can YOU spell alasdair ? me neither ... but his first thirty something pages have delighted this reader

luvverly boatin' wevver !

england expects ... sorry, i'm flag dyslexic

silly gate decorations at petworth house ... signifying what ?

petworth prohibits large vehicles ... but they ignore the signs & repeatedly damage this wall

there was nobody in the water at brighton this morning

chanctonbury ring hill above lower chancton farm near washington, sussex

denbies' vinyard at dorking

a lovely and often moving exhibition at tate britain ... apart from a few contemporary duds ... and no james ravilious

self portrait at the tate britain

sign on a saw blade at the fabulous second-hand tool shop in yapton, west sussex

dawn outside clapham junction station ... if only smoke were pink

the old tate gallery

welcome to pompey

out of the blue, all of a sudden, when you least expect it ...

rodin's burghers of calais have been cleaned up & are back on their pedestal outside parliament ... but we still have belmarsh

popped up to parliament square for a few minutes after work

commemorating the abolition of slavery here in 1834

a lot of crack and rumble above putney heath this afternoon ... puts you in mind of william shakespeare

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!

You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout

Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!

You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,

Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,

Singe my white head!

And thou, all-shaking thunder,

Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world!

Crack nature's moulds, an germens spill at once,

That make ingrateful man!
























I conjure you, by that which you profess,—

Howe’er you come to know it,—answer me:

Though you untie the winds and let them fight

Against the churches; though the yesty waves

Confound and swallow navigation up;

Though bladed corn be lodg’d and trees blown down;

Though castles topple on their warders’ heads;

Though palaces and pyramids do slope

Their heads to their foundations; though the treasure

Of Nature’s germens tumble all together,

Even till destruction sicken; answer me

To what I ask you.
























If by your art, my dearest father, you have

Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.

The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,

But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek,

Dashes the fire out.

O, I have suffered

With those that I saw suffer: a brave vessel,

Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her,

Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock

Against my very heart.

Poor souls, they perish'd.

Had I been any god of power, I would

Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere

It should the good ship so have swallow'd and

The fraughting souls within her.

sunshine