I am the grit in the gears, the missing bolt, I am the poker of sticks into spokes. I like to know how things work, but sometimes when I take them apart and rebuild them, I have a few pieces left over. I am a man, so I tend to leave reading the instructions until after it goes wrong. And like all men I have a comprehensive mental map of the world and never need to ask directions. I never get lost, only sometimes I'm late, or end up in the wrong place entirely. It's what we do.
Thursday, 19 January 2012
Monday, 16 January 2012
Another of e.e. cummings' pomes
mr youse needn't be so spry
concernin questions arty
each has his tastes but as for i
i likes a certain party
gimme the he-man's solid bliss
for youse ideas i'll match youse
a pretty girl who naked is
is worth a million statues
e.e.cummings, 1926
Sunday, 15 January 2012
Cheap Flights
If it sounds too good to be true, it always is. I was looking for cheaper methods of flying across the atlantic, when I stumbled upon this, at Expat Mum's blog.
Not what I was looking for, but it made me laugh.
here in Britain, we have a number of competing budget airlines who offer what look like unfeasibly cheap deals. There's usually a catch.... Like I can get to Barcelona for twenty pounds. But how much is the ticket back?
Saturday, 14 January 2012
The Corn-Exchange, Leeds
The Corn Exchange, Leeds, was designed by Cuthbert Broderick, and completed in 1863.
On our travels, RDG and I have generally shared photographic duties, and it's hard for either of us to be sure whose is which. As a system, it works well, because we notice different things, and she sees things that I'm too familiar with to notice.
On our travels, RDG and I have generally shared photographic duties, and it's hard for either of us to be sure whose is which. As a system, it works well, because we notice different things, and she sees things that I'm too familiar with to notice.
Finding You, for K.
Some years ago, I found this poem in a book in a library, I was not a member of that library, I could not borrow the book, but I wanted to share that poem, so I clicked a furtive photograph. Alas, I forgot to write the name of the poet...
I can't give credit for these words. I wish I could. In fact, until I found the original picture, I'd even forgotten that I found it in a library, I'd thought I'd found it framed on the wall in a hospital.
If anybody knows who the poet is, I'd be grateful to hear. Google doesn't have a clue.
14th/21st Sausage Delivery Corps, 1917
Back in the old days, before the miniaturisation of military ration sausages had been perfected, the Sausage Delivery Corps could be relied on to deliver sausages anywhere, no matter the terrain, no matter the battle raging. Here we see a medium pork with herbs being carried toward the front line. The Germans, known for their sausage technology, had nothing to match this mighty comestible.
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