in memoriam at mereworth, gor blimey !
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
the cheese man pauses at mereworth church in kent
1831 Topographical DictionaryMEREWORTH, a parish in the hundred of LITTLEFIELD, lathe of AYLESFORD, county of KENT, 5 miles (S.E.) from Wrotham, containing 711 inhabitants. The church, dedicated to St. Lawrence, was rebuilt by John, Earl of Westmorland: it is a very handsome structure, with a fine Corinthian portico, and surmounted by a lofty spire: the whole edifice is constructed of different sorts of stone, and the eastern window is of painted glass, collected for the purpose by that nobleman. The grazing land in this parish is supposed to breed the largest oxen in England, some of them having exceeded three hundred stone. This parish is bounded on the north by the Hurst woods.
Monday, September 05, 2005
chocolate cake with ganache icing and piping - a public announcement
it's no use begging; the cake in yesterdays blog has all gone !
Sunday, September 04, 2005
Monday, August 29, 2005
Friday, August 26, 2005
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
an unsignposted diversion
sometimes chance provokes what i like to call "an unsignposted diversion"
having set out unusually early for kent, and seen the sky colouring up quite psychedelically, instinct commanded that i drive half a mile away from my regular route to the waterside at greenwich
alright, i know pink skies are two a penny on the internet, but i was very happy !
having set out unusually early for kent, and seen the sky colouring up quite psychedelically, instinct commanded that i drive half a mile away from my regular route to the waterside at greenwich
alright, i know pink skies are two a penny on the internet, but i was very happy !
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Sunday, August 21, 2005
in the sunday silences between jumbos
i really don't mind being right on the noisy centre line with the two parallel heathrow runways because i love the grace and precision of airplanes/aeroplanes and will always marvel as they circle and swoop down after their ten-thousand mile leaps of faith
so in the early light i stand at our window in my posh blue pyjamas and admire three identical british airways giants crossing the space above us in succession
outside our window is a lush triangular green lawn about sixty yards by fifty by forty with nineteen trees where fifteen wood pigeons are foraging in the short grass, a squirrel scavenging in a rubbish bin at the far side, and the most elegant and athletic young black cat who pads lightly across the green from left to right and through the trees with his sharp eyes already on the squirrel who sits on top of a steel door munching a large piece of stale bread
the cat instinctively hides in a shadow beneath a car for a minute, possibly hoping the squirrel has a short attention span, and then moves to another shadow beneath a wheely-bin only about ten feet from the squirrel's perch where he crouches for another minute
the squirrel chews thoughtfully until the cat trots towards the door and then the squirrel launches himself out into neutral territory, at right angles to the cat's approach, the bread still in his mouth, and races in a tight curve around the back of another car and then makes a straight line towards the trees which the cat came from two minutes ago
there are twenty yards to go and the cat catches up fast and the gap between them shrinks from fifteen feet to five in about two seconds but then the squirrel makes a wonderful leap about four feet up the tree trunk and scrabbles up into the branches leaving one disappointed cat sitting ten feet underneath, back arched, tail swishing and twitching, but then calming down and sitting and waiting
the squirrel finishes his bread at leisure and then climbs higher to the outermost branch, steadies himself while it sways and bends before leaping far away into the next tree
game over
later, as the loved one emerges slowly from her dreamland, i suggest that if she really loved those fluffy little squirrels then she'd already be knitting their socks and mittens for the coming winter
no coherent or printable reply is forthcoming
so in the early light i stand at our window in my posh blue pyjamas and admire three identical british airways giants crossing the space above us in succession
outside our window is a lush triangular green lawn about sixty yards by fifty by forty with nineteen trees where fifteen wood pigeons are foraging in the short grass, a squirrel scavenging in a rubbish bin at the far side, and the most elegant and athletic young black cat who pads lightly across the green from left to right and through the trees with his sharp eyes already on the squirrel who sits on top of a steel door munching a large piece of stale bread
the cat instinctively hides in a shadow beneath a car for a minute, possibly hoping the squirrel has a short attention span, and then moves to another shadow beneath a wheely-bin only about ten feet from the squirrel's perch where he crouches for another minute
the squirrel chews thoughtfully until the cat trots towards the door and then the squirrel launches himself out into neutral territory, at right angles to the cat's approach, the bread still in his mouth, and races in a tight curve around the back of another car and then makes a straight line towards the trees which the cat came from two minutes ago
there are twenty yards to go and the cat catches up fast and the gap between them shrinks from fifteen feet to five in about two seconds but then the squirrel makes a wonderful leap about four feet up the tree trunk and scrabbles up into the branches leaving one disappointed cat sitting ten feet underneath, back arched, tail swishing and twitching, but then calming down and sitting and waiting
the squirrel finishes his bread at leisure and then climbs higher to the outermost branch, steadies himself while it sways and bends before leaping far away into the next tree
game over
later, as the loved one emerges slowly from her dreamland, i suggest that if she really loved those fluffy little squirrels then she'd already be knitting their socks and mittens for the coming winter
no coherent or printable reply is forthcoming
Friday, August 19, 2005
unpridicktible wever
when i woke, at three-thirty, the rain was rattling down mercilessly, but it eased off as i began to pedal to work and, a half an hour later the roads in nine elms were dry and the night-lads had come out of their refrigerated warehouse to snatch a few minutes sleep on the comparitively warm pavement
on the way down to worthing i passed through a couple of squalls but it was only after my first drop at the cheeseman's quayside warehouse on shoreham harbour that the sky began to lively up
by the time i drove by the promenade at hove, people were stopping to gape at the colours and i leapt from the van just in time to take this view of the approaching storm ...
on the way down to worthing i passed through a couple of squalls but it was only after my first drop at the cheeseman's quayside warehouse on shoreham harbour that the sky began to lively up
by the time i drove by the promenade at hove, people were stopping to gape at the colours and i leapt from the van just in time to take this view of the approaching storm ...
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
eric ravilious serendipity
one of the best birthday cards that i had yesterday came from the loved one, showing a painting by eric ravilious of a third class train carriage interior with a view towards the westbury white horse.
a most appropriate choice for me because i'm a wiltshire lad,
because i have happy though vague early memories of travelling in similar carriages during the early nineteen-fifties,
and because train journeys still occupy a significant portion of my dreamspace
this morning i went image searching on the net and the first ravilious painting that i found was the "corresponding" view from "up on top" of the white horse, looking down on the train!
when you've finished looking at eric's work, do go and find some of the images by james, his son, a most wonderful photographer
a most appropriate choice for me because i'm a wiltshire lad,
because i have happy though vague early memories of travelling in similar carriages during the early nineteen-fifties,
and because train journeys still occupy a significant portion of my dreamspace
this morning i went image searching on the net and the first ravilious painting that i found was the "corresponding" view from "up on top" of the white horse, looking down on the train!
when you've finished looking at eric's work, do go and find some of the images by james, his son, a most wonderful photographer
Monday, August 15, 2005
A lucky mistake
A despatcher's mistake took me back to Brighton this morning, a day sooner than expected, and the sea was luvverly an' blue. After my drops were complete, I went down to the rocks ( by the white houses I call Millionaires' Row ) for a quick swim, and was delighted to find some hard working birdiez down by the water line who were hungry enough to ignore me. Its a struggle to get clear shots of birds with a small wobbly camera but this one seems OK.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
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