Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Driving through a dark part of the New Forest on a very bright day, you begin to see things in black and white, especially at the periphery of your field of view.
As we pass a side-lane, a momentary glance freezes a picture which the mind resolves in to a painting in sable, silver and gold.
The bright lane leading to a steep roofed cottage, dark with a tall chimney in a gap in the wood.
In the lane, towards the house, a slender black cat pauses to glance our way and holds one front foot raised in mid-stride.
In the foreground, a golden hen tiptoes across her own sharp shadow.
Peace and tranquility in a bubble of time.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Monday, June 20, 2011
i spent an hour trying to book rail tickets online with southernrailway.com
they wanted me to set up an account
i don't really want an account i just need a ticket and i'd be glad to pay
they insist i set up an account with my e-mail address and a password
then they said the password was invalid
then they asked me to set up an account again
then they put the fare up
so i'm going by bus ... it takes twice as long to get there but the booking system is comparitively open and transparent
i wonder how many customers they alienate on a daily basis ?
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Staring intently into a dress shop window, leaning forward on her crutches, a young woman with only one leg, but it really is a very nice dynamic sort of a leg … with a very smart high-heeled shoe at the end of it.
Just after four in the morning, in the last shadows of night on the north edge of Clapham Common, at random but in the space of only about two hundred yards, ten young foxes busily searching the short damp grass with their noses.
On a zebra crossing by Putney Station, I side-step an oncoming goddess, a modern Atalanta. She is tall enough to look over my head and is wearing very short muddy shorts over sinewy thighs ... and a pair of muddy football boots with the laces knotted together are draped over her shoulder.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Monday, June 6, 2011
Two girls recline on a low broad wall, one combing the hair of the other whose head lays upon her lap. Each has hair the colour of ginger biscuits.
The cafeteria in the Wellcome Collection is furnished with chairs upholstered in pastel-coloured plastics. A little girl wearing a dress patterned with white and pink and purple hearts chooses without hesitation to sit on a pink chair.
A text message arrives from the cancer ward. She lives and breathes and they haven’t excised her sense of humour.