Life Observed

I am told that people divide into Planters and Pruners. I wonder which sort you are? Me, I'm definitely a pruner. Give me a pair of secateurs, a hoe and a Garden Claw and there's nothing out the back that would survive. Less is more.

They say they were the good old days. They say times were simpler then. Don't let them fool you. Look at the evidence. The world was a kind of sepia colour in those days, and also slightly fuzzy. Apparently everyone had to wear a flat cap or smoke a pipe.  We wouldn't want to go back to that, would we?

We have a shop in town here that has a Haberdashery section. What a wonderful word, Haberdashery. A colourful term for a colourful idea. Wander in, look around, take in the sights and smells. No strings attached.

How times have changed. I grew up with a problem.  How would I explain, when the time came, that I didn't want to start smoking? Most of the grown ups smoked. Everyone on TV and in films smoked. It must be something that you have to do, and I don't want to do it...

A wet Bank Holiday. One feels we will stay indoors and play cards while the rain patters down around us. Let's leave the Wolseley in the garage and ring for tea in the conservatory. Switch on the wireless.  Maybe there's a play on the Home Service this afternoon.

We saw two male voice choirs in Salisbury Cathedral cloisters at dusk. They were singing the trench calls and taunts from the Great War across the green to each other. Some of the songs have a bitter irony to them: Not long to go dear. Captain says it's true dear, So keep the kettle on the fire, The King himself can't be a liar...

Salisbury revisited: At 404 feet, the spire is the tallest in England and it towers over the city like a great stone finger. We spent the evening in the cloisters there for an arts event (like you do...) Moron this tomorrow. For the moment I leave you with the remarkable stone edifice.

It's voting time.  We went and exercised our democratic right, empowering someone I have never met to represent me in all things political.  In this case the winning candidate will be wasting my money in Strasbourg rather than in Westminster, but as long as the money is wasted, then that is what's important. In the long voting form, amid all the usual main players, and mixed in with the minor and weird parties I spotted a logo like a Centurion. This is the "Roman Party". No further information. I am intrigued. The Roman Party? Are the Romans really coming back?  Maybe that wouldn't be such a  bad idea. We would be part of a large, expanding and influential empire, with good communications, excellent wine and unusual entertainment events. Oh, and of course there are those famously straight straight Roman roads... I bet their roads weren't full of potholes.

Pull up a seat.  Sit down, make yourself comfortable. Oh, not that seat though. It needs a coat of paint really....

This three picture panorama (click on it for the larger version) is an example of why I like dusk so much. There is something magical about the contrast of the warm artificial colours, the street light and hotel sign, and the beguiling blue of the sky. There is a moment when the fading dusk will balance the other elements in the image.  Chose your moment!  Carpe Canem!

Isn't it great - all this history we have at our fingertips in poor old battered Britain. Here we have the doorway to the Radnorshire Arms in Presteigne with it's seventeenth century electric light, Victorian carpark and Tudor satellite dish. 1616... Just think how much of mankind's foolishness this building has seen

Well, here's a door and a half. I sincerely hope the angel carved at the top offers some protection from the assortment of disturbing items carved around the edges. You don't get craftmanship like this these days. Well, not in Homebase.

Basil was the Marjoram of Jaipur. With his Mace in hand he was Sage and an Elder. He always had had Thyme for Rosemary, his neighbour.

Here is something colorful to savor that I saw last nite at the garden center. Under the Aluminum gazebo I found these next to the erbs.

Imagine you were a carpenter, looking for employment. You get a job in France. How are you going to get there? Would you take the plane?

What is the purpose of sewing sequins on a pillow? You can't sit on it.  You certainly can't sleep on it. Please stop doing this. It disturbs me...

It is that time of year when the Rotary Club organises a race along the Kennet and Avon canal that finishes in Newbury. This is done for charity and is a fine thing.  Attached to this, there is a May Day event.  Here you will find all manner of diversions and activities. A small village of tents and stalls spring up like mushrooms overnight selling dubious goods to gullible punters and their children. This is the stuff of your average Fun Fair, and we expect it: We are offered cheap tat, scary rides and suspect food spiced with the possibility of being short changed by a quick witted stallholder. Was it ever thus? Yes, I suspect cider befuddled locals have been swindled at the village fair for generations, and that is just as it should be..  As you cans see, it was a vibrant and colourful affair.

The previous three batsmen put on a total of five runs. You're the last man in, and it all rests on you. Is this a good time to smile at the captain and tell him to cheer up, it's only a game...?

So. Is it Random? Is it Regular? Is there order or chaos? I think it needs a whole new word:  Randular.....