I dread being in large groups of people – nor do I like shouting slogans – but Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s ‘Fish Fight’ had me putting a poster in our car. I support 100% what he’s trying to do, both with ‘discards’ and now with trying to persuade the government to create many more marine conservation areas around the coast of Britain. It’s an uphill task that he has taken on and he deserves all the help he can get from the British public. We will all benefit.

Arriving outside Houses of Parliament – an important message

And that’s why I made myself join his demonstration outside the Houses of Parliament on 25th February. A raw grey morning we had of it but it was cheering to see so many people determined to get their message across. If we don’t look after our coastal waters and encourage other countries to do the same, we will soon have to bear the consequences of destroying the environment upon which we depend. Give and take has to make a healthy balance for survival. Both fishing for food and the diversity of the seas and sealife must be preserved across the planet. We must send out that message loud and clear. It’s that ‘rights and responsibilities’ issue. We can’t have one without the other.

Hugh and company – making a difference …

Fishfight – we need your support!

Hugh’s fishfight – keep tweeting …

I remember as a child, sitting on the sea wall in Largo (Fife), dangling my legs and eating delicious fish and chips out of a newspaper with a bottle of Irn-Bru. At Pittenweem, a village nearby, the fishing boats would come in with their trawl and boxes of fish would be slung out and auctioned off on the pier. My maiden aunts would return triumphantly with a box of plaice or haddock, which they would grill and serve for supper with fresh lemons and boiled potatoes, cut into slices and fried. And for pudding, it would be the raspberries we had collected in the hedgerows with a dollop of Forte’s vanilla ice cream, collected by me from the local shop in Granny’s large blue and white jug. I just sped along the pavement with it, to get home before it melted! That supper was my favourite.

And so was paddling among the rockpools at Anstruther and Elie, finding limpets, red sea anemones, shrimps, whelks, tiny scuttling crabs and shy, almost transparent blennies, starfish and shells of all kinds. I especially loved cowrie shells, which we hunted for along the beach at low tide, along with bladderwrack seaweed, which made a satisfying ‘pop’ and dogfish egg cases, which were both mysterious and elegant in black – with twirly tendrils.

A sustainable seaworld – don’t lose us!

Fishfight – it’s a long haul but worth it for us all …

Seeing Hugh’s film about dredging for scallops along the sea bed and destroying the whole marine environment at the same time made me both incensed and miserably depressed. I could not stand by and just let it happen and it was heartening to see such a big turn out at the Houses of Parliament. And a big mix of young and old.

Fishfight – a great turn out …

Fishfight – well done, Hugh!

And at the end of the day a lone wolf lends her support …

We have to make this happen – keep up the support! And well done, Hugh! For marine conservation text ‘protect’ to 84424. I felt so cheered to have actively joined in here on 25th February.

Snow had been forecast but I didn’t believe it until I drew the curtains back on a white world. But good – no need to drive anywhere this weekend. John would continue writing his book and I would only venture a paw or two outside. It was cold enough to keep the heating on. All the same, it was as if the snow was in my head too, numbing my brain.

On Sunday I decided to venture out further around the neighbourhood, still transformed into a white and muffled landscape. There was an eerie silence everywhere – as if I was wearing ear plugs as I tramped and crunched along the pavement. I see the joy of watching a snowy landscape from inside – even walking in snow – but the latter has to be somewhere up in the mountains like Switzerland!

Ice patterns on Barnes Pond 20/01/13

Biking in snow – Barnes 2013

Snow covered sunshades – Sun Inn – Barnes

Sun Inn and pond, Barnes

Dogs love the snow – they were happy chasing and rootling around with one another while children rolled along huge snowballs. Meanwhile, I tramped on with a red nose, wondering if all this exercise was doing me good! I learned recently that the more walking about you do in the day, the better – you don’t have to go to the gym or buy lots of equipment to go running, cycling or whatever. If you do cycle at top speed (you can use an exercise bike) for three minutes a week in 20 second bursts – that will do. Or was it even just three bursts of twenty seconds? This is favourite music to my ears if it works! And I do lots of walking too – not just for the sake of it – but to get places. And I’m happy also walking in all weathers, except for humid heat – when I quickly expire. Exercise for exercise’s sake I find extremely tedious. Walking in the rain makes me sing. Running for the bus and managing to catch it is a ‘double whammy’. This is helped by the Barnes bus drivers, who often kindly wait as they see you puffing along, out of breath – yet nearly there! That’s my ‘Shanks Pony’ top gear cycling burst taken care of three times a week – I like to think!

The scientists interviewed seemed very well informed re lots of experiments and surveys on all of this! Keeping moving during the day – it’s apparently sitting too long without moving that does the damage! Great programme about all this on BBC2 Horizon with Michael Mosley. What was most interesting was that your individual metabolism needs an individual exercise programme. For instance, aerobics does wonders healthwise for some and nothing for others. I always knew deep down that I was in the latter category. But I’d love to live near hot thermal waters bubbling out of the ground … and swim in them regularly. Because I love it – and not only because it’s good for me.

Dogger and snowball …

Apple tree snow

Tiny Tim …

Did I end up on the wrong film set?!

Blow, blow, thou Winter wind! Thou art not so unkind As man’s ingratitude. Shakespeare – ‘As You Like It’

Homeward bound …

‘It’s an ill wind that blows nobody good’ and that wind was just waiting to upstage the snow some days later, when even dustbins were blown along the street in the middle of the night! And the wind brought the rain and vice versa until ‘bad hair’ days were the norm. Hats became orphans and many umbrellas lost their lives.

I recommend Lyall Watson’s ‘Heaven’s Breath’ (A Natural History of the Wind). He is one of my favourite non fiction authors. This book is out of print but available via Amazon.

‘A fine wind is blowing the new direction of Time’ (D.H. Lawrence).

Jack Frost snowflakes 1

Jack Frost snowflakes 2

January has been a cold, grim, sometimes freezing, wet and windy month – reflecting the economy. I don’t hold out much for the better in February, so I’m ending this entry with a picture of mimosa – known for its early appearance in February with a beautiful colour and habit and a fragrance which brings some hope of Spring and a better world ahead.

Bring me sunshine …

When a friend rang suggesting a walk together, I thought of the somewhat ‘rural’ towpath leading from Barnes to Hammersmith. But then I remembered the day before… as I crossed the bridge into Barnes by bus, I noticed that high tide was way up over the path. The thought of deep mud put me off that idea – and yet a river walk still appealed. We ended up meeting at Hungerford Bridge. But a bit more history unfolded before we began our walk.

I have a book called ‘Secret London’ – ‘An Unusual Guide’ by Rachel Howard and Bill Nash. On my way to the Cartier-Bresson photo exhibition at Somerset House the day before in the pouring rain, I had come out of the underground at Embankment. There’s an old fashioned, baroque carved stone archway with iron gates just inside Embankment Gardens. It didn’t seem to have any connection with the buildings around it and the book told me why.

The Thames used to be much wider and shallower. The water used to come up to this arch, which was the river entrance to an impressive building on the bank called York House, then belonging to the Duke of Buckingham. This is all that remains. Most of the grand villas that were built along the former bank of the Thames are gone. At the back of Somerset House, what was once the entrance to the river is now prosaically separated from it by the busy road.

Underneath Embankment Gardens runs the large sewer designed by Bazalgette – along with the more recent District Line. Joseph William Bazalgette (1819 – 1891), was the grandson of Jean Louis Bazalgette, a Protestant from Ispagnac, Gorge du Tarn, where his family had been based for a thousand years. He emigrated from France to England in the eighteenth century. His grandson became famous for building the sewerage system for the whole of London, most of which is still in use today.

It was a grand project, together with the pumping station at Cross Ness, also planned and built between 1855 – 1865 by Bazalgette and another civil engineer, Charles Henry Driver. This has recently been renovated in all its Victorian glory of intricate design and bold colours. I see it as a monument to the joy of a sewerage system – Bazalgette is a great hero of mine along with Michael Faraday (1791 – 1867). There’s a statue of Faraday at the far end of Embankment Gardens. And there is a monument which commemorates Bazalgette’s genius on Victoria Embankment. He not only built the sewer system but had the foresight to double the diameter of the pipes needed, thinking ahead of the expanding population of London. At the time he said he was aware that this was a one off project. If he hadn’t done this the sewer system would have overflowed in the 1960s. All our lives have changed enormously for the better because of the inventions of these two men and their colleagues.

Alongside the pumping station, is an area called Erith Marshes, now a nature reserve, where water voles, small amphibians and various moths flourish. I mention this because the health of frogs is a strong pointer to a healthy environment for all biological life – including us. Sickly frogs = the beginning of the end.

I digress from our walk ahead but as I was reading about ‘York House Watergate’ I had a phone call to say my companion had been held up and would be twenty minutes late. This gave me time to think more about Bazalgette and his solution to ‘The Great Stink’ (1858), when the river overflowed with sewage to the detriment of all. I pursued this when I got home and this is why I came to find out about a man called John Martin (1789 – 1854).

He was so interesting – I had never heard of him before but I fell completely under his spell – so I wanted to include something about his life here. He actually deserves a whole book. There are two in print as far as I can see. One by Christopher Johnstone written in 1974 called ‘John Martin’ and a more recent one by Barbara Morden called ‘Apocalypse Now’ and written in 2010.

John Martin could be best described as a Renaissance Humanist. He was interested in so many different subjects and made practical contributions to many of them. He was very well known as an artist – look up ‘The Great Day of His Wrath’, ‘Belshazzar’s Feast’, The Fall of Nineveh’ – big epic paintings ahead of epic disaster Hollywood films. There was an exhibition of his work at Tate Britain in 2011 and Laura Cumming of ‘The Observer’ wrote an excellent review of it. At the time he was appreciated much more by continental Europe than the Art Establishment in England.

But besides art, he was interested in engineering – his brother was an inventor – and John anticipated the theory of Bazalgette’s new sewage plan twenty five years beforehand. It was difficult even for Bazalgette to get backing for it – only ‘The Great Stink’, when MPs could stand the smell no longer of sewage in the Thames, turned the tables in Bazalgette’s favour. Another idea of Martin’s which he was unable to fulfil at the time was of a circular railway around London. He once said to his son, Leopold, that he would really have preferred to be an engineer rather than a painter. He rose from humble origins, the sale of his paintings helping him to achieve the means to follow his other interests.

At one point he gave up painting altogether to work on health and safety on sea and inland waterways and in mines. In a way he was one of the first environmentalists, being interested in clean air and sewage systems. And town planning in general. He wanted to find ways of making safe fertiliser for farmers by treatment of sewage, so recycling came into that. He was also thinking along the lines of Darwinism.

One of the things he loved doing was hosting parties at his home in Marylebone, so that artists and writers could meet up with well known scientists, thinkers and entrepreneurs. I wish I could have been there – probably just handing out wine and sweetmeats – but having the chance as I did so to eavesdrop on fascinating conversations. John Martin’s life is well worth exploring. For me, it was a door I opened almost by mistake and it took me into a whole new universe.

David had suggested that we make our rendezvous on Hungerford Bridge – west side. This took me under the arches and past a marine sports shop. Oh dear! A lady selling small antiques rents one of their windows and I couldn’t help buying a small Edwardian silver brooch – at a fair price it must be said! David was waiting to show me the glorious view over the river.

And then we walked over Hungerford Bridge, sharing the space between east and west with the familiar, clanking noises of the trains snorting inbetween the walkways. The sun was out, the sky was crisply blue and I was ready and curious to see what lay ahead.

Under the arches – Embankment

Fairy castle – Embankment

View of Thames from Hungerford bridge

I don’t remember seeing sand by the Thames before but sculptures were being made of it here at Gabriel’s Wharf. There were also a couple of ‘mudlarks’ searching for ‘treasure’ along the shore line.

Gabriel’s Wharf

The old and the new …

The Golden Hind and two smart bicycles …

I’ve walked along the Thames from Waterloo to the Tate Modern many times and once or twice onwards to The Shakespeare Globe Theatre but now my knowledge was getting slimmer and it was such a surprise to come upon ‘The Golden Hind’. This was also the first time I’d visited Borough Market. In the week it’s not as busy as Saturdays but it was still an inspiration. A wonderful array of onions and funghi, cheeses and meaty treats. I ended up buying some crispy, custard filled ‘natas’ from a dark eyed, handsome French boy.

Green pillars upholding Borough Market …

‘Do you want to see inside Southwark cathedral’? said David. I’m not an avid church visitor but a Canadian friend had told me about a sculpture she loved there. I couldn’t remember what it was but a lady guardian of the church gamely joined in the search and I think this must be it. A modern sculpture of a Virgin and Child in wood and slightly ‘gilded’ by Peter Eugene Ball. The extraordinary thing is that it is carved out of a railway sleeper. it must have been surprised at its novel yet tranquil surroundings after years of being pounded by trains… it’s sort of like having two lives in one in a way … not many of us are that lucky! On second thoughts, being run over by umpteen trains every day isn’t much of a life.

Railway sleeper sculpture – Southwark cathedral…

The Shard, Southwark Cathedral and a Christmas tree …

Looking at it from the opposite end of the spectrum … it’s now possible to take a trip to the top of The Shard – at a price. The view must be spectacular if you manage to choose a clear day.

The Shard and company …

The late afternoon sun begins to set on Raleigh’s words …

We arrived at the HMS Belfast, at rest like a huge camouflaged sea creature supine in the middle of the river, opposite City Hall and with a view onwards towards Tower Bridge.

HMS Belfast with Tower Bridge and Canary Wharf in the far distance …

‘Well’, said David – ‘we can either walk to Tower Bridge and get a bus, or walk on further along the river’ … but I wanted to get back before the golden rays of the sun were extinguished and so we decided to retrace our steps a little and then cross the Thames at the Millennium Bridge.

A golden sunset coming up …

Does the clarity and serenity of Vermeer come to mind looking at this view?

Would Monet like to have painted this?

We parted ways at the bottom of Ludgate Hill. He was going to Farringdon and I was making my way back via Fleet Street as twilight overtook us. People were hurrying homewards. I was about to cross the road when I noticed a bunch of withered yellow roses tied to a post. It was from somebody called Julian. The accident happened ten years ago, said the note but he would always remember her with love. I waited soberly for the green light.

Fleet Street is one of those places where the atmosphere of historical London lingers as strong as garlic on your fingers.

The Old Bell pub frontage, Fleet Street

St. Brides Church with crescent moon – just off Fleet Street

Twilight – looking back down Fleet Street towards St. Paul’s …

The chill of evening drawing in encouraged me to hop on a bus to the Strand. Unfortunately I hadn’t noticed that it would be going over the bridge to Waterloo and my heart sank as it swung blindly round the corner after Somerset House. There’s a stop near the Waterloo end of the bridge and I jumped off – to be rewarded by some magnificent river views. I stopped to try out some photos in the dark, despite the cold draught coming up from the water.

Night claims the Thames with lone silhouette on river path …

RNLI lifeboats on the Thames – ready and waiting …

Then it was down a few alley ways, slipping through John Adam Street, the home of The Royal Society of Arts and ending up on Villiers Street with Embankment station beckoning me at the bottom. I saw a sign on the left – appropriately telling me to ‘Wrap It Up’. And so I did, happily finding a seat on the District Line back to south west London.

Back to Embankment Underground and time to ‘wrap it up’!

PS I put on the television when I got home to find Michael Portillo sailing down the Thames, following the selfsame route as us. An aeriel view was a satisfying pointer along the riverbank we had so recently followed. I saw we really hadn’t walked very far in the larger scheme of things. MP carried on further than us (by boat) and got a chance to be shown round the sewage treatment pumping station at Cross Ness, continuing on to the Thames Barrier, which has been used recently to keep London from flooding.

That morning before leaving I had read an article by John Kay in the Financial Times entitled ‘The lesson of Victorian London’s rise from sewer to spectacle’. Were these coincidences all an example of ‘synchronicity’ ? And what, if anything, was I meant to be doing about it? It would be a great honour if I could sit down and listen to Bazalgette, Martin, Faraday et al right now because I’m sure they would have some fascinating ideas and inventions wherewith to solve some of today’s problems. It would be wonderful to see them enjoying the advantages of finding information at speed on the Internet. Ah well …. that isn’t likely but we owe it to them to get results like they did, which massively benefited future generations … we have to succeed in spite of adversity, just like them! Sweet dreams …

END

After the waterworld of Christmas, New Year’s Day was inspiring with blue skies and brilliant sunshine, which we toasted with a walk across Barnes Bridge followed by a sparkling glass of champagne.

Boats out on the river and everybody and his dog tramping along the muddy banks of the Thames with smiles on their faces. A promising start to 2013 …

New Year’s Day – the Thames from Barnes Bridge …

New Year’s Day – view of Barnes from Barnes Bridge …

Enjoying a dip in the Thames on New Year’s Day 2013 …

Messing about in boats – down by the river looking at Barnes on New Year’s Day … with an ecstatic dog … !

Taken from Barnes railway bridge on New Year’s Day 2013 …

And then we went home and toasted the New Year in with our best bottle of champagne.

END

Not much seems to have improved on the economic front this year but the Christmas lights in central London, though still not quite as elegant as the Champs-Elysées, do have their own special aura. Whoever decides on what lights to choose has themselves been well chosen. I shudder at remembrance of times past and much appreciate the present offerings!

Crowns, choristers and reindeers – Regent Street

Gold and silver stars, Bond Street W1

Christmas at Seven Dials … not to be missed …

John and I did a whistlestop tour of central London to buy a few gifts before heading off for the Cotswolds. We both mourn the demise of Tower Records at Piccadilly but the helpful and cheerful assistants at the beleaguered HMV still make a journey there worthwhile. I am still not an Amazon fan but no doubt that internet tsunami will swallow us all in time. And cheerful, helpful and well informed assistants will be replaced by robots. On the other hand I love finding things out and the Internet is amazing on that front. But continuing human contact is essential for a life worth living and for the world as a whole.

Next stop, Marylebone, where I have a print waiting to be picked up at Railings Gallery. It’s of a dog (by Helen Fay), which I bought at the RA Summer Exhibition. The frame cost as much as the print but it looks fabulous. Railings are excellent, quality framers. I keep thinking about having a dog but this one will keep me satisfied for the moment. He is called Louis and has lovely lines. And I don’t need to feed him or wipe his muddy paws. But I’d like his company in person on a long walk.

The picture was heavy but we stopped off at Paul Rothe delicatessen in Marylebone Lane to revive ourselves. Established in 1900, Paul Rothe and Son is now into its fourth generation behind the counter. It is run with old fashioned politesse and has the friendliness of a village shop but in upmarket, stylish Marylebone. Look them up – why are the chairs bolted to the floor, for instance?! Don’t pass it by – it’s a real find!

We had homemade hot minestrone soup and tuna sandwiches, surrounded by a ceiling to floor selection of delicious looking jams, pickles and sweets. I remembered Newbery fruits from my childhood. My father’s colleague, Dr. Gilchrist, always brought a box over on New Year’s Day. We now bought two boxes, along with chilli sauce, a favourite of John’s father.

Glitz was to be had in Bond Street but austerity measures were kept up and we made our way home to wrap up Newbery Fruits and the like for the Cotswold contingent. And I looked out my long, cashmere cardigan, bought last year in the sales. An Eileen Fisher – quite special! It’s always colder in the countryside. I must remember my hot water bottle too.

Bond Street ‘can can’ in silk and chiffon with velvet bows …

or would you prefer pink with gold feathers … and what were a girl’s best friend?

Time to kick up your heels …

The Ritz awaits …

But sadly, not for us. We are expected in the Cotswolds …via a quick visit to Fortnum’s.

A Christmas window …

The next morning was grey and threatened rain. We got as far as Chiswick Bridge and had to go back for various ‘things forgotten’. However, the roads were passable and not too busy. I spent some time in cloud contemplation and taking photos of water meadows and plain flooded fields at speed. The bypass at Oxford must have been built above the general level as we passed interminable ‘lakes’ on either side, with the tops of hedges sticking out like old toothbrushes.

I had a feeling of ‘déjà vu’ – we’ve done this journey so many times and now we are on the cusp of major change … John’s parents are now 92 and 90. Taking photographs appeals to one’s sense of self … keeping memories of things past while looking towards the future – and meanwhile enjoying what the present has to offer keeps one sane to an extent. Bad weather but good skyscapes today … I wonder what Samuel Johnson or Shakespeare would have taken pictures of… we are so enormously privileged today with all these inventions – yet many people often behave like spoilt three year olds, not realising their good fortune.

Cloudscape 1 caught in the mirror …

Trees engulfed by ivy …

What do you see? Bad snowmen in the trees?

Cloudscape 2 – Burford

And we finally arrive – the steep road into the village resembles a waterfall as we descend but at least the water makes its way onwards – elsewhere …

Arrival at speed …

And the rain continues to accompany Christmas festivities. However, there is good food and jolly company, a nonagenarian dowager dressed in glamorous tartan and a fur hat, a charming black labrador, white Christmas flowers, a sparkling tree and a warm stove.

It’s late afternoon as we make our way home next day. No traffic jams, a break in the rain as we climb the hill out of Burford. An accident at the Burford/Witney roundabout where a car has smashed through the central reservation and ended up on top of the bank opposite. The police wave us round. Then it’s only dramatic pictures of flooded fields, a few 100+ mile an hour drivers – mainly seem to be BMWs – and we’re on the home straight.

Twilight coming out of Burford …

Water meadows outside Burford …

Rain closes in again as we pass flooded fields at Oxford …

It’s very quiet back in Barnes. The house is warm and cosy and I’m looking forward to the holiday with reading, writing, walking and wine. And John will be writing his new book. I will press for a glass of really good champagne on New Year’s Day. I hope 13 will be lucky for once!

Indigo sky by the river with Barnes Bridge

END

I was waiting for a friend outside the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square – clouds were scudding across the sky – the weather was fitful, fretful, undependable. A gust of wind flung a spit of rain across my cheek and pulled at my hair. The exhibition we were about to visit was about the man who would have become Henry IXth. He was much loved and deeply mourned by the English people, dying of typhoid at the age of eighteen. His younger brother became Charles I.

It’s quite a small exhibition and worth a visit, especially if you are the sort of person who thinks about what might have been, should nature have taken a different course – as happened here.

The lost prince was about to be revealed to us inside the gallery. Outside, meanwhile, Nelson was choreographing the cloudscape while I watched both him and also the aeroplane passing overhead.

A dramatic backdrop – Nelson in charge – Trafalgar Square …

Nelson and company + aeroplane…

Our lunch at Browns in St Martin’s Lane amongst the potted palms and gleaming brass was very satisfying, the equivalent of a good French brasserie. The bar is long, impressive and inviting, with a pianoforte of sparkling glass. This Grade II building was formerly the location of the Westminster County Court. Upstairs are the judges’ rooms, now used for various private functions. It’s worth exploring – both upstairs and downstairs, before you leave.

I’m aware now at my age that there is so much that I will never know. Probably for the best, in some cases. But I feel the need not to lose what I do know and to keep expanding it – not in a linear way but instead, like three dimensional printing.

I seem to remember reading that the weight of ‘dark matter’ in the universe could be partly made up of thoughts. Are deeper thoughts weightier than shallower ones? How do we measure what we know and don’t know when we are not sure how much there is to know in the first place … ah well, Trafalgar Square and The National Galleries are a good place to expand what I already know. And Nelson keeps busy, with his head in the clouds.

END

It’s really worth looking ‘up’ from time to time as you beetle about your important business … no more so than standing on the opposite side of the street at Haymarket, where the horses jostle each other on the corner. Raise your eyes and leap into the blue. As ever, the clouds provide a perfect backdrop …

Skydivers at Piccadilly Circus

skydivers in silhouette

Skydivers in profile with captured clouds …

Top of the dome

If I had been shown these photos some months ago and asked in which city I might find them, I wouldn’t have guessed they were in London. Maybe you would – but, just in case, I’m asking you to look up from all your gadgets from time to time! It may be to your advantage … the body beautiful awaits you … and much else besides.

END

I don’t belong to Twitter… am happy not to tweet … but this ‘poem’ came to mind on the Piccadilly line … short but haiku sweet.

On the tube at Kensington
I saw a man so smartly dressed
Staring at his stylish garb
Embarrassed (for I stared too hard)
Then at Green Park he flew away
Umbrella’d on that rainy day.

END

We were passing the Odeon Shaftesbury Avenue, near to the market on Earlham Street when we had this – well – surreal experience. A sparky Irish girl came by – you can spot her legs in one of the photos. She stopped and got off her bike to join us in this fishy encounter.

Swimming past the Odeon …

A surreal experience in a goldfish bowl?!

Intentions of swallowing a white limo … Legs 11

Make of this what you will … a ‘coup de foudre’!

An inspired sculptor of fish …

The streets of central London are never dull – and then those Irish legs jumped onto her bike and she disappeared at top speed. All of a moment captured in time …

END

I tend to think that sunsets must always be best in exotic places. Here are two which prove me wrong!

Sun setting, Barnes bridge

This also gives me the opportunity to quote one of my favourite speeches in Shakespeare’s Henry IV Pt. 1. This play was part of the ‘The Hollow Crown’ series which was on BBC 2 earlier this year, produced by Sam Mendes. Jeremy Irons was faultless as the old king and Tom Hiddleston shone out as his son, Hal. This is spoken by him …

‘Yet herein will I imitate the sun
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
To smother up his beauty from the world,
that, when he pleases again to be himself
Being wanted, he may be more wonder’d at,
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
Of vapours that did seem to strangle him.’

We have had more than enough of those vapours of late but tempered by some glorious open skies. The sunset below is taken from the top window of our house.

October sky – Barnes

The colours remind me of the leaves described by Shelley in his ‘Ode to the West Wind’ – ‘yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red’ – worth a look for that and the rhythm of the poem. I must sweep up those Autumn leaves now!

END