http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2012/aug/12/labradors-crackdown-italy-cash-smugglers
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Saturday, August 11, 2012
this is dev ...
... who was born in bangladesh but has lived in london since 1953 ... we often chat on a bench on clapham common ... he struggles heroically with mortality and despair and the fog of memory ... he is a disciplined exerciser of the body, still, but not the mind ... neither of us think there is a heaven or an afterlife ... i think that the only afterlife is the one we instinctively invent for those that we most love and miss ... dev finds it hard to concentrate nowadays but occasionally he shows the origins of his spiritual roots when he asks that ancient rhetorical question "why are the gods punishing us ?" ... today we failed to agree a viewpoint on the subject of justice ... i am more interested in the due processes of inquiry after the crime and during the trial than in whether the culprit is punished ... the example i used was tony blair, who has yet to stand trial for "blithely unleashing the dogs of war" on innocent civilians ... i don't care if blair lives or dies but i fancifully want him to visit the scenes of his crime and to understand and acknowledge the consequences of his folly ...
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_dogs_of_war_(phrase)
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Monday, August 6, 2012
3BT
In the
middle of the night, the humidity relieved by a cooling breeze, a girl in the flimsiest of summer dresses gets off the bus
at the same stop and asks if she can use my phone because hers is dead and she
has mislaid her boyfriend. Sweet voiced.
Sweetly perfumed. She stands too close to me. Is it my imagination or can I feel the heat rising
from her body against my cheek ? She also
gives off that other scent ... of one who will
never know when to stop drinking.
Coming
homewards in the afternoon, a very black skinned woman is sitting in the seat
across the aisle from mine. She is tall
and muscular and has the up-turned-est
nose you ever saw. She sits erect, head
back so that the prominent cheekbone extends in a long horizontal line from the
middle of the ear to just below the eye and you can see her face's every sinew moving beneath the skin. She is
knitting, with ferocioius dedication. Extremely
long slender fingers drawing thin scarlet wool from a carrier bag in her lap
and row after row of tiny identical stitches forming with unflinching
certainty. My mother used to knit,
freestyle, artistically, and so I watch, fascinated now, with both pleasure and pain.
Wearily, I
open the door of our empty flat and discover a fat envelope from Spain, addressed in a lively
script to Señor Tristan Forward, and I am rejuvenated.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
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Saturday, August 4, 2012
there was no evidence of human sacrifice when i approached the sacriligious artefact ...
... there was a slight delay ... they had to deflate it after vainly trying to re-join the two halves ... and then there was happiness all around ... and there's a nice new cafe in the newly landscaped park, too ...
http://festival.london2012.com/events/9000963231
http://www.southwark.gov.uk/info/461/a_to_z_of_parks/1293/burgess_park/1
http://www.southwark.gov.uk/downloads/download/1053/lda_design_for_burgess_park
Friday, August 3, 2012
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
3BT
Wages are credited to my empty account.
I turn off the engine in the dairy farm yard and sit quietly
watching the resident swallows flying around only six inches above the
concrete.
I stop the truck and switch off the engine once more in a narrow country lane as seven
schoolgirls squeeze by on their nervous ponies, and I try not to smirk as I recall
those Thelwell cartoons.
Monday, July 30, 2012
in the limden valley between stonegate and ticehurst
... in response to the question you don't often ask yourself ...
"what makes truck drivers content with their lot ?"
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