Five things make a late summer post

Wish you weren't here:

From last Saturday's Guardian, a clever set of photographs by photographer Natacha de Mahieu who took multiple exposures of beauty spots to show how busy they are over a period of time. Since I occasionally wonder how early in the morning a photographer had to get up to capture an uninhabited scene (but can also get quite defensive about the absence of people in my photographs), this gave me something to think about.

Mythical beasts and phantom libraries

An early autumn in the television schedules brings a new series of Shetland. No spoilers, but we start with a missing person, a young man who has just celebrated the publication of a graphic novel about a creature from Shetland folklore, the wulver, part man, part wolf. Wondering idly about the graphic novel and Connor's artwork, I tried a search and learned that the wulver is a genuine piece of Shetland folklore, but, like so much of the best folklore, it arises from a mistaken etymology.

Other things in the television version of Shetland which aren't what they seem include Lerwick Library. The library exterior is played by St Ringan's church - which, to be fair, was the library last time I was in Lerwick, and possibly at the time of filming, too: but it it has since moved next door. And the splendid wood-panelled interior is the Glasgow Women's Library.

A subliminal puffin

Also new to the tv schedules, the return of Fake or Fortune. I tend to hate-watch this show, with much muttering about art and money and why is the BBC putting such immense resources into maximising the assets of the wealthy and and and ... I'm surprised I haven't posted about it before, but you get the idea. In this particular episode, about a wall-painting which might or might not be by Ben Nicholson, we were at least spared the spectacle of the owners declaring that this was all about their love for the painting, and not at all about the money - it had been there when they bought the house, and they were all set to paint over it, until a neighbour stopped them. But I was distracted by the painting itself, because if you look at it the right way - click that link, or here's the version that Philip Mould tweeted - in among the impeccably abstract squares and circles, there is a puffin hiding. Just look at it: the black shape is so obviously its back and head, framing the white circle of its face (with faint lettering markings which only just suggest its eye), while arcs of red and yellow nod to the colourful bill. It's a puffin, I tell you, and having once seen it I couldn't unsee it.

Puffins never come singly

If this is just a sign that I'm obsessed with puffins, I am not alone. We followed Fake or Fortune with an episode of Pointless, and by pure coincidence one of the questions asked contestants to identify a number of rabbits and hares. One was a snow hare, face on to the camera, little eyes deep-set in white fur: "It has puffin eyes!" exclaimed Alexander Armstrong - and was so startled by the resemblance that he said it again. He was right, but you'll have to take my word for it, because I can't find the actual picture they used, or any other that produces the same effect.

The blackberry harvest continues

I've never seen a crop of blackberries like it. Yes, the brambles have taken over the garden, but I've complained about that in past years, and complained too that we weren't even being compensated in blackberries. Not this year; this year we have as many as we can pick, and are eyeing the heavier fruits growing up beyond our reach. A neighbour contributes her recipe for blackberry gratin:
( Liz's Blackberry gratin recipe )