Sunday, November 6, 2011
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Friday, October 21, 2011
some of this week's BTs
Walking from the bus stop to the work place on a moonlit night, seen across the dark open space of a newly demolished factory, silhouetted against the brightly lit laundry in acre lane, the elegant black form of a sure-footed young fox trotting sixty yards along the narrow top of a six foot wall.
Later, in the brilliant cloudless mid-morning, in the High Weald, whilst loading the truck on a steep ramp besides a small cheese factory, i lift my head at the sound of horseshoes in the lane, and see two white ponies trotting up the gentle slope towards Stonegate village, silhouetted against the cold blue sky with two stout ladies bouncing in the saddles.
Back in the city, seen from the top deck of the homeward bus, quite unusually, a pair of falcons, unfamiliar to me with short wings and deep chests and dark tails, clearly side-lit in the late afternoon sunlight whilst circling on a thermal for a long time, high, but not too high, above a supermarket near the crossroads at Clapham Junction, where, by an improbable coincidence, there stands a famous Victorian pub named The Falcon.
Later, in the brilliant cloudless mid-morning, in the High Weald, whilst loading the truck on a steep ramp besides a small cheese factory, i lift my head at the sound of horseshoes in the lane, and see two white ponies trotting up the gentle slope towards Stonegate village, silhouetted against the cold blue sky with two stout ladies bouncing in the saddles.
Back in the city, seen from the top deck of the homeward bus, quite unusually, a pair of falcons, unfamiliar to me with short wings and deep chests and dark tails, clearly side-lit in the late afternoon sunlight whilst circling on a thermal for a long time, high, but not too high, above a supermarket near the crossroads at Clapham Junction, where, by an improbable coincidence, there stands a famous Victorian pub named The Falcon.
one bt, although sometimes there isn't time to grab the camera ...
Last saturday, after sitting in an empty carriage for twenty minutes whilst my train was held at brockenhurst station, i went to the door just in time to see a huge steam locomotive drawing a long train of ancient carriages stained with years of use and filled with happy day trippers heading for corfe castle ... but there wasn't time to grab the camera
Six hours later, as i walked back from the hospice at christchurch to the station, i heard the same train thundering under the bridge, but just too far away for me to run with my camera ... so all i saw was the cloud of smoke, and all i smelled was soot and sulphur.
An hour and a half afterwards, as my train slid quietly through the darkness towards london, i caught a faint whiff of that sulphur and soot again, ... and a minute later we were gradually overtaking the dimly lit steam excursion carriages, so slowly that i could see the fabrics on the seats, the crisp linen tablecloths, the glinting brass table lamps ... and then the open plan carriages where old fashioned families sprawled amongst shopping bags, cast off coats, huddles of children ... and all so gradually that there was time for them to wave at me and for me to wave back.
http://www.swanagerailway.co.uk/news783.htm
Six hours later, as i walked back from the hospice at christchurch to the station, i heard the same train thundering under the bridge, but just too far away for me to run with my camera ... so all i saw was the cloud of smoke, and all i smelled was soot and sulphur.
An hour and a half afterwards, as my train slid quietly through the darkness towards london, i caught a faint whiff of that sulphur and soot again, ... and a minute later we were gradually overtaking the dimly lit steam excursion carriages, so slowly that i could see the fabrics on the seats, the crisp linen tablecloths, the glinting brass table lamps ... and then the open plan carriages where old fashioned families sprawled amongst shopping bags, cast off coats, huddles of children ... and all so gradually that there was time for them to wave at me and for me to wave back.
http://www.swanagerailway.co.uk/news783.htm
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Saturday, October 15, 2011
read all about it ! read all about it ! mystery patient ( tina schol, the last time i set eyes on her ) wears no-longer-fashionable sweater knitted by photographer's mother ( sylvia forward ) twenty-five years ago whilst scrutinizing terry pratchett interview in today's guardian ... and she's only the very same person that slipped a copy of "mort" to me about twenty years ago
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