southwark ... the golden hind, the cathedral, and the borough market

i woke up at my usual work time so i used my wonderful freedom pass to cross the city before sunrise ... this was early on saturday whilst it was still friday evening in los angeles, hence the friday byeline at the top of the page

3BT, 21st July 2011

About an hour after a wet grey dawn the clouds began to fragment and then a dozen silver sunbeams formed an inverted fan in to which the relatively tiny smudged shape of a distant jumbo jet descended and slowly turned. I had forgot how big the sky.


Later, in the Sussex Weald, I drove the truck quite slowly up a steep lane through a darkly shaded tunnel of trees and far away at the top of the slope there gleamed an oval patch of brilliant green, too bright at that distance for me to know if it was field or foliage … and in that second, two very tall and long-legged thoroughbred horses pranced into the pool of light with their riders.


At day’s end, the lumpy grey clouds re-arranged themselves around the setting sun and caught fire, as if Tiepolo and Turner had taken sides in some kind of Heavenly Paint Wars. This would be the ideal setting for an allegorical painting featuring the apotheosis of all of my favourite bloggers, tinted with a glowing distillation of all their many shades of sweetness and laughter. I’m not sure if they would prefer to be dressed in skimpy arrangements of fur and feathers, or seamless raiments. Fight amongst yourselves, friends.

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 !

grrrr!

i spent an hour trying to book rail tickets online with southernrailway.com

they wanted me to set up an account

i don't really want an account i just need a ticket and i'd be glad to pay

they insist i set up an account with my e-mail address and a password

then they said the password was invalid

then they asked me to set up an account again

then they put the fare up

so i'm going by bus ... it takes twice as long to get there but the booking system is comparitively open and transparent

i wonder how many customers they alienate on a daily basis ?

to the museum of london to see the london street photography show with andrew hinder ... we've only been acquainted about fifty-five years

http://www.museumoflondon.org.uk/London-Wall/Whats-on/Exhibitions-Displays/London-Street-Photography/

a quick stopover at warbleton church in east sussex

happy birthday, brother .... with more love and respect than you can probably imagine

Yet another 3BT

Staring intently into a dress shop window, leaning forward on her crutches, a young woman with only one leg, but it really is a very nice dynamic sort of a leg … with a very smart high-heeled shoe at the end of it.

Just after four in the morning, in the last shadows of night on the north edge of Clapham Common, at random but in the space of only about two hundred yards, ten young foxes busily searching the short damp grass with their noses.

On a zebra crossing by Putney Station, I side-step an oncoming goddess, a modern Atalanta.  She is tall enough to look over my head and is wearing very short muddy shorts over sinewy thighs ... and a pair of muddy football boots with the laces knotted together are draped over her shoulder.