Monday, December 10, 2007

baby pwincess



winter again

DECEMBER STILLNESS


























December stillness, teach me through your trees
That loom along the west, one with the land,
The veiled evangel of your mysteries.
While nightfall, sad and spacious, on the down
Deepens, and dusk imbues me where I stand,
With grave diminishings of green and brown,
Speak roofless Nature, your instinctive words;
And let me learn your secret from the sky,
Following a flock of steadfast journeying birds
In lone remote migration beating by.
December stillness, crossed by twilight roads,
Teach me to travel far and bear my loads.

Siegfried Sassoon

Sunday, December 02, 2007

Saturday, December 01, 2007

kirtling street, nine elms

















the perimeter wall of the power station has a crack which is moving, so a surveyor has left this interesting guage

















this building appears to be unused now, except by these sleeping beauties

















a phenomenal amount of crushed stone, gravel and concrete is processed beside the river at nine elms for distribution across the city

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

no one is above the law in modern china





You couldn’t make it up … I just got in late from work and heard the end of the six o clock news on BBC radio 4 … their reporter said the Chinese government have angrily denounced the Dalai Lama’s proposals for finding his successor, … pointing out that “any re-incarnations without government consent were illegal” ...

Thursday, November 22, 2007

a church at godstone


stuff

In Tenebris by Thomas Hardy





Wintertime nighs;
But my bereavement-pain
It cannot bring again:
Twice no one dies.
Flower-petals flee;
But since it once hath been,
No more that severing scene
Can harrow me.
Birds faint in dread:
I shall not lose old strength
In the lone frost's black length:
Strength long since fled!
Leaves freeze to dun;
But friends cannot turn cold
This season as of old
For him with none.
Tempests may scath;
But love cannot make smart
Again this year his heart
Who no heart hath.
Black is night's cope;
But death will not appal
One, who past doubtings all,
Waits in unhope.

an illustration from a favourite author, her birth certificate, & herself with relatives