Classic Rolls Royce cars parked in Dulwich Village

Well Readers, as an East/North Londoner it’s always a bit daunting crossing the river, especially when one has to catch an actual train instead of a tube. But here we are in Dulwich, for a trip to the Dulwich Picture Gallery. We’re here to see their current exhibition of American photographs (highly recommended by the way), but I keep getting distracted. How about this tree, for example?

Persian Silk Tree (Albizia julibrissin)

It’s not until I noticed the ‘beans’ that I remembered that this tree is actually a member of the Bean family (Fabaceae). It’s also known as Mimosa, although for me that name refers to the yellow-flowered tree that grows on one of the County Roads. As a Fellow of the Linnean Society, all I can say is ‘thank heavens for binomial nomenclature’.

Dulwich really is very posh. There are nice cafes everywhere, and everyone looks very well-groomed and put-together. No doubt this isn’t the case for everyone, but I imagine it’s a very nice place to live if you can afford it. It’s also home to a number of famous private schools, such as Dulwich College and Alleyn’s School. Alleyn’s was named for Edward Alleyn, the Elizabethan actor – in his time, he was ranked second only to Richard Burbage,  though Alleyn was most famous for his roles in the plays of Christopher Marlowe, such as Dr Faustus and Tamberlaine. This last role involved dashing his brains out on the bars of the cage that held him captive, which must have been quite something to behold. He set up ‘ The College of God’s Gift’ in Dulwich, which owned most of the land in the area, and which turned into the private colleges. There’s a rather nice statue of him in front of the Old College.

Edward Alleyn and William Allen Sculpture By Louise Simson

Dulwich Picture Gallery is the oldest public art gallery in England – it was designed by Sir John Soane, and has an extraordinary collection of paintings, by everyone from Constable and Gainsborough through Veronese and Fragonard.

Main Gallery (Photo By Bridgeman at German Wikipedia, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7681629)

It also has a very nice caff (important for when your feet are swelling on a  hot day) and a sculpture garden outside. I rather liked this sculpture, by Laura Ford: it’s a response to Marino Marini’s sculpture ‘The Angel of the City’, a very grandiose, masculine piece. I love the sense of ‘My Little Pony’ in Ford’s sculpture, plus the sense of stalemate rather than victory. See what you think.

Laura Ford, ‘My Little Marini’

Marino Marini, ‘The Angel of the City’

The stones in the photo below were left behind when a Finnish glacier melted, more than 10,000 years ago – they’re known as ‘Glacial Erratics’. What a great phrase! Sculptor Peter Randall-Page has preserved the stones’ original shapes, but has added a ‘meandering’ pattern, which echoes the frieze on the Picture Gallery. The sculpture is called ‘Walking The Dog I, II and III’

This piece is called ‘Waking Matter’ and uses ‘surplus’ Carrera marble from Italy – it’s by Amy Stephens. You are invited to walk under it, which fills me with some trepidation I must say. It looks a little too like a guillotine to me.

Anyway, we had a lovely time ‘south of the river’, and, indeed, we were so impressed with the exhibition that I’ve signed us up as Friends – the next exhibition is the Hokusai ‘Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji’ which I managed to miss when it was at the British Museum recently, so it felt as if it might be worth it. If you’re in the area (or even if you’re not) do pop in. I can recommend the vanilla doughnuts in the cafe too.

Dear Readers, I’ve been keeping a close eye on our toothless, fourteen year-old, recently adopted cat during the many, many heatwaves that we’ve been having. It’s been bad enough being a human when the temperature comes close to a hundred degrees Fahrenheit, so I couldn’t begin to imagine what it was like to be completely covered in long fur. However, Abbie seems to like the heat for most of the time, seeking out the hottest parts of the house, and only occasionally throwing herself onto the floorboards for a cool-down.

She is a very stately lady for most of the time, but occasionally she takes it into her head to throw around a toy mouse, and then she sometimes falls asleep cuddling it.

She loves to be brushed, which is just as well – she’s had a few episodes of being sick, which I think are largely down to the hair that she’s ingested when she’s been cleaning herself. We’ve been feeding her a half and half mixture of Sheba and Digestive Sensitivity food, but today we’re moving onto just the Sensitivity stuff, which seemed a bit bland for her taste  – the first time we served it, she gave us one of those ‘what on earth is this?’ looks and walked away in disgust. Fortunately she’s eaten it all this morning, so fingers crossed.

‘What the hell is this?’

She also seems to know to the minute when it’s time for her evening feed, and fixes me with a death-stare. If that doesn’t work, she adds in a plaintive miaow, as below. Poor starved cat who nobody feeds!

Anyhow, it’s fair to say that she’s settled in nicely, though she was extremely cross on Tuesday when we shut her in a room for an hour while the cleaner was here with her scary vacuum cleaner. Upon being released, she hissed at my poor husband (who is the one that usually feeds her, by the way), and continued to hiss at him every time she saw him for twenty-four hours. However, they’re back on good terms now, so fingers crossed the rapprochement continues. She really is a very fine cat indeed.

A new carnivorous plant – the Candelabra Saxifrage (Saxifraga candelabrum) Image Zhang et al

Dear Readers, when I think about carnivorous plants my mind goes to Venus Flytraps and Sundews and Pitcher Plants. What they share is that they live in low nutrient environments, such as bogs, or are epiphytes, so they grow on other plants without parasitising them. However, increasingly scientists are looking at alpine plants, particularly saxifrages,  to see if they get some of their food by trapping insects, a train of thought that has a history dating back to none other than Charles Darwin himself. The soil in alpine regions is often thin and lacking in nutrients, and so this is another area where ‘eating’ insects might be useful for the plants.

Darwin had long observed that some plants had sticky leaves which seemed to trap insects, and he wondered if the plants gained any benefit from this. He took  two species of Saxifrage which had those sticky leaves – Pyrenean Saxifrage (Saxifraga umbrosa ) and Round-leaved Saxifrage (Saxifraga rotundifolia,) and dipped their leaves into  infusions of raw meat and solutions of ammonia, to see if the leaves would absorb them. Darwin observed that the colour of the cells in the leaves changed and they became more turgid, showing that they’d taken up the fluids. From this, he deduced that some plants, without being completely carnivorous, were able to utilise insects as a source of nutrients, and that this was much more widespread throughout the plant kingdom than had previously been thought. However, the technology at the time wasn’t able to  prove Darwin’s hunch.

This week, experiments on the Candelabra Saxifrage (Saxifraga candelabrum), a close relative of the plants Darwin was studying,  have shown that the plant does indeed catch insects and digest them. Firstly, the team from the Chinese Academy of Sciences noticed that individual plants could have up to 70 small insects trapped on their leaves and stems (larger insects, more useful for pollination, don’t get stuck).

The scientists investigated the chemicals contained in the hairs that trapped the insects, to see if they were capable of digesting the insects – they were. Then, by infusing insect prey with a nitrogen isotope, it was found that the nutrients from the digested insect were taken up by the plant. Finally, genetic analysis showed that the Saxifrage shared genes with other carnivorous plants, which controlled nutrient uptake and digestion.

Research is going forward on other saxifrages. I wonder if scientists could also have a look at the Teasel? I’ve long suspected that this plant might be able to digest the insects that fall into the ‘baths’ at the base of the leaves. And there are probably plenty more plants that can utilise nutrients from insects without being completely reliant on them. Watch this space!

The New Scientist article is here

The research paper is here.

The eclipse through a colander!

Dear Readers, it was a perfect evening for eclipse-watching on Wednesday. Lots of people headed for Hampstead Heath or Alexander Palace, or even further afield, but I really wanted to be quiet and just watch without other folk around.

As the light started to change, it lit up all the spiders’ webs on the mahonia and the lilac. I love the way that things you wouldn’t notice suddenly become visible.

But what was most interesting was that, as the light falls, four pigeons land on the gutter above my head. Firstly, feral pigeons never normally frequent the garden, but secondly, they seem to stare at the sun, as if trying to work out what’s going on. I wonder what they can see? I know pigeons can see polarised light, so I’m sure their view of the sun is very different to ours.

So, did you see the eclipse? And did you notice anything unusual?

Image by By Waterced – File:Universe_expansion-en.svg, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=142662712

After Wednesday’s eclipse, I found myself thinking about this extraordinary universe that we live in.

Singularity : a point or region of infinite mass density at which space and time are infinitely distorted by gravitational forces and which is held to be the final state of matter falling into a black hole (Merriam-Webster)

SINGULARITY
by Marie Howe

(after Stephen Hawking)

Do you sometimes want to wake up to the singularity
we once were?

so compact nobody
needed a bed, or food or money —

nobody hiding in the school bathroom
or home alone

pulling open the drawer
where the pills are kept.

For every atom belonging to me as good
Belongs to you.   Remember?

There was no   Nature.    No
them.   No tests

to determine if the elephant
grieves her calf    or if

the coral reef feels pain.    Trashed
oceans don’t speak English or Farsi or French;

would that we could wake up   to what we were
— when we were ocean    and before that

to when sky was earth, and animal was energy, and rock was
liquid and stars were space and space was not

at all — nothing

before we came to believe humans were so important
before this awful loneliness.

Can molecules recall it?
what once was?    before anything happened?

No I, no We, no one. No was
No verb      no noun
only a tiny tiny dot brimming with

is is is is is

All   everything   home

Dear Readers, since I wrote my original post about Echinacea (below) I’ve managed to obtain some for the pots in the front garden, and they are doing remarkably well – clearly they don’t mind the heat, and they are so striking that they’re impossible to ignore when staggering around with a watering can. Apparently growing the plant (also known as Coneflower, but see below) near the house can help to bring prosperity and safety, so the more the merrier.

Incidentally, this plant was formerly known as Rudbeckia, but this name is now given to another coneflower, which has yellow petals and a very prominent  dark-brown centre. Sometimes it’s difficult to keep up with nomenclature!

So, let’s see what I wrote about Echinacea back in 2019, and don’t miss the poem, I think it’s rather fab….

Echinacea purpurea

Dear Readers, this weekend I was at the Bridge Theatre, a new-ish venue founded by Nicholas Hytner, formerly head of the National Theatre. As a venue it had pluses and minuses. Pluses included plentiful ladies toilets (for once) and an auditorium with great sound and excellent sightlines. Downsides included only one hand dryer in each loo, and a cafe with very few tables – most of the seating was on those perching seats which are a trap for the unwary, or those very low three-legged stools that always make me think I should be leaning into the side of a patient, hay-munching Fresian.

However, I digress. We had some time to kill and so I dragged my husband, in the drizzle, through the gardens of Potters Fields.  A potter’s field is usually a pauper’s graveyard, and one of my favourite places in the world, Crossbones Graveyard, is nearby. However, this Potters’ Field appears to have been just that – an area where potters settled in the 17th and 18th Century. The gardens  have been designed by Piet Oudolf, one of my favourite designers – I love those drifts of prairie-style flowers and grasses. At this time of year, however, it’s mainly brown seedheads and rather sad blooms.

And, as we move into the season of the common cold, it seemed appropriate to concentrate this week on one of the plants most commonly invoked as a cure for the sniffles. Echinacea, or purple coneflower, forms part of so many cold remedies these days that I fear Holland and Barrett would go bust if it was proved not to be effective. The plant comes originally from the grasslands of eastern North America, and was used extensively by Native American peoples, though not particularly as a cold remedy: it was thought to be efficacious for the treatment of wounds, burns and insect bites. The root was chewed to alleviate toothache, and it was taken internally as an analgesic. . A specimen of the plant was sent to Thomas Jefferson by Lewis and Clark in 1805, and it was described as ‘Mad Dog Plant’, with the packing list stating that it was

‘“highly prized by the natives as an efficacious remidy in the Cases of the bite of the rattle Snake or “Mad Dog.”‘

Echinacea was also used by native peoples to treat coughs and sore throats, but this seems to have been something of a sideline. 

There have been many studies on the efficacy of echinacea, but the problem has been that they have used different parts of the plant, and often different species (there are ten species of echinacea). However, the conclusion overall from the Cochrane Review, as reported by the BBC Futures team, was that using echinacea might reduce your chance of catching a cold by between 10% and 20% if taken at the first onset of sniffles. I wrote about the common cold a while back, and the one thing that I would advocate is zinc gluconate, taken at the first inkling of a tickly throat. I always have some in the house just in case.

A potential problem with echinacea as a drug is that stimulating the immune system is not always a good thing, particularly for people with auto-immune conditions such as multiple sclerosis or rheumatoid arthritis. In the US, the National Institute for Health advises people with these illnesses not to take echinacea. In 2012 the NHS also recommended not using echinacea for children under 12, because of the small risk of a severe allergic reaction.

One thing that echinacea is definitely good for, however, is the bees and the butterflies. The plant is a member of the daisy family, and as such the ‘flower’ is composed of hundreds of tiny plantlets, some forming the petals and others forming the ‘cone’ that the plant is named for, and the flowerheads are long-lived (as those in Potters Fields prove). The flowers attract the Vanessid butterflies (red admirals, peacocks, small tortoiseshells), and many species of bee, especially bumblebees. My Gardening for Wildlife book suggests that the plant needs full sun and well-drained soil, but that it should be kept well-watered in summer. The seed heads may also attract finches and blue tits.

Peacock butterfly (Aglais io) on echinacea (Public Domain)

Painted lady (Vanessa cardui) on echinacea (Public Domain)

Incidentally, the name ‘echinacea’ comes from the some root as a plant we looked at a few weeks ago, echinops: it means ‘hedgehog’ and refers to the shape of the ‘cone’ in the middle of the flower.

There are many cultivated varieties of echinacea, some of which are trying to persuade the plant to lose its ‘shuttlecock’ appearance – the reflexed petals are seen as being to the detriment of the flower’s appearance. For me, this is one of its strong points – I rather like that pincushion look, and the way that the centre of the bloom is the star of the show. If it had ‘ordinary’ petals, wouldn’t it just look rather like any large single daisy? Stop messing about, people! The plant below is an example of an echinacea where the reflexed petals have been modified. See what you think.

Echinacea purpurea ‘Leuchstern’ (Bright Star) (Photo One)

And finally, a poem. This one is rather tangential to our subject (which is not unusual), but I was very taken by it. The photographer Alfred Stieglitz became the lover of (and eventually married) the artist Georgia O’Keefe. He was obsessed by her, and particularly her hands, taking many photos of them. The poet Barbara Rockman imagines a letter from O’Keefe to Stieglitz, in which she explains exactly who she is. I feel as if Rockman has somehow conjured the spirit of O’Keefe in these few lines. See what you think.

Hands (1919) Alfred Stieglitz (Metropolitan Museum of Art) (Public Domain)

Letter from Georgia O’Keefe to Alfred Stieglitz on Seeing His Photograph of Her Hands

By Barbara Rackman from to cleave

October 4 1919

Be calm, Alfred. No,
I am a plain woman. I rinse dishes,
pull weeds, and unleash the dogs on dirt trails.
I sleep in a narrow bed. I rise early.
These are hands that mix paint,
decipher sky. With these hands
I scratch my head at the improbable.
I twist them under my breasts in sleep.
Fisted against my stomach they fly
from my body in dream. Hands
at the tips of wings, Alfred.
How you splayed my fingers,
insisted I caress the absent forelock,
empty sockets, each stone molar,
imagining the horse’s rough tongue.
I want nothing of death, Alfred, nothing
of absence. These elegant hands cup seeds,
cut back echinacea, snip herbs for the sauce.
They tug knotted shirts from a basket, shake them
into light, clamp them to the line with bleached pins.
What can a man know of a woman’s hands?

Photo Credits

Photo One by James St John at https://www.flickr.com/photos/jsjgeology/39444960851

Dear Readers, I came across an interesting article by author Naomi Alderman last week, and it made me think about the difference that mobile phones in particular, and the internet generally, have made to our ability to concentrate. I know lots of people who don’t use their phones a lot (well done those folk) but for many of us, myself included, it’s become a kind of default activity – on the train, when I’m having a break, it’s so easy to just look at the phone. And there’s always something new and bright and shiny to attract my attention, be it the news, or social media, or yet another round of Mahjong. So I was interested by Alderman’s concept of doing a ‘couch to 5k’, not for exercising the body, but for exercising the mind, and I was also intrigued by the way the whole concept of getting back into reading has taken off. So many people feel that their lives have become much more distracted and fragmented, and that they have lost their ability to focus. I remember several articles about how the author can no longer just sink into a nice fat Victorian novel, or a complex piece of non-fiction, because their phone seems to call to them.

Alderman’s approach is interesting – she outlines three ‘tracks’, one for people who just generally want  to get back into sitting down with a book for half an hour at a time, one for people who are generally time-poor and want to use their limited spare time to read rather than doom scroll, and one for people who want to dive deeper and get back into reading seriously. Then, you build up over eight weeks, in much the same way as you would for a 5k run but without the blisters.

Phone apps are deliberately designed to be addictive, and I sometimes feel the same way that I used to when I’d ‘reward’ myself with a cigarette when I’d done something tricky, or was bored, or just had some time on my hands. But although I’m not actually doing Alderman’s course, I did decide to set myself a reading challenge this year. I used to read the Booker longlist every year – I’m not a great reader of modern fiction, so this was a real chance to catch up with what was going on. And this year, I’ve already got stuck in. I’ve read Elizabeth Strout’s ‘The Things We Never Say’ which is a moving exploration of loneliness – probably not her best book, but one of those where a few words say an awful lot. And now I’m reading ‘The Vivisectors’ – fortunately not about actual vivisection, but instead set on a strange university campus. It is very atmospheric, and from a slow start it is beginning to draw me in. As usual, the one that I most want to read (by Marlon James, who won the Booker in 2014) won’t be published until the beginning of September. I’m looking forward to the range of books that I’ll be reading, and I hope that by the end of it I’ll have weaned myself off of the phone to such an extent that I’m all I’m doing is my Duolingo and an occasional check of my Whatsapp. I’ve taken Facebook off of my phone (though I do still check Bug Woman daily) and dropped Twitter/X ages ago.

So, Readers, what do we think? Have you balanced the undoubted convenience of the mobile phone with retaining an ability to focus? And what are you reading? Do share!

Dear Readers, my trail camera has decided to go on strike, bless it: it won’t let me  change the time that it takes photos, and is currently taking them randomly, whenever it feels the urge, rather than taking them at night when it’s meant to. Maybe it’s as fed up with the hot weather as I am, poor thing.  In spite of all manner of messing about (including turning it off and on again, before anybody asks) it is still defunct.

So, I contact the people who make  it (Browning Trail Cameras) and they are very helpful.

They suggest that I not only turn it on and off again, but also that I remove the batteries and sim card, and put them back in again.

Well it was worth a try, but still no luck.

“I think you should send it to us so we can check it’ says the lovely support person.

I check the address and it’s in Birmingham, so not too bad.

I package it up and look again at the postcode. It’s not Birmingham in the West Midlands, it’s Birmingham, Alabama.

I contact the service  person again, explaining that I’m in the UK.

The service person explains that this is the global service centre and there aren’t any others, but he does understand my concerns. However, they will fix the camera (it’s in warranty, unusually for me), and send it back for free.

Turns out that even a tracked parcel to the US is cheaper than getting a new camera, plus I’d always rather get something repaired if I can, having an innate loathing of putting things in landfill. So let’s see what happens, as my little camera wings its way west. Fingers crossed they can fix it, I’ve gotten rather attached to seeing what’s going on in the garden, even if it is mainly my husband doing the watering.

Partial (70%) solar eclipse from 2021 in Halifax, Canada (Photo By Paulo O from Halifax, Canada – Partial Solar Eclipse, 10 June 2021, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=107861703)

Dear Readers, this Wednesday (12th August) there will be the chance to view a pretty impressive solar eclipse – in London it’s expected that the moon’s shadow will cover 91 percent of the sun at 19.13, whilst if you’re lucky enough to be in Cork in Ireland 96 percent of the sun will be covered. Back in 2024 I was in Toronto for a 99 percent eclipse, but this one promises to be pretty exciting. Plus the next full eclipse in the UK won’t be taking place until 2090, by which time I would be 130 years old. Unlikely.

Last time there was an eclipse in the UK in 1990, 70 people damaged their eyesight by looking at the sun, some of them permanently – 40 percent of those people had looked at the sun for less than a minute. So, the recommendation is to use proper eclipse glasses, though good luck with getting them at this point. I bought some for the Toronto trip, and six months after using them I got a recall notice saying they weren’t up to standard, so do be careful.

If you are in the UK and want to watch the eclipse in the company of astronomers, have a look at the site below, which has some details. Many of them will be hanging around with telescopes to watch the Pleiades meteor shower, which is likely to peak later in the evening, so it’s quite the day for sky watchers.

https://ukeclipse.com/

People in Greenland, Northern Russia, Iceland, Portugal, France and Spain will also be able to see the eclipse (a friend of ours should have an excellent view from Iceland). By the time the eclipse happens it will be quite low in. the western sky, so viewing it over water should give a great view. Wherever you are, though, the sky will darken, birds will become confused and it will feel cooler (no bad thing at the moment). The whole event will take just under two hours, with the moon gradually ‘eating’ the sun and then fading away again. Definitely worth finding a spot that suits your personality – I like to sit quietly and listen to the birds, and watch the light gradually fading, but other more extrovert souls seem to like to party. Whatever floats your boat, for sure! For me, an eclipse is one of those occasions when I’m reminded of how small we humans are, and for that I like a bit of silence. But let’s see what happens! And happy eclipse watching, if you’re in the right spot to observe it.

Well, Readers, Grosvenor Square used to be synonymous with the US Embassy, which took up one side of this 18th Century garden. In those days, the gardens themselves were basically London Plane trees and lawn, and the security in front of the Embassy made it quite an uncomfortable place to linger. But recently it was re-opened as a climate-resilient, biodiverse garden, supervised by the London Wildlife Trust, and the brainchild of Professor Nigel Dunnett, who died only a few months before the garden was completed. Previously only one percent of the site was planted, but today that’s up to fifty percent, with 70,000 new plants over 63 species, 80,000 bulbs, 44 new trees and even two ponds. In spite of the drought I thought it was looking splendid, though it’s a bit alarming to see the Michaelmas Daisies in full bloom already – I’d normally expect to see them flowering in September.

The planted areas are supplemented by some very nice play areas and stepping stones made out of the remains of trees that have been removed. Some have also been turned into mini climbing walls for the children, or stumperies for the beetles.

The original statues and memorials are still here: there’s Roosevelt…

….Eisenhower

and behind him the re-purposed US Embassy, now a luxury hotel. It still has an eagle with a 35-foot wingspan on the top, though. The original building was by Finnish-American architect Eero Saarinen, and is Grade Ii listed. If you fancy seeing how the other five percent live, you can have a look here. I had a quick look at a short stay in September in the Grand Premier Grosvenor Suite, and it would have put me back 8,270 pounds, so maybe not.

I was a bit surprised to see a statue of Ronald Reagan – although subsequent presidential incumbents have made me the tiniest bit nostalgic for someone who only planned to shoot down nuclear missiles with lasers, I wasn’t sure that he’d done enough to be celebrated in such a way. But apparently it’s for his role in ending the Cold War, in partnership with Margaret Thatcher. Oh well.

There are now also a couple of ponds, this one in front of the 9/11 Memorial to the people who lost their lives in. the Twin Towers.

And the Plane trees are also magnificent. According to some sites, these are only as old as the Second World War, but if so they’ve done remarkably well in a relatively short space of time.

There are also now toilets and a very nice tea stand, plus lots of comfy places to sit. Whilst sipping a Flat White and taking in the view I saw a woman with a Chow Chow dog. She was chatting away on her phone, oblivious, while I watched the dog walk onto a flowerbed and have a crap. Readers, I saw red, so I walked up to her and told her what the dog had done.

“Did he do Poo Poo”? she asked.

Well, yes he did, so we both stood and looked and eventually spotted the aforesaid, and she moved somewhat reluctantly to clean it up. Readers, I don’t know what has happened, but I seem to be much more direct these days. Maybe it’s my age.

I should also say that I smelled more cigar smoke in my walk from Bond Street Station to Grosvenor Square in ten minutes than I’ve done in the past year.

So I headed off to my next appointment (Foyles Bookshop, because I don’t have enough books, clearly), but on the way I passed Claridges, another nice spot if you’ve got a bob or two to throw around. I can’t find out the price of the most expensive rooms, but a corner suite will set you back 6,375 pounds a night, and the cheapest room is about 1800 quid. Maybe best to visit for afternoon tea instead.

Claridges

So there is no doubt that this is the posh end of town, but Grosvenor Square is now a fine place to sit and watch the world go by. I suspect that when those 80,000 bulbs pop up in spring it will be magnificent, so I shall probably come back for another look. In the meantime, do visit if you’re passing. It’s a lovely transformation.