Vanishing Act - Day 12

If you insist on looking like that sweetheart, I will be forced to kiss you.

Vanishing Act - Day 11

You can cut me in half, Bobby, just as long as you touch my hands.

Uke can do it!

I've always loved the ukulele. I grew up hearing George Formby playing and singing his cheerful songs. He was the hero of my hero, George Harrison. A while ago comedian Frank Skinner did a TV show about the instrument, and a ukulele convention featured, with young and old alike enjoying playing together. But much as I enjoyed it, none of this made me want to play. Let's face it, with carpal tunnel syndrome and fingers making a valiant effort to avoid developing osteo-arhtritis, I'd be stupid to try. But last night, on a programme called The Secret Millionaire (a rich dude going undercover to a deprived area to find causes to change his life outlook and milk him of some money) the man concerned took his ukulele with him, and as I heard him strum, I thought, "I want one of those!" They can be got surprisingly cheaply on Amazon, and I was tempted by the colourful array - oranges, reds, purples - but in the end I was swayed by a good report from someone about a normal-looking instrument:

Add in a Dummies book, a tuner and some plectra, and I'll be all set to start. I just want it to arrive!

Meanwhile, listen to and enjoy one of George Formby's greatest (and mildly rude) songs, When I'm Cleaning Windows:



By the way, in case you were wondering, the picture shows George playing a banjolele.

Turner Inspired by Claude

My favourite artist in the whole world ever is Turner. He was so far ahead of his time, even the Impressionists didn't match his powers of representation, in my opinion. But his first inspiration was the 17th century French artist Claude, to the extent that one of the conditions of his legacy (he left a vast collection of his works to the nation) was that four specified pictures - two of his and two of Claude's - be hung side by side in the then National Gallery. This is Claude's Enbarkation of the Queen of Sheba:

Here is Turner's Dido at Carthage:

It was from Claude's example that Turner learnt the effects of placing the sun in the centre of the picture, to increasingly stunning and abstract effect. This is the second exhibiton I've been to in recent years that compared and contrasted the works of Turner and those he inspired as well as those he was inspired by. His pictures are always head and shoulders above the others.

Vanishing Act - Day 10

Got to love that smile.

Mini Miniature

I imagine most people have seen pictures of very old wooden dolls. They tend to have hands and feet that are broken off or worn away, and rubbed or missing noses.

Well, today at the dolls' house fair I snagged a delightful Georgian-style doll - not a dolls' house doll, but a dolls' house doll's doll, less than two inches high, dressed beautifully in retrieved and recycled old fabric and lace.

The maker, unusually, is a man - and a black man at that, something rare in dolls' house circles. He takes immense pride in his teeny creations, which include teddies and other toys as small as pipe cleaners.

Here's my little treasure:

Vanishing Act - Day 9

Sleight of hand - though Bobby's not so slight!

Time and a Half

How did I ever manage to work full time? There's just so much to do, I wouldn't be able to fit it all in.

Last week seems relaxed by comparison to this. Even though I worked three days, I managed a zoo trip. I didn't manage to get any pictures of the tamarins in the rainforest exhibit invading the walkways and tempting the humans to touch them. No doubt, without the intervention of the volunteers,  a few bites and lost phones or cameras might have upset the enchanted visitors. Unfortunately I didn't have my camera out when they started to investigate my parrot-and-rainforest-pattern walking stick and contemplated climbing it.

But I did capture the clever idea someone had to both feed and entertain the meerkats. They'd dug up some old plants and their roots so the little mongooses could rummage for bugs and worms in the soil.





This weekend is promising to be more hectic than I could have imagined. Today there was an Art Deco fair at good old Eltham Palace, and I found a couple of jewellery goodies I couldn't resist: This necklace spoke to me right away, but I had to fight the urge to leave it behind (ie. more than I wanted to spend).



These three little duckies are a Lea Stein brooch. It's about an inch-and-a-half long:



After the fair I drove my friend to a nearby church hall where her opera group was giving an afternoon tea party concert (no, not Tea Party!) I helped to get the hall ready before and cleared up afterwards (actually, mostly I lounged on a table I could have been putting away and talked to my old PE teacher, whose husband sings with the group. She's 70 now, and has suffered from MS for decades. Though wheelchair-bound for many years, she is still going strong.) Tomorrow my friend and I are off to a dolls house fair.

On Monday I will need a rest! Thank goodness for Alex's cruise.

Vanishing Act - Day 8

This moronic woman is with Bobby and she apparently is still crazy about dork boy.

Vanishing Act - Day 7

Silly man, do you really think Bobby believes your lies?

The People Are Revolting

My student Alex is off on a cruise, so today I got together with his other tutor to produce a presentation about our work with him. As I left, I was puzzled by the huge traffic jams in all directions. Overhead there were two police helicopters - I've never seen more than one at a time before. Not until I got to Trafalgar Square and lots of activity going on there did it occur to me that public sector workers were striking and demonstrating today. Not that the structures I saw being erected had anything to do with that. Apparently on Saturday the London Symphony Orhestra is giving a free concert there. Luckily it is supposed to be fine and dry for once. The public sector workers are mainly striking over changes in their pensions. Those on strike today, and teachers, who struck earlier, have to pay more for our pensions, get them mch later, and get less, while having our pay frozen for years on end. The police were strongly in evidence, though they are not very happy either. There are cuts in their numbers, longer working lives, and deterioration of their conditions. Off-duty officers attended, but the police are not allowed to strike.

I'm hoping they will start refusing to treat other workers with their usual contempt and turn a blind eye to demonstrations that are as much to help them as the people to whom they apply their kettling* techniques. They have to learn that they are on the wrong side.

*Kettling - containment or corralling of crowds into small spaces using police cordons.

Vanishing Act - Day 6

Who is this handsome man? How did he get so gorgeous?

Vanishing Act - Day 5

The magic just continues.

Ancient History

Eight years ago last month, I had my right hip replaced at the very young age of 51. As I was sitting around recuperating, I passed the time watching Series 1 of LOCI over and over, taking notes about the doink doink days and dates and the outfits Goren and Eames were wearing, trying to see if dates overlapped from episode to episode and whether the outfits matched up. (The answer is yes, no and maybe - making the dates with their stated days correspond to a particular year was impossible, as they were fake.)

That June, still walking with crutches, I went on a day-trip to Salisbury, Old Sarum and Stonehenge. For those who don't know the story, Old Sarum was a medieval town that was moved to a more favourable situation, and rebuilt on a grid plan - a very early example of town planning. The base ruins of some buildings, including the original cathedral, are still visible.

Old Sarum on its bleak hilltop

The foundations of the old cathedral.

The cathedral in the new town of Salisbury is the pinnacle of gothic cathedral-building, completed (apart from the spire) in less than 40 years in the 13th century.

My own pictures of these places are not on my computer, and in any case they couldn't do the justice to these places that these online pictures do. However, when we went to 5,000-year-old Stonehenge, it proved impossible to take a bad or inadequate picture. Access to the stones is only allowed on a very few occasions each year, and is carefully controlled by English Heritage. As soon as the ordinary visitors left, the site reopened to us. For the first time that day, the rain stopped and the skies cleared. As if by magic, the lengthening shadows of the sinking sun transformed the site into a place of breathtaking beauty.

Vanishing Act - Day 4

So much Bobby, so much magic.

BBCCC

What? you wonder. All will become clear. Or not. 'Cos it's insane.

London just re-elected the ridiculous Boris Johnson, he of the uncontollable hair, as its mayor. During his first 4-year term of office he put forward the idea of a cable car across the Thames, to ease people's travel between Olympic venues. It was to be done by the sponsorship of business alone.

Then it seemed to be forgotten. I certainly hadn't heard anything more about its progress. Now I've found a map of the proposed route :

I was only looking for this because today, for the first time in many weeks, I travelled to the Greenwich Peninsula, and was astonished to see a sight rather like this:

The little dots are cable cars. The pylons are cable car towers. Here's a closer view of the system:

So it's happened. Apparently the first car crossed last Wednesday. Obviously it wasn't much in the news (maybe because it might influence the elections that took place on Thursday) because I read two newspapers a day, watch the local and national TV news, and listen to the news on the radio. But there it is for all to see, with a parade of cars going in each direction. BBCCC. Bonkers Boris's Crazy Cable Car.

Will I be going on it any time soon?

Will I fuck.

Vanishing Act - Day 3

This picture works on so many levels. Pick your own...

My Old China

I have some rather attractive china cat sculptures that I bought for myself, but a few years ago a co-worker bought me this for my birthday:

I found it charming, but didn't think it was anything in particular. Some time later, I saw an article in Your Cat magazine about Winstanley cats, and they looked bit like my little fellah. Then I forgot all about it till recently they ran another article. I decided to photograph my kittie and send the pictures to the Winstanley cat makers, including this one of his base:

And lo! he is a Winstanley cat! They don't sell for huge sums of money, but enough for me to realise that my co-worker must have thought fondly of me.

For anyone interested in having a look at their products, here's the web address: http://www.winstanleycats.uk.com/

Vanishing Act - Day 2

Is Bobby taken in by the old has-been?

Vanishing Act - Day 1

Boo!

You can surprise me any time, Bobby.

Saving London 2012 from air attack

If terrorists are planning to attack the London Olympics, then the joke is on us, because the remedy will probably be worse than the "cure". The idea is that, in the event on a possible air attack, ground-to-air missiles will be launched from strategic points around the capital. Including from the tops of residential tower blocks in London's east end - the part of the capital where the Games are to be held. Remember the London Marathon the other week, which begins near me on Blackheath? This is the heath looking roughly north-north-east:

This is the same view with missile launcher, taken on Wednesday or Thursday.

Missiles primed and ready to go?

And if they shoot down something that might have been threatening the Games? Where will the pieces fall, exactly?

Well, presumably somewhere else in the capital.

Just as long as it isn't the Games...

Please Note - Day 10

Bonus Picture - Bobby's tie points the way!

Deprived

JJ, the dog whose family I work with, is very hard-done-by. He doesn't even have his own bed!

See what he's reduced to? Sleeping on the sofa (or sometimes his "mum's" bed). Poor baby.

Please Note - Day 9

Hands up all those who'd like to volunteer for this scene.

Please Note - Day 8

Worried, alarmed, but still working out how to...work things out.

Flying Without Wings

Yesterday the nurse and I took our charge to Greenwich Park to enjoy the respite from the record rainfall that has plagued the country for the month of April. We also wanted to check on the vandalism being perpetrated on this World Heritage Site by the construction of a venue for Olympic equestrian events. What we found, on what was publicly-accessible grass in front of the National Maritime Museum and the Queen's House, was this array of temporary seating and acres of plastic sheeting. There was no peace, only construction noise. Shameful.

We took the dog with us, and when we had lunch in the tea-room gardens, I kept him on his lead. He's a great scrounger, and would have gone home several pounds heavier if he'd been allowed to visit the other patrons.

If there's one creature outdoor eateries attract, it's pigeons, and if there's one thing the dog can't resist (apart from cats), it's chasing pigeons. So there I was, staring into space, then there I was, sprawled on the ground, as the dog noticed a pigeon and launched himself towards it. I can only assume my bum slid right off the slippery seat in a split second, because I wasn't conscious of travelling through the air and landing flat out, arm extended and, fortunately, still holding on to the lead.

There was immediate silence in the garden as people tried to work out how to react. I must admit to aching a bit and there is a bruise on one knee, but all I can think, between giggles, is that I flew without wings or a plane, and I wasn't even aware of it at the time.

Why can't we relive some moments of our lives in slow motion, like they do in the action replays?

Please Note - Day 7

Can I smooth out that frowning brow, darling?

Please Note - Day 6

Not sure what that bemused expression means, but I love it.

Please Note - Day 5

Don't chew your lip, sweetheart, you'll make it too sore for our snog.

The Essex Horde

A week or so ago I mentioned my trip to a craft village in Essex to get the inscription on my memorial ring to my darling Shelley redone, as they'd spelt his name wrong. JoJo espressed an interest in seeing the ring, and the earrings I bought. I finally got round to photographing them today.

These earrings are of glass made by the jeweller herself. Are they orange? purple? gold? pink? They go with almost everything I own!


The ring contains some of Sweet Shelley's ashes.


This is the clock I bought at the craft village. The maker bought the skeleton movement and then turned this case for it from English oak. It was love at first sight.

Please Note - Day 4

You don't need a scarf to keep you warm, Bobby - I'll do it for you.

Please Note - Day 3

Bobby as Bigfoot.

Otter folly

I have often shown, I think, that I am a great fan of otters. These iconic creatures more or less disappeared completely from our waterways because of pollution and persecution, and it has only been since we cleaned our rivers up that they have spread back across the country. So I was bemused by a small news item in yesterday's i newspaper that a man contacted police after several koi carp valued at thousands of pounds had disappeared from his garden pond.

Police ascertained that it was not a human that had stolen them, but an animal, most likely an otter. That'll teach him not to secure his pond properly.

However, another person put his oar in, and though he was named, his role or position vis-a-vis the matter was not elaborated on. But his ridiculous words inspired me to write to the paper, and I was fortunate enough to get my letter published today:

I was horrified to read that some poor person's valuable koi carp had been taken from his unprotected pond, not by a human thief for profit, but by an otter. Someone called Hugh Miles was quoted as saying, "Some conservationists think they are cuddly, playful creatures, but they are killers". Unlike humans, apparently, who wait for animals to drop dead naturally before eating them. Clearly taking carp for profit is better than killing them for food. Isn't this the kind of thinking that helped exterminate otters from our polluted rivers and trout streams in the past?

I'm proud!

Please Note - Day 2

Breakfast with Bobby - another dream come true.

Please Note - Day 1

In the dark with the beautiful Bobby - every woman's dream.

Er....

Clipping from Saturday's "i" newspaper:
   
    Lack of cleaning endangers health
    People are putting their health at risk by not cleaning kitchen cupboards out properly,
      an Asda survey has suggested.  The report claims that the insides of the oven and the
      fridge are also likely to go unscrubbed. It's also been claimed that 600,000 homes are
      cleaned only at Christmas.

Oh dear. As often as that?

I will clean my kitchen cupboards out one day. It was only replaced 12 years ago. The oven is hardly ever used, and the fridge is just two years old.

Cut us some slack, Asda. You know you're just trying to get us to buy more cleaning products. Mine last for ages. Some even came from Safeway.

How many years ago did that shut down?

And for those of you who think I'm kidding...sorry :-(

Cats Conversing

JoJo's inspired me again! Most of you have probably seen the talking cats before. The original is getting quite hard to find, but here it is:

And here's the first ever translation. There are lots more now from people who had nothing better to do with their time (no I didn't do one, I don't have the technical expertise, er sorry, time).

Purgatory - Day 16

Joy short-lived.