder of the Internet. I’d been wishing for a copy of this book all year – thank you Circus Trees!

Glastonbury’s own jolly Greenman!  “Oyez, Oyez, Oyez – it’s Dave Greenway!”  Glastonbury’s Town Crier about to make a public announcement outside St. John’s Church – Saturday 9th December 2017.

Once upon a time, whilst sampling the delights and delicacies of Glastonbury – my sons noticed some rather special pasties in the baker’s shop window labelled as ‘Glastonbury Pasties’.  Curious—and hungry, my eldest son went inside and queried what it was that made the difference between the filling of a ‘Glastonbury Pasty’ and that of the traditional Cornish variety? The girl serving behind the counter, imparted in a rich Bristolian accent, that the filling of a ‘Glastonbury Pasty’ was “er…beef, er…onions, and potatoes.” and with no more er—ing – left it at that with a sweet smile! Rather nonplussed by the lack of any mention of any other ingredients – secret or otherwise – my son bought two yummy cakes instead – and rejoined myself and younger son who were waiting outside with bated breath for the great demystification of what makes a regular pasty a ‘Glastonbury Pasty’! Needless to say the incident of ‘The Glastonbury Pasty’ has become an amusing—and affectionately recounted anecdote – repeated by elder son in his best Brizzle accent every-time we pass the baker’s window – on our numerous trips to our favourite Zummerset town!  

The ‘Glastonbury Pie’ ready for serving on Sunday 10th December 2017 with a GERT LUSH dollop of Morrison’s Best Extra Thick Jersey Cream!

Inspired by ‘The Legend of The Glastonbury Pasty’ – I made my own vegetarian variation in the shape of a heart-shaped ‘Glastonbury Pie’. Made with some half-rotten windfalls I’d gathered from the Avalon Orchard – at the foot of Glastonbury Tor – on Saturday 9th December 2017…

Putting my finger – or fingers on Glastonbury’s secret ingredient.

‘The Glastonbury Pie’ is filled with one-hundred percent er…apples (Avalon Apples) plus a bit of er…sugar – plus an odd clove or two… 

Then sprinkled with fairy-dust (more sugar) and decorated with a sprig of festive Mistletoe – or Mizzletoe! ‘The Glastonbury Pie’ ready for the oven.

Of course it goes without saying that anything and everything ‘Glastonbury’ has one secret, indefinable ingredient – or essence – that it’s impossible to give an exact name to – so I simply call ‘it’ – ‘MAGIC’.

Dreamy Glastonbury Tor aglow in Dusky Pink. Late-afternoon 9-12-2017.

Culinary perfection…

Here are the other magic ingredients that went into the making of Sunday’s feast…

Witnessing the miracle of ‘The Holy Thorn’ blossoming on a grey, bitterly cold, winter’s day – at St. John’s Church, Glastonbury.

Stopping by the memorial of poppy wreaths for ‘The Fallen’ outside St. John’s Church. And lighting a candle inside the church in memory of my late father who bravely fought in the War – and against the illness that ended his life on the 6th January 2017.  The apples that I gathered (and stewed) from the Avalon Orchard at the same time last year – gave my Father strength in his last days. X

Absorbing some Light and Colour through Olde Glass…

Detail from The South Sanctuary Window – ‘The Arms of Joseph of Arimathea’  inside The Church of St John the Baptist, Glastonbury.

Adding a dash of Arthurian Legend.  Is this ewer or vessel – a depiction of the actual ‘Holy Grail’?

And a little flurry of snow! A sparkling, handmade tree decoration inside St. John’s that caught my eye…

….reminiscent of Dartmoor’s snow-topped tors on the way up.

Adding a touch of sensory spice.  A visit to my favourite Glastonbury Emporium-Mmmmmmm, ‘Star Child’ for some delicious incense to smoke us – not ‘The Pie’!

Outside and In.  Marveling at Mother Nature’s Wonders…my most heaven-sent hour of the trip.

This ‘shell of an apple’ looked for all the World like a Pomegranate.  It was a beautiful sculpture to hold – and to behold.

Gathering and Carrying…

Washing and Wishing…if only Jessie (my horse) was still here – she’d have eaten all the peelings – rotten bits and all!

‘December’s Harvest’.  Enough for seconds over the festive period!

And blowing a kiss over a Winter’s hedge…

Above – “Good-bye until next time…” Glastonbury’s own magnetic Tor snapped through the car window as we set-off on our merry way to the ‘Bath Christmas Market’ – arriving at nightfall. To be continued…

A dreamy snapshot taken “At the going down of the sun…” 12th November 2017, a day to remember… 

A spectator afoot the glittering pavement…

…as the annual procession of light and sound wends its merry way through a Devon village.  4th. November 2017.

Here in Devon – November heralds that time of year when torchlight processions take to the streets – as local people come out in a show of togetherness and time-honoured tradition – to shake a fist at the quickening nights and long, cold Winter months ahead…

One of my simple remedies to combat the enveloping darkness – is to go in search of shafts of light through multicoloured glass…

With a visit to the Church of St James – Iddesleigh.  Saturday – 4th. November 2017.

On a cold day like yesterday – the temperature inside was almost as invigorating as it was outside – yet the atmosphere was warm still with the memory of all those that have worshipped at St James for centuries to the present day – it was like they had all just popped out!

Everything was immaculate, gleaming – loved. 

The ‘Narnia’ lamp post on the corner of St James.

St. James stands in an enviable position – upon a windswept corner plot that looks towards Dartmoor in the distance. Its position alone makes it a favourite place to visit – but nevermore memorable than on this blowy November afternoon; low Sun through old glass is magical.

The Dartmoor Window – St James Iddesleigh.

For me – St James’ leading light is a stained glass window to the right of the altar – which is after William Holman Hunt’s ‘The Light of the World’. 

A stained glass window after my favourite painting…

Adoration of the original painting in Keble College Chapel – Oxford.

The colours of ‘The Light of the World’ warming cold stone.

Their beauty, intricacy and everlasting clarity and depth of colour – spaketh volumes above the internal silence of the church…

Under three hares…

Through the keyhole…

Over timeworn cobbles…

Back out through the porch – and down a step into the Glory of the Great Outdoors.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Better to light a candle than curse the darkness.”

Before first consciousness – I think I must have imbibed an affinity with places off the beaten track – and horses.  More than half-a-century on – I wouldn’t describe myself as traditionally horsey – because really it was just one horse I was ever truly, deeply, mad about. 

The house where I was born. The granite staddle stones are still there to this day – no wonder I have a thing about toadstools too!

My birthplace was Pensilva near Bodmin Moor – in a house reputedly haunted by a benevolent ghost called, Squire Pollard.  My mother once saw him through the gaps in the old oak floorboards upstairs – he was sitting in the parlour below – drinking ale and puffing on a clay pipe.  Another strange account was a dream my mother had before she ever stepped foot in the house.  She dreamt of the exact door to the room that I was born in – only in her dream she saw the words ‘Morte Bar’ inscribed on the door.  No wonder I was often referred to as a changeling child – especially as I was willful by nature with a tendency to scowl a lot! 

At night wild ponies came down from the moor – and whinnied and galloped about just beyond the bottom of our garden.  In the sixties – Pensilva was an isolated place to bring up a young family especially in contrast to Sussex where my parents and older siblings had moved from.  Needless to say – my Mother always felt unease about the house where I was born – and it wasn’t long before they upped sticks again – and moved to Devon – the place where I grew up and have lived ever since.  

Many, many years on – I realised my dream of owning my own horse – a ‘Dales’ called Wath Jewel – or Jessie for short.  

Even though she’s long gone to horsey heaven – I often dream that we hack out together.  It’s a wonderful ‘experience’ to awake from – like having all the fun of owning a horse but without the expense or hard work that goes into looking after a horse – not that Jessie was ever – EVER hard work – she was a complete joy and I still miss her warm breath and gentle ways. I even dream that I can smell her – that sweet cocktail of sweat and leather – and hay.  Not surprisingly there are lots of places roundabout that bring back memories of our jaunts together – old haunts that we revisit in my dreams like it was yesterday – all bar one that is. 

Only a few days ago – whilst enjoying a night ramble – I suddenly had an urge to take a series of photographs of an entrance to a road ‘unsuitable for motors’ that we used to ride up – gallop up – at full pelt to the high ridge…I’ve passed this lane entrance many times ‘since’ but never have I had the want to photograph it – because all the pictures of that bright, springlike afternoon are in my head – not able to be shared here or anywhere – because they don’t exist in photographic form. They wouldn’t be appropriate anyway – too graphic. 

The relationship that developed between us was something special. Jessie was a living, breathing Black Beauty – definitely more human than horse. Some might say that’s putting an anthropomorphic spin on things – but it is true.  I trusted her with every fibre of my being – I never had cause to wear a hat when out on her – and besides I enjoyed the wind in my hair as much as she did. We understood each others thoughts – and communicated freely.  I can’t really put into words how one actually talks ‘horse’ – but we were on the same frequency from day one.

On a long rein, I’d often let her take me for a ride…

On the 25th February 1998 – she took me to the road ‘unsuitable for motors’ – a forgotten ‘road’ off the beaten track. We’d been there on other occasions – to enjoy the freedom of a good gallop up its zig-zag course.  Jessie, when given the choice – usually preferred to go on a more leisurely outing where she could stop and nibble at the Devon hedgerows and graze the grass verges; ours was an easy-going relationship – where her enjoyment was of equal importance.  On this particular day – she was on a mission – she didn’t even try to snatch a mouthful from the hedge.  Jessie when she wanted to – could go like the wind – and after an exhilarating gallop up the length of the track – we soon reached the plateau at the far end – a good place to ‘pull’ on the brakes before rejoining the metalled road.   

Unusually – an ‘abandoned’ white car was facing us at the top of the lane.  Slowly moving towards it – I became aware that a person was sitting inside – most likely enjoying an afternoon nap in the life-affirming sunshine. Suddenly I felt intrusive.  In ‘slow-motion’ – over a distance of a hundred yards or so –  I gradually perceived that the occupant – a women with her mouth and eyes wide open – was not sleeping – but dead.  There was no immediacy for me to respond – she had visibly been inside her sun-drenched car too long; there was no need to dismount. Calmly and without stopping we walked-on by – relieved that life-saving intervention was not necessary – there was nothing to be done other than to raise an ‘alarm’ in the nearby sleepy hamlet.  It was only as I glanced back – seeing the ‘paraphernalia’ attached to the exhaust of the car – that I realised that the person had taken their own life.  What I saw that day – never touched me – due to my absolute belief in the protective power of Iron – Jessie’s four shoes had formed a barrier between us.  A barrier between us and the ground – the car on the ground – and her inside it. 

Her estranged husband – a farmer and part-time gravedigger – was supposed to find her when he checked his sheep that morning – but he never did check his sheep that day – because he had a funeral to attend and he’d been running late…

The ‘paraphernalia’ attached to the exhaust of the car had been ‘borrowed’ from the milking parlour to use in a final act of imploded anger – and revenge – over her disputed share of the farm and land. The cows were milked – but the sheep fended for themselves that morning – and probably for the rest of the day that unravelled. 

The one image I retain – are her hands – forever stuck at ‘ten to two’ on the steering wheel – in a determined grip of self-will. Coincidentally about the time of day that we found her. I understand that she took her own life in the night – before the morning – before that fateful afternoon.  

It’s okay that occasionally I find myself turning into that lane again – galloping up to the ridge – to where there’s a white car parked at the side…

…but never – EVER – when I’m dreaming. 

Posted on 31-X-2017 – All Hallows’ Eve – a date to remember the Dead.  (A chocolate Halloween treat from Sandfords Bakery in Great Torrington!)

The veil between the Living and the Dead is wafer-thin – or ‘Morte Bar’ as I’ve come to realise it.

Under a Tulip tree – Bath Canal – late Summer 2011.

My eldest son has enjoyed his first half-term after starting school again…

He is 24 years old and a trainee teacher. He never did return home after University – the day I dropped him off at the halls of residence was the day he left home.  The 25th of September 2011 was a scorcher – in more ways than one. Golden like the city of Bath itself – that in my mind is a place that’s forever bathed in Light – and Love.  After a rushed good-bye – I ventured into the city centre with my youngest son – to look for ‘something’ I could hold onto – to remember the day.  I didn’t know what I was looking for – but I didn’t find it in any of the shop windows.

Instead of a thing – I followed a ‘ting’ that I’d heard above the busy throng of Sunday shoppers. My souvenir of the day was a soundtrack played by these guys who were busking that day. Danny Cudd and Markus Johannson – together they are ‘Hang Massive’ – and my soundtrack of the day was – is – ‘Once Again’.

Play it once again – and again – and again… 

And now – whenever I hear ‘ting ting’ – I’m immediately transported back to that far-off golden day – that’s still as intense in my mind as sunlight streaming through a Tulip tree.

One of several golden images of a place – a day.

* * * * * * * * * * *

My boys taking in the rays at Baggy Point – North Devon Coast. 27-X-2017

This half-term I have enjoyed a golden day out with my boys to Baggy Point on the North Devon Coast.  An unhurried walk up to the Point from Croyde – passing some old Whale bones on the way – and back.

All that remains of a large whale that was washed up on Croyde beach in 1915.  This moving relic of the Sea is firmly anchored at the side of the path that leads to the Point.

The whale bones were preserved at the side of the path by the Hyde family – for the benefit of ALL visitors.  They gave the Bones – and Baggy Point – to the National Trust in 1939.  I thought – cor wouldn’t I just love to have it in my bone collection!!! 

Moving on – and to The Point – I saw something else in the grass that was acquirable – just – and not for my bone collection but my stone collection.  A beautiful Witch’s Heart lying on the edge of a slope that dropped away to the sea…  

Witch’s Heart at Baggy Point.

My eldest son gallantly volunteered to pick it up for me – as it was placed a lot more precariously than it looks in this photo – a bit of a cliff hanger in fact!  

I love the way the Witch’s Heart fits my hand – and my hand fits the Witch’s Heart.  

XXXX….

And so another half-term passes into Golden Light…

Sun and Sea off Baggy Point – 27-X-2017

* * * * * * * * * * *

“Nature’s Give and Take” a post inspired by a Soundtrack, a Whale, a Witch’s Heart, a line from a Poem – all of a Poem – and my grown-up, eldest son – Archie.  

Walking Away – Cecil Day Lewis

It is eighteen years ago, almost to the day –
A sunny day with leaves just turning,
The touch-lines new-ruled – since I watched you play
Your first game of football, then, like a satellite
Wrenched from its orbit, go drifting away

Behind a scatter of boys. I can see
You walking away from me towards the school
With the pathos of a half-fledged thing set free
Into a wilderness, the gait of one
Who finds no path where the path should be.

That hesitant figure, eddying away
Like a winged seed loosened from its parent stem,
Has something I never quite grasp to convey
About nature’s give-and-take – the small, the scorching
Ordeals which fire one’s irresolute clay.

I have had worse partings, but none that so
Gnaws at my mind still. Perhaps it is roughly
Saying what God alone could perfectly show –
How selfhood begins with a walking away,
And love is proved in the letting go. 

(Written by Cecil Day Lewis for his eldest son – Sean.)