Middlesbrough’s Royal Exchange building opened in 1868, and quickly became one of the most important sites for industrial deal-making in England at the heart of the town nicknamed ‘Ironopolis’. A very grand Italianate building, it featured all sorts of intricate stonework and decoration.

It was, however, demolished in 1985 to make way for the much uglier A66. As a sop to the historical importance of the site, some of the twiddly bits of stonework are retained on these little poles in Exchange Square, near the original site of the building.

There’s something distinctly and disturbingly Scarfolk about these metal sculptures of children in North Ormesby, now swallowed up by the surrounding foliage.

It’s less than seven years since Wendy and I wandered along Hollywood Boulevard, comparing it—not entirely favourably—to Blackpool’s promenade.

It’s astonishing, distressing, and tragic to think that, at the time of writing, it’s now in a mandatory evacuation zone due to wildfires. The situation as a whole will doubtless be worse by the time this is published.

Ryan Broderick recently shared the observation that ‘climate change will manifest as a series of disasters viewed through phones with footage that gets closer and closer to where you live until you’re the one filming it.’

LA may be thousands of miles away, but the familiarity makes it feel closer—and perhaps that’s the apt interpretation of the word ‘closer’ for these purposes. It’s hard not to feel a scintilla of guilt about the way that trips like ours might have ultimately contributed to the destruction, just as they contributed to the touristic development of the area in the first place. Flygskam is a complicated emotion.

This is the clocktower at Wallington. Wallington is one of a number of North East National Trust properties—perhaps most of them—with which I have strange mental associations, having worked on a ward named after it. But that needn’t detain us today.

Today’s scintilla of curiosity is found in the National Trust’s insistence, in signage and even on their website, that the thing pictured above is the ‘clocktower’—one word—not the ‘clock tower’, as I’d have written it. So let’s crack open the Oxford English Dictionary and see what’s going on there.

Except… there’s not much to say. ‘Clock tower’ is only listed as two words, with one example where it has been hyphenated. ‘Clocktower’ doesn’t appear. And in it’s National Heritage List for England Grade 1 entry, the structure is referred to as the ‘Clock Tower Gate’

So why the insistence on ‘clocktower’? I think it might be because they are often using it—perhaps even in all the examples I’ve seen—as part of a compound phrase, like ‘clocktower cafe’. This seems like a reasonable bit of linguistic tidying which even I can forgive… even if it’s not absolutely correct.

Wendy reckons that this Christmas has been the Christmas of wicker reindeer… though neither of us are really sure why they’ve been so prolific.

I was reminded recently that male reindeer shed their antlers in winter—so, I guess, wicker reindeer are almost exclusively female.

Life needs more whimsy.