duende ... evaporates

i've only just noticed how the girl on the label of spain's carbonell olive oil has gradually changed over the years from a dark eye'd gypsy woman in to a simpering madrilleno television weather forecaster

this won't do ... it is just another kind of ethnic cleansing

my grandfather sometimes took me for walks by the chain and anchor works ....

but he never mentioned the connection with brunel, everybody's engineering hero

























https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brown_Lenox_%26_Co_Ltd

myfanwy, as sung by welsh people ...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_RjRicjIaKI

Paham mae dicter, O Myfanwy,
Yn llenwi'th lygaid duon di?
A'th ruddiau tirion, O Myfanwy,
Heb wrido wrth fy ngweled i?
Pa le mae'r wên oedd ar dy wefus
Fu'n cynnau 'nghariad ffyddlon ffôl?
Pa le mae sain dy eiriau melys,
Fu'n denu'n nghalon ar dy ôl?

Why so the anger, Oh Myfanwy,
That fill your dark eyes
Your gentle cheeks, Oh Myfanwy,
No longer blush beholding me?
Where now the smile upon your lips
That lit my foolish faithful love?
Where now the sound of your sweet words,
That drew my heart to follow you?

Pa beth a wneuthum, O Myfanwy
I haeddu gwg dy ddwyrudd hardd?
Ai chwarae oeddit, O Myfanwy
 thanau euraidd serch dy fardd?
Wyt eiddo im drwy gywir amod
Ai gormod cadw'th air i mi?
Ni cheisiaf fyth mo'th law, Myfanwy,
Heb gael dy galon gyda hi.

What was it that I did, Oh Myfanwy,
To deserve the frown of your beautiful cheeks?
Was it sport for you, Oh Myfanwy,
This poet's golden flame of love?
You belong to me, through true promise,
Too much to keep your word to me?
I'l never seek your hand, Myfanwy,
Unless I have your heart with her.

Myfanwy boed yr holl o'th fywyd
Dan heulwen ddisglair canol dydd.
A boed i rosyn gwridog iechyd
I ddawnsio ganmlwydd ar dy rudd.
Anghofia'r oll o'th addewidion
A wneist i rywun, 'ngeneth ddel,
A dyro'th law, Myfanwy dirion
I ddim ond dweud y gair "Ffarwél".

Myfanwy, may your life entirely be
Beneath the midday sun's bright glow,
And may a blushing rose of health
Dance on your cheek a hundred years.
I forget all your words of promise
You made to someone, my pretty girl
So give me your hand, my sweet Myfanwy,
For no more but to say "farewell".

mystery object scanned at 1200 dpi on my old epson printer

i was looking for images inspired by stravinsky's firebird when i came across this designer ... boris bucan ... i turned up a few more images by googling his name ... i hope none are mis-attributed

tip-toeing through the V&A glass collection

two nice profiles by john singer sargent ...

a natural pause in the narrative ...

rowland hilder, a popular british landscape artist ... a few images scavenged from the internet