stop press: putney beachcomber discovers fossilized sky

bloody 'ell, tris ... they're more like bumble bees than bluebirds !

bluebirds engraved by brian eagle in the brick shed behind his council house in trowbridge ... the front one in 1982, ten years before the follower ... on the first occasion, brian's hair was jet black, on the second 'twas snowy white ... as you know, the bluebirds signify innocence in the pursuit of happiness, from whence their owner's childish expression ... and as i've reported previously, it isn't arrested development, it's a straightforward case of accelerated regression

… not long after the first tattoo was made, one hot sweaty afternoon in july 1985, I made my way to the parish of Saint Paul’s in Bristol for the wonderful (mostly) Caribbean street carnival … and having witnessed a fine procession, and visited the long street of stalls and bandstands, a terrible thirst came upon me, so I fought my way inch by inch through a jolly crowd to the bar of the Inkerman, a large square Victorian pub with a sweet-natured clientele (in those days) and a thriving night-life … and as I waited for my glass to be filled, a lady with a strong brown shoulder and a conspicuous cleavage softly pushed her perfumed self into the paper-thin gap at my side and commanded the provision of two pints of beer and two steak and kidney pies … then confidently taking a full pint mug in each hand, she crossed her arms and instructed that the hot pies be placed in the crooks of the arms, and wincing from the heat of the pies, she then eased her stately path back into the crowded street, with me not far behind ... there, with commendable elegance, she stepped in to the gutter, crossed her little pointy feet, lowered her bottom very slowly to the kerb and sat there cross-legged in the sun, without spilling a drop on her new blue jeans … she then ate both pies and drank both pints, pausing now and then to speak to a number of middle-aged working men who were all on first-name terms … and then, having finished her breakfast/lunch, she turned to me for a light, which I didn’t have but someone else did … and whilst she smoked and before she left to go about her business, I seized the opportunity to ask about the intriguing tattoo around her ankle, the rounded and sloping script of which seemed indecipherable … she said she had once spent a rainy Saturday drinking in Hastings with some “clients”, a group of sailors, who took her to a tattoo parlour … and whilst they were being tattooed, she concentrated on finishing their bottle of whiskey, and when they turned at the end and offered to pay for her, and then lifted her bodily in to the tattooist’s chair, she was too dazed to argue or resist … the tattooist politely and patiently asked what design she wished for, but all she could mumble was “I don’t fucking know !” … and that was why he wrote his name and telephone number around her ankle !

burt lancaster and nick cravat in the crimson pirate ... the dvd is out in the uk

of course it is rubbish, most of the acting and the script are lamentable ... but its the kind of rubbish small boys like me would have loved to watch in the sevenpenny seats at the athelstan cinema in malmesbury on a saturday afternoon in about 1957 ... and i'm always willing to watch burt making the most out of any role ... have you seen the leopard, or trapeze ?

just before the sun comes out in hove

spire of saint lawrence jewry reflected

carriages/studios on great eastern street

describe the horoscope, haruspicate, or scry

after i'd eaten this lightly bruised pink lady ...

... and just as the loved one was buttoning up her jacket to sally forth ... i aimed a misguided compliment in her direction ... "you're looking very upper class today !" ... a particular sort of look told me that i should have said above, or beyond, rather than upper

the kiss principle

many years ago, a geordie feller gave me a job in the silicon chip design business

so i was quite surprised when he turned out to be a real high flyer

then he introduced me to his mate, a real live professor from california ... who turned out to be another geordie

the first design principle they taught me was THE KISS PRINCIPLE

... "Keep It Simple, Stupid !"

of course, it turned out to be an aspiration rather than a rule

the universe abhorrs a vacuum and life is the antithesis of simplicity

i dedicate this picture to their laughter ... and to their memory

archie and son

passing by the albert memorial

double glazing at the albert hall

the royal college of organists

wet and windy kensington gardens

all saints at crowborough

whew ! a tragedy ... fabulously filled with fun and poetry and beauty

gallery talk ... what's a pretty girl like you doing in a fetid compost of decadence such as this ?

this urn is one of a set of four ... when i rule the earth i can have one in each corner of the scullery

oh, those gruesome victorians ... truth plucking out the tongue from falsehood

gardeners' question time ... name these ten foot monsters in the courtyard of the V&A

in the great courtyard at the V&A ... the apotheosis of the working classes ?

fishing tackle shop by south kensington underground station

still reading moby dick, so i nip in to the natural history museum ...

... to look at the whalebones

paul schofield ... michelangelo

check out the late great paul schofield in this one-man play about michelangelo

the wednesday play, frost in florence, by david pownall

http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/arts/afternoon_play.shtml

stop press: my brother greg is setting out soon to walk from biarritz to santiago de compostela ... you'll need an 'at, bruv

... and so, even though little red riding hood had chosen the path "less traveled by", the pub was still shut

... actually, the idea of little red riding hood encountering the green man might enchant other fans of "the thinking man's lightly toasted teacake", ms marina walker