These much ignored pieces of rural and urban furniture finally have a website of their own.
This is not the site to visit for technical information pertaining to telegraph poles. You'll find nothing about 10KVa transformers, digital telephone networking or even so much as a single volt. This is a website celebrating the glorious everyday mundanitude of these simple silent sentinels the world over. We don't care what the wires contain either. They all carry electricity in some way be it the sparky stuff which boils your kettle, or the thinner stuff with your voice in it when you're on the phone.
Telegraph Poles & Fine Art
…mix surprisingly well. Anybody who has ever read our wonderful book Telegraph Pole Appreciation for Beginners (Key Stages 1-4) will have seen just how much telegraph poles feature as a muse for artists the world over.
Debbie Richards is a real artist from Ipswich, she assures us; done the whole fine art degree thing and is a member of Ipswich Art Society. “I painted a Telegraph pole at the top of my street in Ipswich because it looked somehow amazing, especially with the cloud behind it, photos attached. I wondered if you could put it on your for sale page?“
We don’t have a “for sale” page, sorry Debbie, but I will plug it here in the vain hope that some generous benefactor will buy it off you and give it to me. Debbie hopes I like it. I love it. It would hang so well here in our oak-panelled boardroom at TPAS Towers. (alongside my Joe Simpson piece). Alas, I have fewer than two halfpennys to rub together otherwise I’d snap it up immediately.
It’s 80cm x 80cm, oil on stretched canvas, framed in wood. £450 plus p&p. Do contact this office for further details.
A Nude Linesman in Oz
I can’t believe how long it’s taken me to get this post up on to the website. Jerry Deacon, who sent this to me, can’t believe how long it’s taken either. And Jerry, I’ve just realised is none other than (previously plugged on here) Kilgraney Sleepers (now railwaysleepers.com) – the place to go for old railway sleepers (the clue is in the name) but also old and new telegraph poles for ornamental and nerdic use. Nice plug for you there Jerry; I trust that this is adequate recompense for my tardiness.
Anyway, back in March. Jerry wrote to tell us that as an intrepid explorer he came across Hamelin Pool Telegraph Station (1884) near Shark Bay in Western Australia. There is a definite passion for telegraph poles in Oz. In October 1872 the Overland Telegraph line between Darwin and Adelaide was completed, and the Australian telegraph network became linked directly to Europe (termite attacks notwithstanding). Hamelin station was established as a repeater station that linked Western Australia into this same network. And this is the last of these stations still extant. Now, for some reason, it features, quite prominently, a nude linesman attending to the pole top apparatus. Why this should be is anyone’s guess and Jerry offers no explanation, nor does anything at the station itself. Though he did suggest Nude Pole of the Month as a possible new feature for these very pages. I’m going to pretend he never said that.
Moochin’ about in Mullingar
Messing about in Ireland again! Well I only live a modest distance from the ferry at Fishguard, so it’d be churlish not to. A splendid overnight in James Joyce’s former watering hole, the very fine Greville Arms Hotel, in the midlands town of Mullingar in Co. Westmeath. Mullingar won’t ever win any tidy town awards but it had an old Irish charm all of its own. And the railway station had a further delight for us in the overlooked, disused and too-close-to-everything-to-chop-down ancient telegraph pole you see below. And a station on a bend is worth two in the bush or something.
People who like telegraph poles often like old railways too and vice-versa. I’m no different. So next day we found ourselves at Castletown (5 miles SE) walking ye olde rail trail that once ran between Mullingar and Athlone (you remember Athlone don’t you?) Our meeting, along said trail, with an elderly Irish gentleman whose wonderful accent and false teeth that rattled as he talked is a story for another time, perhaps over a pint of something black and nourishing. Anyway, this trail still has lengths of track in places and is a haven for wildlife. In fact, Ireland is fully fifty years behind our UK depletion of nature. I hope they learn from our mistakes. The final photo in the sequence is a delightful croc-face replete with insulators and insulating coat of ivy. This was on the way home in Co. WIcklow. Without further ado.
Poetic poles in Northumberland
Simon Rushton is a pole aficionado after my own heart. He clearly gets the poetry of their silent sentinel lives watching over us as we scud about our business beneath. Here are a selection of Simon’s photos from overlooked poles in Northumberland. Simon’s own beautiful words are best to describe them:
“Ancient beauty shivering on the edge of woodland in the winter snow at Howick, Northumberland. She’s a toothless wonder, poor thing, with just a couple of insulators left in place, but no doubt amazed to have a new lease of life carrying fibre. There she stands, blinking in the fading light, relieved not to be recycled as gate posts in the local fields quite yet.”
And there’s more: “Mystery survivors on the road from Hexham to Alston, Northumberland. The wires are ominously down in places but the remainder are soldiering on regardless. Here and there are fresh faces, newly creosoted – the matchstick brigade, lacking those gorgeous double and triple cross-members with insulators…”
Ardnamurchan Allure
It’s been quite a while since we last heard from Lord of the Northern Poles, aka Kev Currie (#0530). Turns out he’s been busy misanthroping in Ardnamurchan – 50 square miles of remote and empty (of humans) peninsula in the western Highlands of Scotland. It’s a grand place for it, for sure, but we’ve missed Kev’s excellent and bewitching pole photos. Amends have been made with these two however. Kev says that his passion for poles has not waned and if anything has deepened as his wife (Lady of the Northern Poles) has been trying, unsuccessfully, to get him to counselling. Don’t bother Lady OTNP.
“The Ardnamurchen peninsula was absolutely amazing” Kev said “not just for the abundance of old telegraph poles but the amount of otters eagles and seals we saw and for being almost devoid of other humans.” It’s long been on my must-visit list and I have sailed past it on the ferry to Tiree and Barra.
Pic #1 is of some fine reindeer food on an unmarked pole. Shows how clean the air is up there, that it’s growing on a creosoted pole notwithstanding. And the second pic is a 2½ armed pole also with no date.
Where the hell have I been?
It’s remiss of me, I know. It’s nearly July already and this is my first post in ages. As I am free between the hours of 2am and 5am each day, my wife thought I ought to take on some more part-time work to make ends meet (they don’t still). I resort now to sleeping on the job during lengthy toilet breaks. An “Out of Order” sign on the door helps here, I find. Consequently, things have slipped a little on this particular desk.
Anyway, I was going to do a Pole of the Month post but I’ve not seen any white smoke arising from the POTM selection college’s chimney so assume the committee have yet to come to a decision. So, in the interests of meanwhiledom, herewith a selection of recent photos, some contenders and some not.
First off, there’s these from Ian Stokes (#1134) who tells us that he can’t help feeling there’s no place for AI in Wales (see previous post) but there is one for AA and it’s on the A40 just west of Crug Hywel (Crickhowell). “A beautiful vision of two old friends”, he says, “untroubled by the passage of time and touchingly colour co-ordinated”. Ian used the salution “Hello Butty” in his covering letter. A quaintly south Wales term for friend or pal. Being a “gog” though, (a north Walian), I know Butty better as being a soggy sandwich, likely with shrimp paste, otherwise a pint of “Butty Bach” a fine ale from over the border into Hereford. But enough of that.
Next in my deep in-tray was this lovely specimen from the Isle of Mull taken by Roger Boulton. Roger was unaware of TPAS until today (a week or two ago). He took these whilst on holiday and said it was the combination of pole and scenery that made him stop. We’re glad you did Roger. The skidmarks are still there by the way.
This next pole is a contender for Pole of the Month (Whenever we get around to doing that again). Not because of any particularly fine aesthetics but mainly because the sender, Trebor Snobbig, asked us so nicely. This pole, is situated close to a not so tall sticky-up Trig Pillar (Grid Reference SJ4859 9086) in Rainhill, Merseyside. Trebor, whose name is probably an anagram, says he consulted all his friends about this pole’s selectability, but he has no friends so sent it anyway. Good luck Mr Snobbig, let’s see what the white smoke bringeth.
Well that’s all for now folks. But rest assured, I’m going to start smoking soon so that I can take some cigarette breaks and use them to come and post some more photos.
Messing with my mind
I’ve been playing with ChatGPT lately – the world-changing artificial intelligence that we, as a society, haven’t fully worked out what to do with yet. I won’t tell you how, but it is a real boon in one of my day jobs. I won’t be telling the people I work for either. Anyway, very recently, I was introduced to ChatGPT’s elder, more artistic sister. Her name is DALL-E. We’ve become very close. Close enough that Mrs TPAS is asking me what’s going on. I think up something and DALL-E draws it for me. Just like that. Here’s a couple of pictures she did for me of Godzilla in a wedding gown (Bridezilla). Mrs TPAS already knows about this side of me by the way.
So, obviously, being the supreme commander of The Telegraph Pole Appreciation Society I wanted to know how DALL-E might draw a telegraph pole. So I asked her for “a photo realistic telegraph pole with 6 arms on a lonely road in Wales”. Below is what she came up with. It really flips my mind. I can almost feel the fuggy intelligence behind it all trying to please me. The landscapes and the poles are real enough, yet completely alien at the same time. Eerie even. I love them. What’s also clear is that DALL-E, like most people, doesn’t discern between a telephone pole and a power pole. Mwynhewch! as we say on lonely roads in Wales.
(click an image to enlarge)
Soothsaying
Not a lot of people know that I once stood as a Green Party candidate for a by-election in North Wales. I didn’t win. Nor did I come second. I don’t think third was what I was either. But I wasn’t last. And at the count the returning officer asked us all to say a few words to the gathered press and onlookers. This took me by surprise so I donned my soothsaying cloak of flabberghastion and defiantly declared that whilst they probably hadn’t voted for me today they would all be voting green one day. Talk about bold proclamation!
Anyway, it’s the soothsaying bit I’m trying to get to. I am in receipt of the photos you see below from two women correspondents. Both of whom move in high echelons. You know, meetings in boardrooms, with carafes of specially stilled water on oaken tables; white boards on the wall, minutes taken, the lot. If I had soothseen twenty years ago that one day they would be sending photos of telegraph poles to a strange man in Wales they would have laughed in my face.
And yet, here they are: Carter Wall, we have discussed before, is a mover and shaker in the supply of American energy. She is heavily into sustainable energy (me too in a saving-the-butt-ends-of-candles kind of way) and she lives at arguably the best address ever: Rattlesnake Gutter, Massachusetts. Carter was walking with her sister at Yarmouth Port on Cape Cod when they spotted the Heath Robinson splinted half-cocked pole replacement affair you see here. It was her sister, knowing of Carter’s history with this society, who suggested sending it to us. “Indeed, it’s an interesting conundrum for the pole-setter” she says, “a tight site with no room to set a new pole next to the old one as they usually do. Tough job.” Indeed.
Pippa, the sender of the other two pics is a former colleague of mine who must be surprised herself that not only does she remember me, but that she has developed herself an eye for poles. All the while supporting Tottenham Hotspur. You couldn’t make this stuff up. The dawn/dusk pole below is reminiscent of our very own February photo from the TPAS 2023 calendar. Now sold out, alas. Or should that be hooray? The second photo is taken through a train on St. Kitts. Alas, these last two came to me via social media and so suffered horribly from their compression algorithms. Without further ado, thank you Pippa and Carter:
Half-armed in Co. Wexford
Not having advertised our trimestral trip to the land of Emeralds (and Six Nations grand slammers) meant that we returned home to an unburgled house this week. Which was nice. The key was under the mat where we left it and granny was still in her annex watching re-runs of The Exorcist and chewing upon the remains of the toffees we left for her in the automatic cat feeder; timed to release two Werthers Originals per hour. Lovely. Now to wade our way through the pile of TV licence reminders received in our absence.
Our homeward journey started in the top left hand corner, specifically, Inishowen, Co. Donegal and we travelled almost exclusively by ‘B’ roads*1 all the way to the bottom right hand corner and our rendezvous with the good ship Stena Europe at Rosslare. That ageing tub couldn’t handle the swell and high winds in the Irish sea on the Monday, so we had an extra day to meander even more. Our route took us down the west coast past Sligeach, almost to Galway then meandered hither and thither seeking out interesting potholes and pubs with the most sidelines*2.
“Get to the telegraph poles man!”
Day #2 found us, in the drizzle still, on the R680 between Clonmel and the rather Frenchie sounding Carrick on Suir. This is the mother of all “B” roads. Potholes aplenty, and then these half-armed beauties hidden among the roadside foliage. The first one was the best, but I couldn’t stop as it was a narrow road and I had a car up my arse*3. These are genuine half-arms, not rotted off or stolen, the real thing. Rather than sort through them*4, here, enjoy the lot.
*1 They’re called “R” roads over there.
*2 Saw one premises that advertised: Pub (naturally), Petrol, Coal, Newspapers, hairdresser, hardware)
*3 Can I say this on this website? Turns out I can. (arse /ɑːs/ noun: (i) buttocks (ii) stupid person (iii) verb, tailgating, driving too close behind, being an /ɑːs/)
*4 It’s late, Match of the Day will be on the telly in a minute.
From our Idaho correspondent
Nathan Unruh is not going to believe me when I write this: Nathan, member #1050 first wrote to me with a photo of a totem pole thingy back in October last year. And then just two days ago I thought to myself “do you know what, you’ve not posted that Nathan Unruh’s photo yet. He’s going to think you’re a miserable git who doesn’t answer emails.” Which is only partially true – I am often miserable, and I don’t always answer emails, but I am not 100% a git*1. Anyway lo and behold just one day after thinking about Nathan, a further email arrives not at all calling me a miserable git. In fact, this one contained another photo of a power pole in Washington (USA, top left) but with dramatically fewer words. So clearly Nathan was already suspicious that emails to telegraphpoleappreciationsociety.org were falling off the end of a wire somewhere and so was saving his fingertip effort and keyboard wear and tear. But they got through Nathan, they got through.
So photo #1 has an impressive power pole with happy buzzing transformer photo-bombed by a totem pole (tall, wooden etc. but no wires coming out the top) with all footballer’s heads on it. We could get into my feelings about Shrewsbury Town FC players’ heads being stuck on a pole/spike here but that’s for a different website. Anyway, this totem pole is called The Old Codger. And it’s in Colfax, Washington (USA, top left).
The second photo, received only the other day is of a versatile mid-country pole in Rosalia, Washington (USA, still top left). So there we have it. Emails to TPAS don’t necessarily disappear into the ether and you should never lose hope
My final point here is why Idaho correspondent when these two photos are from Washington (USA, top left)?Well, Nathan’s address is in Potlatch, Idaho. and surely, like all distances in the USA measured in light years from Washington? But now that I’ve had a look at Google Maps I can see it’s almost right next door. Blimey! I also did a bit of zooming around Nathan’s area on StreetView. And I’d just like to add, at this point, wow !
*1 The true figure is about 93.7% git
