When we visited London a few months ago we made a conscious decision to avoid the tourist hotspots and instead have a look at some of the lesser known attractions. London definitely has a lot to offer, but St. Sophia’s Cathedral – more properly known as the Greek Orthodox Cathedral of the Divine Wisdom – was certainly not what I expected.
Surprisingly the first Greek Orthodox church in London opened way back in 1681, to serve a growing community of Greek origin. This influx was driven in part by the persecution of Christians under the Ottoman Empire, which ruled Greece at the time. In addition, some wealthy Greeks relocated to London to escape the political instability of their homeland, while others who worked in the shipping industry moved there to set up businesses moving goods between England and the eastern Mediterranean. The small Greek community thrived, and today the area of Soho in which they first settled is still known as Greek Street.
Although London’s Greek community prospered and grew, their original church did not. By the mid-19th century, demand amongst its members for an appropriate place of worship intensified, and it was this that ultimately led to the construction of a building large and grand enough to meet the spiritual needs of a community that was now numbered in the thousands. Work began on the construction of the Greek Orthodox Church of the Divine Wisdom in 1877, and it was formally consecrated in 1882. In 1922 it was designated as a Cathedral serving the needs of all Orthodox Christians in the British Isles and Malta.
Arriving at the Cathedral, the view from the street is unremarkable, and at first I wondered if our visit was worth the effort we’d made to get there. Crossing the threshold, however, I quickly learned that the ornate Byzantine interior boasts an impressive array of intricate mosaics and other beguiling features. This riot of gold leaf, multi-coloured marble and elaborately carved wood seemed strangely exotic, very un-British, not at all what I expected to see in London – nor, indeed, anywhere in the UK – and was all the more pleasing for that very reason.
The Greek Orthodox Cathedral of the Divine Wisdom in Bayswater, London, most definitely possesses the “wow factor”, and is a clear illustration of why visitors to London should occasionally break away from the well trodden tourist trail and seek out some of the capital’s less known architectural gems. Well worth a visit!
Wordless Wednesday is a simple blog post featuring a photo. It seeks to convey a message or tell a story, but speaks for itself without using words. Mrs P took this photo of a fishing hut at Prospect Bay in Nova Scotia, Canada in 2015
Last Monday, 2 February, was World Wetlands Day. A wetland is a transitional area between land and water, an area where water covers the soil – or is present at or near the surface – either permanently or seasonally. Mrs P and I love a good wetland: it’s a distinct ecosystem that is a great place for a spot of birdwatching, and is notable as the favoured habitat of the handsome heron family
Grey Herons were my Mum’s favourite bird. This one has just caught itself a tasty snack.
When my father died over 30 years ago we bought my mother a set of binoculars and started taking her out on our birdwatching expeditions. She soon declared the heron to be her favourite bird, attracted I suspect by its large size and a distinctive appearance that includes a dagger-like bill, long spindly legs and an improbably bendy neck. I imagine she was also intrigued by the birds’ hunting style, in which they stand motionless for lengthy periods before stabbing explosively at any prey item foolish enough to venture too close to them. Spotting a heron quickly became Mum’s ambition whenever we took her out, and because we chose our birdwatching sites carefully she was rarely disappointed.
The Grey Heron is the UK’s most common species of heron. As these images show, Mrs P’s been photographing them for many years.
The species that Mum got to know and love is the Grey Heron, by a long way the most common member of the heron family in the UK, with over 60,000 birds overwintering here. Standing nearly 1m high and with a wingspan approaching 2m, it is an impressive bird. It feeds primarily on fish, but also eats amphibians, ducklings and other small birds, and tiny mammals such as voles. Interestingly, Grey Herons sometimes temporarily leave their wetland habitats in favour of nearby agricultural fields which they scour for rodents in the immediate aftermath of the harvest.
Little Egret.
The UK boasts several other members of the heron family, although none is very common. The Bittern is vanishingly rare; Mrs P and I have rarely seen one, and have never got a decent photograph. Little Egrets were once common here, but were wiped out over 100 years ago thanks to the insatiable demand of the fashion industry for the birds’ elegant feathers. I wrote about the decline and fall of the Little Egret, and the important consequences this had on bird conservation in the UK, in a post I wrote in 2024.
Great White Egret.
Little Egrets began recolonising the UK in the late 20th century, and these days we see them quite often. Sadly their return came too late for my Mum, as did the more recent arrival of the Great White Egret. She would have been thrilled, I’m sure, to see both egret species, though I suspect neither would have supplanted the Grey Heron in her affections.
Clockwise from Top Left: Green Heron (seen on Tobago in 2006); Great Blue Heron (Canada, 2014); Little Blue Heron (Costa Rica, 2008); White-Faced Heron (Tasmania, 2016); Galapagos Heron (Galapagos Islands, 1989); Bare-Throated Tiger Heron (Costa Rica, 2008); Great Blue Heron (Canada, 2015).
Across the whole world there are reckoned to be 75 separate species within the heron family, although some go under the names of egret or bittern. Herons’ solitary nature and their motionless hunting style have captured the imagination of cultures everywhere, often making them figures of mystery and deep spiritual significance as well as symbols of patience and wisdom. Every continent except Antarctica boasts resident species of heron, and as Mrs P’s photos show we’ve been privileged to see a number of these during our travels.
Clockwise from Top Left: Bare-Throated Tiger Heron (Costa Rica, 2008); Green Heron (Costa Rica, 2008); Bare-Throated Tiger Heron (Costa Rica, 2008); Indian Pond Heron (India, 2013); Little Blue Heron (USA, 2012); Great Blue Heron (Canada, 2012).
Almost all species of heron are closely associated with water, living and feeding as they mostly do on the margins of lakes, rivers, and swamps. They need wetlands, as do so many other species of birds, mammal and invertebrate, and it has been a pleasure to celebrate World Wetlands Day by featuring these magnificent birds here. My Mum, a heron lover until the very end, would definitely have approved!
Wordless Wednesday is a simple blog post featuring a photo. It seeks to convey a message or tell a story, but speaks for itself without using words. Mrs P took these photos of a colourful fishmarket in 2013, at the town of Diu in the Indian state of Gujarat.
In a previous post about our 2025 visit to London I described a journey downriver on the Thames from Westminster Bridge to Woolwich. On a different day we took another boat trip, this time heading upriver. The plan had been to visit the historic Hampton Court Palace, once the home of King Henry VIII. Sadly this proved impossible due to repair work being undertaken at Teddington lock, but nevertheless – despite the relentlessly gloomy weather – we decided to take the boat upriver to Kew to view this area of London from an unfamiliar angle.
The Vertrouwen is a Dutch barge dating from 1929. It is now moored at Dove Pier in Hammersmith.
In common with most cities, London is a mixture of the good, the bad and the ugly. Mostly ugly, of course, but the river journey did reveal a few interesting bridges, boats and buildings. Although I grew up in the capital, most of the sights were new to me, but a few – such as Hammersmith Bridge – were achingly familiar.
Hammersmith Bridge
An elegant suspension bridge that opened in 1827, Hammersmith Bridge is etched into my memory. Over half a century ago I attended school in this part of London, and can clearly remember our class being sent on “cross-country” runs – following a route that included crossing the bridge – by a teacher who was clearly allergic to teaching in the conventional sense. These days the bridge is closed to all motor traffic due to the appearance of cracks in its pedestals, but foot traffic (including, I imagine, cross-country runners!) can still cross here.
Hammersmith Bridge
One of the most recognisable buildings we saw during our trip upriver was Battersea Power Station. Built in two phases between 1929 and 1955, the coal-fired power station once produced a fifth of all the electricity used in London, keeping the lights on in buildings as illustrious as Buckingham Palace and the Houses of Parliament.
Battersea Power Station ceased operations in 1983, when the generating equipment began to wear out and oil, gas and nuclear fuels started to be preferred over coal for the generation of electricity. Demolition would have been the obvious next step, but the building’s iconic appearance on the London skyline resulted in it being given listed status in recognition its heritage value.
Battersea Power Station
For over 20 years the former power station remained unoccupied. It fell into disrepair, before plans were agreed to redevelop the site to include residential accommodation, bars, restaurants, offices, shops and entertainment spaces. When viewed from the Thames there is little indication today of what now lies within, but it’s easy to see why such an imposing structure captured the imagination of several generations of Londoners.
We had been fully expecting and were looking forward to seeing Battersea Power Station, but another nearby building took us totally by surprise. Just a few hundred metres upriver from the power station is the Peace Pagoda, one of around 80 similar structures built across the world since the end of the Second World War. They owe their origin to the Japanese Buddhist monk Nichidatsu Fujii (1885-1985), who devoted his life to promoting non-violence after an inspirational meeting with Mahatma Gandhi in 1931.
The Peace Pagoda in Battersea Park
The first Peace Pagoda, which was intended as a focus for people of all races and creeds to help unite them in their search for world peace, was inaugurated in the Japanese city of Kumamoto in 1954. The Battersea Peace Pagoda dates from 1985, and was built by a group of 50 volunteers who were members of the Japanese Nipponzan-Myohoji Buddhist order that had been founded by Fujii.
Taking off from London Heliport
Journeying through London on the Thames proved to be the perfect way to escape the chaos of the capital’s road network for a while, but travel by boat does not suit everyone. If you’re in a hurry, filthy rich and don’t give a damn about noise pollution, you can travel to and from central London by helicopter. London Heliport’s website proclaims that it offers “ultimate comfort and convenience” by acting as “the vertical gateway to London for VIPs and the business community for over 50 years.” Plainly it’s not for the likes of me and Mrs P, but we were interested to watch a helicopter taking off as our boat passed the heliport. It reminded us – as if we needed reminding! – why we would hate to live in London.
These images show a few of the other sights we witnessed during our upriver excursion. Top Left: “The Powerhouse”, a former power station converted into luxury apartments. Top Right: former Dutch barge the “Amethyst Atoll”, now moored at Dover Pier, Hammersmith. Middle Right (top): Kew Bridge. Middle Right (bottom): Unidentified boat moored at Chiswick. Bottom Right: Lambeth Bridge. Bottom Left: “Houses on the Strand” at Kew. All very interesting, but I definitely wouldn’t want to live here!
Wordless Wednesday is a simple blog post featuring a photo. It seeks to convey a message or tell a story, but speaks for itself without using words. Mrs P was clearly seeing double when she took this photo at Yellowstone National Park in September 2018.
The plan was simple – take a leisurely drive up to the west coast of Scotland, catch the ferry and then spend some quality time on the islands of Islay and Jura. We’d never visited either before, but they promised so much – beautiful scenery, bewitching wildlife, numerous whisky distilleries and, above all, a bit of peace and tranquillity, away from the hurly burly of our daily existence. Only it didn’t quite work out that way…
Red deer stag at Inverlussa, Jura – Such a handsome chap!
The drive north was uneventful, but things began to go wrong as soon as we arrived on Islay, the southernmost island of the Inner Hebrides. We had rented a cottage, and it didn’t live up to expectations. I’ll not bother you with the details, just believe me when I say we were not at all happy.
Kilchoman church, Islay – in the middle of nowhere!
But things were about to get a whole lot worse. After less than 48 hours on Islay a medical issue forced us to seek urgent advice. Our cottage was in a very remote location; there were no neighbours we could turn to for support, and we ended up speaking by phone to a doctor in Inverness, around 200 miles (320km) away. He diagnosed the problem, and referred us to the local hospital where we could pick up some medication. Up until this point I’d absolutely no idea there was a hospital on the tiny island of Islay!
Tarbert Bay, Jura
We set off after midnight, struggling to find our way in pitch darkness along roads that could have been in contention for the national “pothole of the year” award if such a thing existed. Eventually we found the hospital and picked up the medication.
The Paps of Jura
Fortunately the medication soon started to do its job. We took things fairly easy for the next couple of days while recovery was underway, and even managed a day trip to the nearby island of Jura. Islay and Jura were beginning to live up to their reputations, despite our discomfort.
Isla is famous for its distilleries that produce peaty, single-malt whisky. This is the Ardbeg Distillery
And then, just as we were picking up the pace again, we got a phone call. A family emergency had arisen, and we were needed back home as soon as possible. Frantic phone calls followed as we sought to cancel the other accommodation we had lined up for later in our trip, and to rearrange our ferry booking in order to get us back to the Scottish mainland as soon as possible. Luckily, everyone we spoke with was sympathetic and helpful. Although we needed to rise from our beds at 4.45am we did get safely back home to Derbyshire the next day, after around 17 hours travelling. What a nightmare!
Highland Cow at Sanaigmore Bay, Islay
Needless to say, in many ways it’s a holiday we’d rather forget. But having said that, both Islay and Jura appeared to have a lot to offer. They seemed like “our sort of place”, and in other circumstances our memories would doubtless be overwhelmingly positive. So we have tentatively agreed that we need to go back and to make some new memories, and thereby delete from our minds the nightmare that was Islay and Jura in 2025. Not this year, but probably before too much longer. Watch this space!
Wordless Wednesday is a simple blog post featuring a photo. It seeks to convey a message or tell a story, but speaks for itself without using words. In celebration of the New Year, and in the hope that 2026 will be more joyful and less depressing than 2025 (not difficult!), I share this image of sunrise over Canyon Village in Yellowstone National Park. Mrs P took the photo in September 2018.
A few days ago we took an evening trip to Twycross Zoo to spend a bit of time with the Gruffalo and his pals. The Zoo is highly regarded for its work on the protection and breeding of endangered species, particularly primates, but the Gruffalo is a recent addition to their collection! He will be staying at Twycross for just a few weeks, and so was attracting a lot of interest.
The Gruffalo eyes up the mouse, probably thinking “mmm, looks tasty!”
If you’re not familiar with it, The Gruffalo is a world famous children’s picture book written by English author Julia Donaldson and illustrated by German artist Axel Scheffler. First published in 1999, the book has been translated into over 100 languages and has sold over 13.5 million copies worldwide. The story was later made into a 30-minute animated film and has been adapted into several stage productions. A follow-up book, The Gruffalo’s Child, was published in 2004 and has also proved to be hugely popular. This much-admired youngster also made a guest appearance at Twycross, alongside his even more famous father.
The mouse fights for his life by telling the owl about his fierce protector, the Gruffalo.
The plot of The Gruffalo is simple: a mouse takes a walk through the woods in search of food, where he meets three animals – an owl, a fox and a snake – each of whom would like to eat him for dinner. In order to escape the mouse invents a scary story, telling each predator that he is on his way to meet the fierce and fearsome Gruffalo, who will be very very displeased if anything bad happens to him. And so the mouse is released unharmed, but is then shocked to meet a real, live Gruffalo who also fancies snacking on mouse.
Left: The Gruffalo’s child encounters the fox. Top Right: The Gruffalo and his child in earnest conversation. Bottom Right: The Gruffalo snuggles up to his child – maybe he’s not so fierce after all?
Can the little mouse survive the terrible tusks, claws, teeth, and jaws of the horrid Gruffalo? To find out what happens next, you’ll just have to track down a copy of the book! Maybe your local library will have one?
North American Wilds zone: salmon leap, while a beaver watches
It’s no surprise that the Gruffalo has become an iconic character in children’s literature, and so it is also no surprise that Twycross Zoo chose him to lead their special Lanterns of the Wild Christmas event. The mile (1.6km) long trail was lit by more than 2,000 vibrantly coloured lanterns, all carefully designed and deployed to dazzle the eyes and stimulate the imagination. But it wasn’t all about the Gruffalo. The trail also featured lantern dioramas of 10 environmental eco-zones, including lush rainforests, icy tundra and deep oceans.
North American Wilds zone: the carved presidents of Mount Rushmore watch over wildlife typical of the American Plains, including bison and elk, while a wolf howls from the mountain top.
Each eco-zone starred some of the wonderful wildlife found in that part of the world, making a clear link with the zoo’s primary mission. As well as being bright and cheerful, some of the dioramas were highly imaginative, such as the beaver dam in the North American Wilds zone, a dam over which salmon were attempting to leap while baffled beavers looked on. A second diorama of the North American Wilds featured the iconic carved heads of former US presidents at Mount Rushmore, complete with local wildlife including elk, bison and a wolf.
Tigers are the stars of the Asian Jungle zone
A third diorama that particularly caught my eye was the Asian Jungle eco-zone, in which majestic tigers were the stars of the show. Many years ago Mrs P and I were fortunate to visit India to watch wild tigers, and when I saw the lanterns at Twycross the memories came flooding back.
The Polar Realms zone
We were not alone as we walked the lantern trail. Visitors were there in huge numbers, all them seeking a bit of colourful pre-Christmas entertainment. Hopefully the event raised lots of additional, much needed income for Twycross, and maybe also raised its profile amongst people who previously knew little about the Zoo’s efforts to support wildlife conservation across the globe.
The lanterns featured colourful flowers as well as impressive wildlife.
Bodies like Twycross Zoo play a vital role in species conservation, and in educating the public on conservation issues. Well done to the management for coming up with this seasonal initiative to help get their message across; if the numbers and reaction of people on the night is any guide, Lanterns of the Wild was a big success. The word on the streets is that there will be another lantern trail next Christmas, although probably without the Gruffalo. If there is, Mrs P and I will be keen to support it, Gruffalo or no Gruffalo.
Christmas is fast approaching, and to mark the festive occasion enterprising folk up and down the land have been getting out their chainsaws to chop down fir trees. And other people have been coughing up good money to buy those trees, with a view to decorating them with twinkly lights, sparkly decorations and shiny tinsel. But in just a few weeks time it will all be over, the dead trees will be unceremoniously dumped and the lights, decorations and tinsel will be packed away until next year. So just why is it that we feel the need to celebrate Christmas by butchering fir trees, bringing them into our homes and festooning them with random gaudy embellishments?
Christmas trees seen in the State Dining Room at Harewood House, 2024
Christmas marks the birth of Christ the Lord, but Christmas trees have their origins in pre-Christian, pagan times. Long before the birth of Jesus numerous civilisations, including the Egyptians and the Romans, used branches of evergreen fir trees to decorate their homes, thereby celebrating the endurance of life through hard times. Doing so symbolised hope, resilience, and the promise of spring, presumably lifting people’s spirits during the dark winter months. The practice survived in various forms for many centuries.
Seen at Castle Howard in 2025. The tree is 28 feet high, dressed with 3,000 decorative baubles and a 1km string of twinkling lights
In the 16th century German Christians began decorating trees in their homes. Legend has it that the Protestant reformer Martin Luther was the first to place candles on an evergreen. Inspired by the stars shining through the trees on a winter’s night, he is said by some to have created humanity’s first “Christmas lights.” While attributing to Martin Luther such a pivotal role in the evolution of the Christmas tree seems to me a bit fanciful, there is no doubt that the idea took off in Germany at around this time. And it is from Germany that the tradition of Christmas trees arrived in the UK.
Christmas at Harewood House, 2024
The first Christmas trees here in the UK were thanks to Charlotte, the wife of King George III. Having been born and raised in Germany, Christmas trees were clearly close to her heart, so it is no surprise that Charlotte sought to introduce the tradition to the British royal court. The first recorded example in England was in December 1800, when she arranged for a large, decorated yew tree to be the centrepiece of a children’s party at Queen’s Lodge, Windsor.
Festival of Trees at St Mary and All Saints church, (better known as the Crooked Spire), Chesterfield, 2021. Over 100 Christmas trees were on display, created by local groups and organisations. The white tree in the middle is by a local jewellers shop, whilst to its left is one by an alarm company and is decorated with PIR sensors!
Despite Charlotte’s best efforts, however, Christmas trees did not catch on, and it was left to Queen Victoria – George III’s granddaughter – to succeed where she had failed. Victoria and her husband Prince Albert were big fans of Christmas, and having been born in Germany the Prince would have been steeped in the tradition of placing decorated fir trees at the heart of the festive celebrations.
Festival of Trees, Chesterfield, 2021, The tree nearest the right is cleverly made to look like a wedding dress, with a lace bodice on top and the greenery below forming the skirt. Needless to say, it was created by a bridal shop. The one next to it is by a greengrocer, and so is decorated with fruit.
Thanks to their efforts Christmas trees were enthusiastically accepted by high society, from whence the practice filtered down to the masses. Initially the trees were used as table decorations, as they were quite small. But when it became possible to source bigger trees from overseas, or to rear them here in the UK, the practice began of standing them on the floor and arranging presents beneath them. Gathering around the tree became a big thing, a time when families united and enjoyed one another’s company.
Festival of Trees at Dronfield, 2025. This tree is made by Oaks Community Church using egg boxes as the spokes of the tree, decorated with fruit and vegetables.
Today Christmas trees can be found in huge numbers in both private homes and public spaces, but these days it’s not necessary to kill a living tree in order to join in the fun. Wooden, candle-lit tree-shaped pyramids were used by German Moravian settlers in colonial America in the 1700s. But the move towards artificial trees really began in late 19th century Germany as a response to deforestation. These were initially created from dyed goose feathers, which was great news for fir trees but perhaps not so great for geese!
Festival of Christmas Trees, Chesterfield, 2025. Decorations were by made by Banner Jones solicitors from knitted woolly (beanie) hats which will be passed on to 4 local charities.
Another big step forward took place in the USA in the 1930s, when the Addis Brush Company (USA) predicted the principles of recycling – and demonstrated a good eye for a business opportunity! – by using leftover brush bristles to create trees. A little later aluminium trees became popular, but by the end of the 20th century PVC plastic trees were the market leaders. So there, in a nutshell, we have the great 21st century Christmas tree dilemma – do we chop down living fir trees and contribute to deforestation, or do we make artificial trees out of a material that will litter the planet for centuries to come? We are, as the saying goes, between a rock and a hard place when it comes to the future of Christmas trees.
Festival of Christmas Trees, Chesterfield, 2021. This tree was created by the church bellringers, and features both the bell pull and bells.
But for now, Christmas trees – artificial or “real” – remain hugely popular. In recent years we’ve noticed an increase in the number of Christmas tree festivals, community events featuring hundreds of trees that are the work of local groups and organisations. Some of these are clearly motivated by commercial considerations, local businesses calculating that this is a cheap and effective way to advertise themselves and their wares. Others are the work of volunteer-led community organisations and public services seeking to promote their activities to a wider audience.
Festival of Christmas Trees, Chesterfield, 2021. This tree was created by the local cricket club.
Almost without exception these trees are artificial, but what makes them stand out is their unusual construction and decoration. One of the joys of Christmas tree festivals is the wacky inventiveness of the people who create the trees, such as the upside-down tree that was the brainchild of Chesterfield’s branch of Specsavers opticians. The Chesterfield branch is part of a multinational optical retail chain with the slogan “should have gone to Specsavers”, a chain whose long-running marketing campaign is centred around illustrating what misfortunes might come your way if you don’t get your eyesight tested…such as failing to notice that your Christmas tree is upside-down!
Festival of Christmas Trees, Chesterfield 2021. “Should have gone to Specsavers!”
In other examples from the Chesterfield Festival of Trees we have seen a Christmas tree made from golf clubs (yes, you guessed it, the organisation responsible was the local golf club!), a Christmas tree made out of copper pipes (courtesy of the plumbing course at a local college) and a little Christmas tree made out of empty egg cartons loaded with colourful fruit and vegetables for decoration. And we’ve even seen Christmas trees decorated with woolly (beanie) hats, church bell pulls, and cricket balls. Crazy!
I’m tempted to say that you couldn’t make it up, but clearly someone has! It’s easy to be cynical about the commercial aspects of the 21st century Christmas, but Christmas tree festivals counteract this by spreading good cheer at a time when most folk are feeling hugely stressed. Happy Christmas, everyone!
Now I'm 64 