although the hooks was rarther tricky

i don't have a television, or take much interest normally ...

... but this billboard made me smile ...

... and so does the sign behind it

every time the balloonist tried to land, the breeze took them too close to the hedges of the little fields

 

bogus man rising early to study his book of bronze

sweet genius ... via metafilter ...

http://vimeo.com/57395065

she's only gone and bought me ...

... another wonderful book !

some years after turner came to draw the ruins, we sometimes used to sing stanford's nunc dimittis in C at malmesbury abbey on sunday evenings ...

when i was invited to confirm my loyalty to the church, after five years as a chorister, aged about fourteen, i declined, and nowadays i really dislike the imperialist triumphalist lyrics more than ever, but i still think that stanford's amen we sang was very nice ...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qsnBDU0RTNM

of course, fifty years on times have changed ...

... i wish i could find out the name of this photographer, to whom much credit is due

... and i think el greco would certainly have liked the lighting and the colour scheme

when hedgehogs itch ...

poetry !!!

carol-ann duffy's poem ...

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2013/feb/14/chaucers-valentine-poem-duffy?INTCMP=SRCH


and her podcast ...
http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/audio/2013/feb/14/love-poems-carol-ann-duffy-podcast?INTCMP=SRCH

rehearsing the musical version of the shining

DJ Derek ... lovely man ... lovely Bristol accent ... parts 1 & 2

http://vimeo.com/1758371


http://vimeo.com/1758440

from thomas cole ...

... to meret oppenheim; a century of progress

blimey ! its the year of the snake again !

alvi, my grandson, and his equally lovely cousin mabel

stopped for a pee ... was spoiled for choice

dyed-in-the-wool hedonists setting a poor example to future generations of sober modern persons such as you and me ...

intolerable frivolity in the V&A

but soft ... what light through yonder window breaks ? ...

Spem in alium ... for a friend's well-loved cat, recently departed

A 1611 letter written by the law student Thomas Wateridge contains the following anecdote:

In Queen Elizabeth's time yeere was a songe sen[t] into England of 30 parts (whence the Italians obteyned ye name to be called ye Apices of the world) wch beeinge songe mad[e] a heavenly Harmony. The Duke of — bearinge a great love to Musicke asked whether none of our Englishmen could sett as good a songe, and Tallice beinge very skilfull was felt to try whether he would undertake ye matter, wch he did and made one of 40 partes wch was songe in the longe gallery at Arundell house, wch so farre surpassed ye other that the Duke, hearinge yt songe, tooke his chayne of Gold from his necke & putt yt about Tallice his necke and gave yt him.^[1]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Cn7ZW8ts3Y

a river of sheep ...

... flowing to the market

i should be doing the compulsory hoovering ...

... but a combination of weekender's inertia and whimsicality provoked me to copy & paste an old blog into google translator ... which will then read it aloud for you in a foreign language once you click the audio icon at bottom right  ...

this was the text i copied, and the translation was instantaneous

"Breathless thoughts provoked by the excitement of an impending trip to Madrid and my dream of introducing a new dimension of transcendant spirituality in to the great game ... the magic sponge might become a relic ... the thrice-blessed universally-revered holy sponge, permanently floating in a silver bucket suspended over a holy well, to be carried in procession on match days by a team of hand-picked virgins ( or tv weather girls ? ) wearing translucent classical robes, chanting every step of the way from the bishop's chapel to the stadium, to the accompaniment of thumping drums and wailing flutes ... the water would, of course, be genuine certified holy water, not yer ordinary bottled stuff, and might be paid for by the donations of pious widows and spinsters of the parish ... in fact i see no reason why the sponge shouldn't be administered as a kind of unction by a priest, and/or by the mother superior of the nearest holy order, with the blessed hem of her robe rolled up and tucked into her formal suspender belt as she kneels to give succour to the distressed combatant, whilst singing nuns and choirboys encircle the injured player to protect his privacy and to soothe away his pain with a medieval psalm, or an uplifting medley from rogers and hammerstein’s sound of music ... we could even send on a military brass band to escort the bucket & lend further ceremonial dignity at this difficult moment ... and then, once the magic has taken effect, the star player could leap on to an ornate mobile pulpit, drawn to the centre of the pitch by a team of prancing white horses, grabbing the microphone to give up a suitable prayer of thanks for his deliverance, followed by a vote of gratitude to almost everyone present, and to the various sponsors, for their kindness and consideration ... except for the stone-faced blue-chinned piratically-cynical back four of the visiting team, of course ... i'm not sure if i want to raise the crowd to lord leighton's lofty ideal of elegant and fashionable piety ..."

... and i rarther enjoy the thought that my script is probably being read by a top actress ...

POSTSCRIPT: my other dreams are shattered ... i've discovered that her indoors has been moving the fluff that was under the bed and hiding it behind the sofa