the new emotional blackmailer's handbook

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

barcelona stuff that's "fit to print" ... in no particular order

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

in the gaudi museum at casa mila / la pedrera

my zero-calorie drink of choice

Monday, September 13, 2010

the new truck ! a set of blue flashing lights on the top would see me easing safely through the rush hour traffic ...

Sunday, September 12, 2010

botero's tom cat in rambla del raval

in many ways it is monumental and fun, and it offers the photographer interesting perspectives ... but as art, it refuses or fails to capture any of the essence and grace of a living animal, and thus, on a rare occasion, fails to express botero's humanity ... as art it falls in to the abyss of truly monumental mediocrity

thank goodness snow white has already prepared their supper ...

hurrah for the huge fold-out menu at cafe velodromo in muntaner

currently unoccupied and in urgent need of modernization ... a nice little furnished flat in the passeig de gracia ...

return to casa mila, where all this ...

... is held up with this !

a charming domestic scene

donna and tony in guadix

quote of the week ... the loved one observed that i'd been anis-thetizing my taste buds

Sunday, September 5, 2010

par avion ... see you in a week

Saturday, September 4, 2010

paternal wisdom

i've spent wildly on literature this week and, when my book arrived, was unexpectedly reminded of a conversation with my father when he had been retired from work a little while

i asked why he kept a large coil of rope near his bed

"in case of fire"

Friday, September 3, 2010

a holiday is imminent ... how should i dress in barcelona ?

a bit of local colour

Thursday, September 2, 2010

yet another 3BT

In the early sunshine on Clapham Common, a girl comes bounding into the avenue who might be described as a pocket rocket, every limb bursting with inflated muscle, not sinewy but more like rising dough … and she remains straight-backed as she lifts both arms to adjust a silky ponytail, moving it a little higher without breaking the rapid rhythm of her stride or losing any of her speed, and then, having lowered her arms again, she gently accelerates into a full sprint that curves away out of sight ... all too soon.

Next night, during a dream, I take yet another of a lifetime of interesting nocturnal journeys, and find myself in a village of picturesque cottages, some in ruin or disrepair, but many kept beautifully and delightfully furnished. Rushing in elation from house to house, I find myself on a village green that is so large and undulates so spectacularly that it might easily be used as a golf course, and I begin to run, and then feeling my cool bare feet moving effortlessly across the grass, I take great leaps, each of which might qualify me for an Olympic record. Then, without explanation, I raise my pillow above my head with both hands and use it as a hang glider so that I swoop and wheel above the hedges and walls. In a moment I am teaching villagers and visitors this new skill, and we wonder how we hadn’t learned it before … it seeming so easy now and so natural.

Waking with a thirst from these moments of joy, I go to stand quietly in the kitchen, first peeling an orange and then slicing an apple in the dark.

peek-a-boo

Monday, August 30, 2010

no visible tattoos ... yet !

i got the idea from something that zhoen had written ...

http://onewordisenough.blogspot.com/2010/08/shush.html

ghost

at the back of the old ram brewery in wandsworth

Thursday, August 26, 2010

they are dramatizing this on bbc radio seven at the moment ... anyone who knows brighton might be interested

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Brightonomicon

http://beta.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/console/b00d3kmq/The_Brightonomicon_The_Incredible_Encounter_with_Hugo_Rune

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

beautiful people from 1960 ... there's still time to watch "a bout de souffle" at the bfi

and to revel in a bit of film making fun and fireworks that is filled with grace and laughter

Monday, August 23, 2010

three more beautiful things ...

a letter i've been struggling to write to an old friend for the last seven days suddenly leaps onwards from page four to page fourteen

i find just the right kind of walking and working boots i've been wanting to buy after days of searching and i proudly wear them even whilst i type, sitting here well after my usual bed time in my third best pyjamas

the house empties after a jolly gathering of buddhists and i re-possess the sofa, sitting by chance in just the right position for a powerful moonbeam to smack me in the eye