humphry smith, THE humphry smith

plutarch's ponies in pastures green abiding

apropos de nuffinque, encore

3BT 23rd September 2011

When the morning sun is low and dazzlingly yellow, the road sweeps gently up and around a low hill, passing a mature oak tree in dark full leaf.  At the same time the mist from the wide valley beyond has flowed up and over the tree like a low wave.  As the truck speeds past the tree, and the sun appears to race past it on the other side, so tiny sunbeams emerge through the foliage into the mist as bars of light and do so in a very interesting way.  The perspective of diminishing parallel lines means that each is perceived as a long wedge of golden mist, disappearing into a needle point towards the glowing heart of the tree.  Each beam fades in and out of vision as we pass and the overall effect is illusory, that they form the offset spokes of a turning wheel that has no outer edge.

High above industrial Brixton, I spy an unfamiliar movement and focus on a small pale hawk being circled and harassed by some kind of crow that is twice as big.  They move higher and higher as the crow repeatedly tries to strike the hawk.  When they have almost disappeared into the midday brightness the hawk turns away in a long dive, gathering speed all the time but, to my surprise, the crow keeps right behind him until they disappear from view behind a neighbouring factory.

Having skipped on to an empty bus at four in the morning to go to work, I eventually drag my stressed and exhausted self on to another at five thirty during the journey home.  Miraculously, in the middle of a very busy rush hour, on this very crowded bus, the seat nearest to the door is vacant !  Phew !

and not a bad piano player, neither !

just about the first record i ever bought, nina simone, so fierce and gentle

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gv9717YTmsQ

hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! for diamond geezer

http://diamondgeezer.blogspot.com/2011/09/200-things-i-love-about-london.html

colin busby forward

my dad died ten years ago today

he was very fond of village pantomimes

i imagine there will be pantos all year round in his part of heaven

and there woz light ! pure genius .... pass it on !

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-pacific-14967535

why waste these thousands of berries from the yew hedge at audley end ? ... i'm sure they'd make a delicious pink gin

more stuff from southwold

success won't turn her head

1830-ish cast iron at Yoxford

i say ! isn't that a mini ha-ha ?

damn ! ... neither for sale nor in my possession

the bronte sisters' naughty cousins are doing it for themselves

http://www.craggsisters.co.uk/

more alderburghian architectural gems

immaculate angels in dedham church

sentimental doggy tosh in aldeburgh

by the door in blythburgh churchyard

surely by the same artist ... i like the way the cherubs' heads incline to one another across that little gap and across all those years

and i like to think that someone like thomas hardy might have filled that little gap with a thousand pages

fresh air ... i must remember to clear the fish and chip wrappers and the salt and vinegar from the bedside table before the loved one gets home from her evening class

at the door of the fry gallery ... lovely place, lovely people .... in saffron walden

one of my holiday snaps

we are going in to the country for a few days ... see you soon !

two new york blogs ... even travel by proxy broadens the mind

http://www.overheardinnewyork.com/

http://streetnine.com/

unicorns on steroids ... saint george's, bloomsbury

http://www.stgeorgesbloomsbury.org.uk/tour.htm

more frivolity ... someone's only gone and created an australian garden in the yard at the british museum

they've even included a grass tree ... http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Xanthorrhoea_glauca

friverless craftsmen

sweet cowboy music by dan reeder via metafilter

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WUeMYn20ZSU

aunt mavis, aged 96 and a half

...reminding me of that Thomas Hardy poem, Heredity

I am the family face; 
Flesh perishes, I live on, 
Projecting trait and trace 
Through time to times anon, 
And leaping from place to place 
Over oblivion. 

The years-heired feature that can 
In curve and voice and eye 
Despise the human span 
Of durance -- that is I; 
The eternal thing in man, 
That heeds no call to die

tristan savatier's burning man slideshow ... i'm not sure if it is this year's or last

http://www.flickr.com/photos/loupiote/sets/72157625063388734/show/

it is last years, so i'm eagerly awaiting the latest set

"how long have you been reading shorpy ?" "i dunno ! how long is a piece of string ?"

http://www.shorpy.com/node/11188?size=_original

! cih

Travel broadens the mind, some say ...

I once travelled all night on a train from Paris Austerlitz to Narbonne and then went to a bar just opposite the station to wait for some friends to collect me.

It was just before seven and still dark.  There were two other customers standing at the bar, taxi drivers so burly they made me seem fairy-like.

The barman was of a similar stature to his clients, but had chosen to wear a low cut blouse and a blonde wig which, with an application of copious amounts of theatrical make-up, seemed to signify that he wished he had been born as Brigitte Bardot’s identical twin.

Never again will I be astonished by the Triumph of Hope over Adversity.

british national costume ... historical evidence, if it were needed, of the utility of red underwear

george collinson and lea velez, man and wife

george has been ill for a number of years

lea posted the following statement yesterday

George sigue en Puerta de Hierro. Tiene varios tumores en el cerebro. Recuerdo cuando montaba en la montaña rusa y el carro subía y subía aquella empinada cuesta que te dejaba el estómago encogido con la anticipación de la inevitable caída

semiotics ! don't talk to me about ...