February 17, 2015
February 15, 2015
jug filled sits on table
soup stirs on stove top
dishwasher whirrs
sounds of tidying up in kitchen
running water
plastic pot moves slightly on drainer
out of window branches blow
hot tea warms hand
jug filled sits on table
Bookcase at the Bookstop Cafe
Featuring the Abandoned Sandy Shoe and Other Chinks in the Curtains of Life
Sunday afternoon at the Strugglers
We were taking a walk, Joe and I. Sunday afternoon. The Joseph Banks Conservatory had just closed so we carried on past the castle. Steve was unloading his guitar and audio kit from the car in the car park next to the Strugglers. Ascertaining that he would be starting in around 30 minutes we went in.
The fire was going and the pub oozed the perfect vision of what a British pub should be. Warm, comfortable, inviting. The banter at the bar was entertaining. Unexpected beers on a Sunday afternoon were the perfect way to ease into the evening.
In the early hours and minutes…
It’s definitely light but the world is still waking up. I go downstairs into the kitchen and boil the kettle guided by the weakly permeating rays of the sun. A robin pecks away at the bird feeder outside and two blackbirds hop around the lawn turning over leaves.
The noise of the kettle does not sit well with the calm light portrayed in the picture. Tea made I retreat upstairs leaving the kitchen quiet again.
February 14, 2015
Restricted Zone
This is a restricted zone. No unauthorised access. Personnel without appropriate permissions will be removed by armed guard, locked in the Castle dungeon and forgotten about. By order of the Bishop of Lincoln
FOR GOD’S SAKE BE CAREFUL!
unebriation
this is not a state of inebriation. a couple of glasses of red wine and a bottle of cider. It’s a friday night easing into the weekend. music generated from elsewhere in the house filters through the floor. voices accompany the guitar. its a state of unebriation.
February 13, 2015
Wragby Road as sunset approaches in February
Delicate colours here. Not much traffic. February. Freezing cold. Naked trees. Almost a hybrid of photograph and painting.
The crack
It is the role of art to make you think. It’s not always a cotton wool existence. Sometimes you have to cringe, retreat inside your outer protective layers. Grimace whilst staring illogically at what you see in front of you. Such is this crack. He knows who he is but may never acknowledge it in public.
February 8, 2015
She packs em in
She packs em in the old Mona Lisa. Never seen such crowds stood in front of a picture before. Got to the front after a while and took a few shots. Mainly because everyone else was doing the same thing. Got me phone out and snapped a few. Was trying to imagine if she would go in our front room. Figured she would stand out a bit amongst the montage of kids pics, the old map of the Isle of man and panoramic view of the Liverpool docks frontage. Abandoned the idea. Not for sale anyway and with all that lot hanging around probably wouldn’t have got her for a decent price.
It’s a funny old thing innit. Art. You gotta hand it to em, artists. Couldn’t paint to save me life meself, unless it was painting by numbers. Coming back to old Mona there I’ve decided that no she would definitely not go in our front room. It’s not that the other stuff on the walls would clash. We could shift that to another room if push came to a shove. It’s that I don’t think we could cope with the number of visitors knocking on the door wanting to come in for a gander. Would cost us a fortune in tea bags. I suppose we could charge for the tea. It’s not how it’s done though is it? Charging visitors for a cup of tea when you’ve let em in to your house, uninvited or otherwise.
Nah nah nah. I do think that the Liverpool panorama could definitely move anyway and we could put something else there. That panorama is too long and narrow. Needs something bigger in that space. A Banksy maybe, although if we stuck a Banksy there the map of the Isle of Man would definitely have to move. It’s hundreds of years old. Banksy’s new stuff.
We could get Banksy to come and do the whole wall. Problem with that is that the missus likes to repaint the front room every few years. That Banksy would be a problem then wouldn’t it. She’d have to leave that wall and make sure that the rest of the room had a colour scheme that matched the Banksy. Hrmm. Maybe that counts Banksy out. I won’t write him off yet but I’m not rushing into a decision. Nah.
Have to stick with Liverpool for the mo. She likes that one. She’s from Liverpool and her dad gave it to her. Bought it from a shop in the Albert Dock. I know the one. It’s got the same picture as ours in the window. Must have had two of em.
A good start to a day
It’s another Sunday morning here in the Shire, and a fine one at that. Today Anne is playing host to our friend Natalia’s baby shower. A dozen or so worthy females will be descending on our house this lunchtime to celebrate the forthcoming happy day. It won’t be a place for male presence. The conversation will be highly biassed towards all in one baby suits and birth experiences. Urghh. Preparations have been underway for a few days now. My own contribution, that of lighting the fire in the front room, is already well in hand. In fact I am currently supervising the lit fire to make sure that it stays appropriately lit.
There is a feeling of wellbeing around the house. John is quietly using his hour’s ration on an online game. Terrorising and killing things no doubt, or playing a football match. Seems to be the pattern. Joe has not yet been spotted this morning. He had a late one on Friday night after the rubgy in the Morning Star and spent most of yesterday at music rehearsal of one kind or another before last night’s “Curious Blue” jazz gig in North Hykeham. I didn’t go but now wish I had as Anne came back with excellent reports. Hannah is in her hotel in Paris, hopefully and Tom is in the neo metropolis of Milton Keynes where he is visiting to watch MK Dons play Bristol City or some such worthy set of opponents.
Sat by the fire as I am I can contemplate the day ahead and a set of jobs that spring to mind. I’m not sure any of the said jobs will be done. I’m just noting the fact that they need doing. One is the trimming of the front hedge. The back hedge almost certainly needs doing too but I’d need to crane my neck to see that one. There is also a lot of wood that need putting to the chainsaw. That may get done as the least arduous task on the list. The wood is mainly small branches and some ex-playhouse stairs. Easy enough to dispose of and quite handy as kindling.
None of this is written down, yet. Great consideration must be given to an item before it can be included on the list because once written down it is is officially on the radar with the consequential expectation that it will at some stage be done. The hedges do need doing though. I might get someone in.
As I write the activity levels are growing. The sound of singing and whistling permeates from the kitchen together with the sound of dishes being put in the dishwasher. It’s all happy stuff. The fire is sufficiently lit for it to be left unsupervised. It’s a good start to the day.
February 7, 2015
68 Euro fine
Slightly risky this, getting the camera out in the gents loo. Had to be done though. This sticker needed capturing for posterity. What caught my eye was not the fact that smoking is forbidden in the toilet. That makes sense to me. It was the fact that the fine for being caught at it was 68 Euros. How on earth did they come up with that figure? Maybe it used to be 50 Francs or something.
The bell in the window of the top floor at Le Procope
This is a famous bell. Le Procope is the oldest cafe in Paris. It was frequented by philosophers such as Voltaire and contained a printing press. On the top floor there was a bell in the window. When something had been printed and was ready for distribution they would ring the bell and drop the printed matter to the ground where someone would catch it and take it away.
The girl in the window
Go on. Click on the picture. It’s a window. There is a girl in the window. She is looking at the scene outside. Who is she? What is she thinking?