3BT 19th July 2011

A grey silhouette, the statue of a soldier on a Great War memorial seems to glance sideways across Streatham Common through the early mist towards Flanders.


In the early sunlight of the same misty morning, the miles of grey razor wire curled all along the dewdropped netting of the airport perimeter have sunlit cobwebs in every loop.

The loved one returns from her brief exile in the Isle of Wight, cleans the bath, and later serves a perfect supper … a glass of prosecco next to a dish of pasta cooked with fennel and garlic, raisins and sardines “al limone”.

i just heard from his wife donna, that tony stimpson, that human fountain of laughter and kindness, has slipped away from us to go twinkle again amongst the stars ... so long, dear dear friend, i had been missing you already

No man is an island, 
Entire of itself. 
Each is a piece of the continent, 
A part of the main. 
If a clod be washed away by the sea, 
Europe is the less. 
As well as if a promontory were. 
As well as if a manor of thine own 
Or of thine friend's were. 
Each man's death diminishes me, 
For I am involved in mankind. 
Therefore, send not to know 
For whom the bell tolls, 
It tolls for thee.

found at last ...

in a book stall at salehurst church ... marvelously musty but at an affordable price, nearly thirty years since first admiring the contents ... and having just found it, i then fell off the tiny wobbly seat in the bookstall, grazing my knuckles, banging my pelvis ( ischium ) on the sharp edge of a stone step, twisting the knee that had surgery two years ago, and whacking the side of my skull on a stone pillar ... my common expletive roared out and is probably still echoing around .. but ... mustn't grumble !

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

how the church accumulates land and capital ... two thousand years on, latifundia still rears its ugly head in spain

http://www.elpais.com/articulo/sociedad/escuela/era/obispo/elpepisoc/20110716elpepisoc_4/Tes

workmate kev, with some family heirlooms

keeping the grass tidy in salehurst churchyard

a harmer plaque in salehurst churchyard

http://www.villagenet.co.uk/history/1799-harmer.html

today is the official birthday of "lady lavender" aka "the loved one", librarian to the stars ... we may pop in to town

3BT

Paul, a real Old Kent Road type with no inhibitions, and I, are standing in the yard with our trucks at dawn, wearing our new high-visibility jackets.  A jumbo jet approaches from the south, over Brixton Prison, when it should be approaching from the east.  We call out and wave our arms.  Catching sight of us, the pilot executes a steep turn, just in time to line up with the runway at Heathrow.  Job done !

Two old customers, big hotels sadly missed for the last year or two, begin to order from us once more.  Especially cheering because each has a charming, intelligent, personable individual doing the “goods in” job.

New potatoes, boiled in their skins, then chilled and smothered in garlic mayonnaise.  Enough calories for me to run a marathon, were I so inclined.

3BT

A flock of light brown sparrows chaotically zig-zagging across a light brown field of wheat that is bending and waving before a hot southern wind.

Looking up to the first pink clouds at dawn in Brixton and seeing the swifts are already flying high.

Entering the darkened kitchen after nightfall to wash the dishes and having my eyeballs unexpectedly tickled by the silent shimmer of a distant firework display.

hungry ? ... angela lansbury catering in the days before red tape was invented ... brush up on your spanish at the same time

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8r_jc8_P8X0

a rare bargain from oxfam in reigate, a charity book shop where the working classes can no longer expect to find a bargain

the usual suspects

a passing acquaintance ...

stop press wedding of the century .... laura and roy

a startling message from beyond the gravy by the indefatigably workaholic richard nye

i'm not yet quite sure how to trigger the animation ... click on it ?

peripheral vision

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.

oh, what fun !

frivverless ... steve bell contextualizes our guvinmint in today's guardian

who the hell took this picture ? blah blah blah so help me !