so i got out of the cab and muddied my boots ...

 

... in a foggy field

 

catkins

 

room-inating

 

mum ? is there really such a thing as a lazy, feckless, good-for-nothing photographer ?

 

celebrating the remorseless advance of science technology ... i was just thinking about the agony of shaving forty years ago ...how much easier now !

we're allergic to real cats ... but i photographed our toy ones by the kitchen lights ...

 

... and then by the light of a hand-held candle

 

mad jack fuller's pyramid ...

brightling church is well worth a visit, but it was freezing cold this morning

i'll be going back soon to do it justice, when the weather is better

jack fuller was not at all mad but splendidly, generously, and heroically disinhibited

... on a freezing foggy morning at brightling

 

some very pretty numerals above the porch at brightling church

 

memorial to jack fuller in brightling church

click on the picture once, and then a second time when the enlarging icon eventually appears in the bottom right corner, and you'll be able to read the text

castings in the porch at brightling church

 

brightling village post office ... once upon a time

i love the cuttters' marks on the masonry


 

pussy cat, pussy cat, where have you been ?

years of searching for driftwood and oddities amongst the pebbles on brighton beach have sharpened my eyes and so i nearly fell off my bike to avoid running over this little pussy cat ... she's about 35mm x 25mm ... she's lost a couple of stones but how she escaped being crushed on one of london's busy arterial roads is a mystery

 

my client will plead temporary insanity, m'lud

in the first hour of daylight, when the conscience and all aesthetic sensibilities are weakest, i murmured to the loved one, semi-dormant upon the adjacent pillow,

"if i bought you a carrier bag or two of new plasticene, you could make a life sized bust of me, brightly coloured !"

adding after insufficient consideration,

"... or marzipan !"

after a significant silence, somehow the conversation cum monologue turned to the absence of a chamberpot in our tiny residence, and whether we might have,

"wedgewood, or waterford crystal ?"

now i have two headaches

 

mud, glorious mud !

 

cognitive dissonance and incipient aphasia ?

I had a little trouble with the quick crossword in the Guardian this morning.

The clue was "Landlocked anchorage in the Orkney Islands (5,4)".

The words that stuck in my head for two whole minutes were Sullom Voe.

The correct answer was, lurking behind the wrong one, and on the wrong island, Scapa Flow.

Then, on my way home along the river bank, I stopped to admire some Thames mud and only half-remembered Flanders & Swann's song, "Mud, Glorious Mud!", unable to complete the tune in my head because it had temporarily fused itself together with the tune and words of "Food, Glorious Food!" by Lionel Bart.

As the old used to tell me in Wiltshire when I was a boy, "Old age doesn't come alone."

salvaging a sunken boat on the thames at putney