7.1.05 | Ye Views Of Ye Olde Harle Syke (As Shot By Ye Olde Saturnyne)
Harle Syke. My home. A Lancashire mill village-cum-suburb of the Township of Burnley. A fabulous community once. Pissy now. Symbolic of all that's going wrong with England Land. No-one looks out for each other anymore. The youth torments the old. But still there's sunlight to shine in the darker places. All too rare, perhaps. But there. The stacks you see in the pic below are all 150' high and were all once part of cotton mills and the like... there used to be nine or so in this area, so you can imagine the hive of activity this place once was. Not much cotton produced around here now...
I'm a Syker. I was born here. In this very house. I'll probably die here... just for completeness... a life mandala... although, i have things to do first...
Speaking of death-No mouthy blood today! Seem to be ok. But will pass on details if anything changes. Anyone wants gory doctor details please e-mail me or msn me for my privacies sake... thankee!
This first pic can no longer be replicated, as all this area is quite overgrown with super-duper trees today, the saprolings you see are now over 4 metres high now... and half the space rocket has pissed off... god knows where. Space i guess. Probably an alien landing pad all these years. Probably half o' 't Syke is an alien entity, planning domination of... of... well, i'm not sure what there is left to dominate around here... the local mini-market? The milk rounds? The chewing gum strewn pavement around the bus stops? The pension queue at the post office on Thursdays? The four pubs and/or off-license (always popular with the aliens, that)? Or mebbe the bowling green? Yeah, that's what it'll be- them aliens want to play bowls!
This is all true, by the way... i've seen the people on the next street, and i swear they were hatched from pods!
The Harle Syke Stacks and Church Spire
This next pic is a more detailed look at The Church. St James's Church of Loveliness And Being Nice To People. I once had a life-or-death struggle in this very churchyard! Only stopped when the Rev. Hallam remonstrated with my "Bitter Foe" and i for using his rhubarb as swords.
St. James Church (My home is about umpty seconds to the right. Less than umpty if you run!)
These pics were pulled out of the rat for countless people: Certainly one was B and another was Stella, and yet another was mr Boldface
love to you all
S.x
WE seek her here, we seek her there. We seek the lovely Tam everywhere...
10 comments :.
wow, you have landmarks and everything, all we have is the big fuckoff power station over the river. can you say eyesore?
wow. That is a beautiful place if those two pictures were any indication. Keeping in mind that nothing in America is too old yet. I love to see things that have been around for a long time. How old is that church?
Can I come visit you?
BIG HUGS and
THANK YOUs!!!
stella
BIG HUGS and
THANK YOUs!!!
stella
oh, lovely pics!
how neat that you live next to that old church. i love old churches, especially ones that have really old gravestones and pretty gardens.
and funny about the cotton mill. i never expected england to have cotton mills (don't ask me why). there are a lot of cotton fields in rural parts of alabama, too.
thanks for the pics! :)
Heya Supergood! i'm not sure what to compare the stacks to, so: They're smaller than The Empire State Building and Godzilla. And larger than kittens. Cute kittens. Yeah! Perhaps the church picture might give you some perspective... it's a pretty small church and you can see it's spire in the first picture...
Heya, Rob. Landmarks? Pshaw! Heh!
Cece, me dear. You and Roy and childs are welcome to drop by for food anytime. (I know how you Texans love food). but Harle Syke is NOT as pretty as these pics might suggest. At some further point i'll show you the grittier side of my home
D.childs! Heyyy! THanks! You can be the president of my fanclub anytime. Yeah, Harle Syke can be kinda peaceful, but there's also noise, too. And a certain lack of prettiness in many places.
Stella! You're BOTH welcome! You can also be president of my fanclub.
B!!! Fanclub. President. Yer in. Heh! But The North-West of England has in the past been renowned for it's cotton weaving industry. And without the slavery, too! Not saying that the workers weren't taken advantage of, though. I'm sure they were.
It all started to go downhill with the struggle for independence in India, though. While i'm glad that Mr Gandhi achieved his country's freedom from English Colonialism, the weavers in this area were hit hard by cheaper Indian cotton. Gandhi, even visited. Although he didn't arrive in my own modest township, he went walking on the moors above nearby Blackburn, which is near here. Amazing man. Gandhi.
I don't live quite next to the church, though... there's a row of terraced houses inbetween... all built for the mill workers... Oh, i forgot to say!- One of the mills is a working museum now! It's verr interesting. You could probably find it in a google, if ya either type in Harle Syke.. or more specifically, Queen Street Mill. Good luck finding...
S.x
Well, I'm very jealous of your vicinity. Its lovely up "your way".
But you'd probably be jealous of my own leafy Warwickshire abode as well...
The Saturnyne Fan Club is now Open for membership.
Feel free to pour some Love. Accepting compliments. Ego petting hours. Reminders of how adored he is...
I did already. Twice.
I like your pics of the "dark satanic mills" (as an old weaver acquaintance used to refer to them) from down the rec' - looks like the mills are overrun by giant grass.
Don't remember the vicar cultivating rhubarb, though ... mmm. Sure it didn't come from the plots? You start out as a rhubarb raider and then it's a slippery slope and you end up as a tup rustler or worse.
Carry on bloggin, lad!
from
Ex-patriate Syker
(And you are probably right to say that all Sykers are from another planet. It would explain a lot.)
My "if not alien, then definitely weird" theory is confirmed:
"A Syker is a character who has developed powerful psychic abilities [Deadlands]... The exception to this are Sykers who developed "wildly", that is, they came into their powers suddenly and have received no training."
Did we but know what living in Harle Syke would mean...
Yours, again,
Ex-patriate Syker
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