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The above image, of which there are many versions online, is Barbara Remington’s original artwork, for the 1970s LOTR trilogy, as published by Ballantine Books.

It appears to be a single composite image, from which covers for the three sub-sections of the trilogy (Tolkien always wanted it to be one big book; but his publishers insisted it would be better as three) were extracted.

The above map, with a brilliant illustrative border by Babs, was produced as a poster. I must, somehow, some day, have it!

The detail above is rather similar to the detail I picked from the cover, at the top of this post. Which is nice, as it gives this little blog entry some visual and thematic consistency.

I believe that my very first exposure to Remington’s highly individual and enchanting style was this:

My dad had this book, in this very Ballantine edition. I bought a cheap copy off Amazon, for myself, some years back. Not for the writing, which, frankly, I think is pretty dreadful (Orville Prescott thought otherwise!), but instead/solely for the terrific cover.

Anyway, there you go… not a great deal of info, but just a wee celebration of the fabulous Tolkienian art of Barbara Remington.

The house was lovingly restored, in the early twentieth century. All the woodwork and brickwork had been covered over with plasterwork in the 19th Century.

Just watched this rather interesting docudrama. It tells the story, including interview footage with the man himself, of Leonid Berenshtein.

Rather ironically- given that his identity as a Jew, and hiding or revealing that identity, is a crucial elee we met of the film – the version I saw, on Amazon Prime, had the title changed to 1944: Hitler’s Secret Weapon.

I found a thing online under the name of the film’s director, here, and that’s how I came to realise the original and proper title is simply Berenshtein. The painful ironies of history multiply.

Looking around the interweb, it seems that this movie may also go by another name, The Last Partisan. That’s on account of the fact that Leonid himself passed away during the making of this project. Aged 98!

It’s a bit weird, when the movie jumps back and forth between the dramatisations and ‘the present’, as it was a couple of years ago. But overall it’s actually both effective and powerful. And it certainly doesn’t get in the way of this being a cracking good watch.

Another slightly odd thing, especially given the bastardised title of the version I watched, is that both Berenshtein and The Last Partisan are not only better titles, but more accurately reflect the core content.

The actual finding of the V-2 rocket research and development location, which the Prime title implies is the core of the film, ends up hardly featuring at all. And, indeed, they don’t actually find or liberate or destroy it; rather they deduce it’s location, triangulating it via its nigh on impenetrable Dede de cordon. And at the cost of numerous lives.

The bulk of the story is located in the Ukraine, which adds another level of historical irony, given how Berenshtein and his partisans were both Ukrainians and Russians. Whereas now we are seeing those two identities at war, in the same beleaguered lands.

It’s also interesting seeing how the film – an Israeli production – handles both Nazi atrocities, and the dehumanising aspects of war on people, including Berenshtein himself, on both sides.

My recent post about the little rainbow on Teresa’s cheek made think of John Sebastian. And that in turn made me think of the wonderful recordings of the Mud Acres/Woodstock Mountains collective.

This right-on and righteous raggle-taggle crowd of hippies and folk Nik’s would gather at a farm in Woodstock (poss the family of one of the Traum brothers? Arty and Happy, no less), for what one of them memorably described as a ‘party round a microphone’.

After breakfast in bed, I noticed Teresa had a rainbow… on her face! It makes me think of the John Sebastian lyric:

I'll paint rainbows all over your blues

Teresa finally got me out on a walk today. She’s been trying for ages. But I’ve been resistant. Due to the intense depression of recent times. Of course the irony is that a walk is, or certainly can be, pure medicine.

Using the ‘pano’ pic function vertically, on trees, is, I reckon, pretty cool.

The door pictured above is a side entrance to a property (and it’s minuscule garden) that we were quite keen on, when we started looking at houses in March. It’s a fab old stone built place. But it needed a cash-buyer – most probably a builder/developer- with the wherewithal to do a new roof, and lots of other structural stuff.

We walked along the river, from Creek Road, across the High Street, and along the park and back via West End. And what a pleasurable experience it was.

Grey and overcast. But gorgeous nonetheless. What a tonic!

I was up unusually early today. I made Teresa and I French Toast, or eggy-bread, for breakfast.

We then set off, at 9am, southwards, to the Little Gransden Air Show. I kept our destination a surprise, and to my gurt gratification, Teresa was pleased.

We missed our annual trips to the any of the local 1940s shows. So this was kind of making up for that.

The weather on the drive down was sublime. Beautifully sunny, and lovely and warm. Alas, for most of the show itself it was cloudy, with a strong cold wind, and occasional showers. A bit of a test, in all honesty!

Still, there were lots of interesting planes, loads of classic cars (inc a whole fleet of MX5s!), and even some nice motorbikes.

We took a picnic lunch. Brie, baguette, salad, some drinks, etc. It was fun. Despite the less than ideal weather.

We got there about 10.15am; It would’ve been 10, but for the difficulty procuring a baguette on a Sunday morning!

And we stayed till about 3.15pm. So we lasted a good five hours. I wanted to stay to the end, as the climax was a pair of Hurricanes and a B-17.

But after three, exhaustion got the better of me, and I was no longer game for enduring the cold or occasional rain.

I tried to not over spend, as finances remain parlous. But I did buy us some cake, and myself a few vintage 1/72 model kits (not planes!).

We didn’t get the programme. So I might not be able to correctly identify or name the planes and other stuff I photographed. But the main thing was we had a pleasant day out.

Once home, via Wisbech (Teresa bought two punnets of someone’s home-grown Victoria plums!), it was supper (left-over jambalaya), bath, and bed.

I’m so utterly shattered I was a-bed by 7pm! I think that’s my earliest yet?

And, rather sadly – for me, at any rate – I seem to be yo-yo’ing emotionally. They used to call it manic-depressive. Now it’s called no-polar. Whatever it is, it’s awful!

Anyway, I’m now in bed, listening, thanks to our recently acquired Fire Stick, to rain in a Korean sequoia forest. Part of my stress-relief campaign again insomnia.

A large fan is on, cooling our stuffy and muggy room, I’ve had a thyme tea (I’ve got a persistent cough*), and now, at twenty to nine, Teresa and Chester have joined me, upstairs.

*Note to self; must see doc’ about this.

And to finish, in honour of Bert, or Albert, my grandfather, a Royal Canadian Air Force plane:

I’m largely cutting down on the booze. That said, I still like a drum here or there. And this recent discovery is my current hands-down – or should that be glass raised? – favourite.

It’s got a hint of marmite about it. which I like.

I need to find out what this place is, and exactly where I saw it. All I recall right now is that it’s not far from Peterborough, and is just off a junction on the A1(M). A

lovely Georgian looking building, with that elegant yet simple symmetry. The two, erm… ‘wings’, with the cut out curves really add something special and a bit different to the look.

And the off white paintwork looks so gorgeous – like clotted cream! – on a sunny day, with the green lawn and bright blue sky. Just jaw-droppingly gorgeous.

Teresa often puts Rick Stein stuff on when we’re having Saturday breakfast in bed. Today this dish appeals enough to make me plan on cooking it for supper tonight.

The next three pics show how the paella rice soaks up the chicken stock.

And then, finally, to eat…

Rick Stein described it, rather oddly I thought, as ‘the sort of thing you could cook in a bed-sit’! Well, whatever. It was absolutely delicious, tho’ I say so myself.

And how’s this for synchronicity? Rickolas is doing a Topping talk in Ely, in October. So I snapped us up two tickets and a copy of his new book.