Category: images

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Pass the sick bag, Alice

(And for those who don’t know, as I didn’t, the origin of the above endearing expression, it was apparently a catch-phrase of former newspaper editor Sir John Junor. From the same source we discover that “here’s one I made earlier” is from Blue Peter, where blogging is hot, not Fanny Craddock as might have been the case. Another mystery solved.)

Anyway, enough of this quick tour of the murkier quirks of British culture of the second half of the last century and back to current cuteness.

Today the sleep deficit caught up, we all overslept and there was more-than-usual chaos in the house. And there was a deadline very very close.

This is all by way of explaining why so much of the morning was spent on the bed in a dressing gown with the creatures. I was working, frantically, on the laptop. I failed to shut the bedroom door. They infiltrated and, it being cold and the laptop hotter than any radiator, moved in. Together.

Obviously the camera was to hand. And every now and then, when the files took entire minutes to save or the internet was broken, there was enough time to take a quick picture of the cutesome twosome.

And the pictures are by way of attempting to convince various visitors to the house who have witnessed Maizy clamping the cat’s head in her jaws and dragging him across the floor whilst emitting sounds which resemble death-curdling growling (but are obviously meant in a very kind and caring way) that the two do really get on very well together. Displaying cuteness so cute you might need a bucket.

Unfortunately every time I shifted position Maizy would wake instantly and spring to attention thereby significantly reducing the cuteness quotient. Stealth was required, and no flash.

It’s also an excuse to use this fantastic little widgety thing called PictoBrowser which comes live and direct via the Via, the Via Negativa, where Dave has used it to make a breathtaking display of his favourite pictures. He’s also explained all its exciting mouseover features which is another really good reason to visit.

For those with a stomach strong enough for blurry soft focus pet pics the cuteness slideshow is below the fold.

Continue reading “Pass the sick bag, Alice”

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Potty

I am, I freely admit, absolutely potty.

potty

I should really draw a veil over the subject.

spring gauze

But there’s no getting away from it.

takeoff

I have bought a new camera.

catera

Put it next to something so I can see how small it is, she said. The cat! she said.

It is absolutely tiny, like my hands. And so are the lenses. I took a 4″ handheld shot which included the clock on my desk and so small and light is it that there’s very little shake and the clock’s second hand can be seen equally in each of the four second positions.

I’m selling my old body to pay for most of it. (Yeah yeah very funny. NOT.) But actually it’s just sheer irresponsible self-indulgent retail therapy at its most hedonistic.

Up far too late again, very tired but floating on the gadget love boat.

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Pink and orange weekend

Two colours I like very much together.

Sunday was pink,

wet flowers

Saturday was orange.

night park

Yes it’s ridiculously late but I have achieved much. And I might have a nap tomorrow.

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Playing with the moon

It was up in the afternoon, a gleaming crescent basking in the spring-like sunshine.

calipers

Semi-sprawling semi-crouching over the bonnet of a car got it aligned with the calliper branches of the tree above. It took several attempts to get the picture right. Then again in a different position, wedged between a phone junction box and a lamppost, to get it reaching to cup a bauble.

moon under bauble

A beautiful day. Low gentle sun and blossom erupting everywhere. Someone (not me) threw away my bunch of tulips not realising their huge beauty and the beauty still to come. Luckily a neighbour had shared their own bunch of spring flowers by putting them out on the windowsill in front of a superbly reflective window.

spirit of spring

Thank you for sharing them, whoever you are.

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Communication breakdown

last legs

Some people have tried to comment and can’t. Whilst this blog is not a throbbing hub of sparking dialogue I do like it when people comment and it’s distressing to learn that there appears to be an obstacle.

This seems to be a problem encountered by other WordPress users and I suspect might be related to the coComment enhancer plugin I’m using. I’m deactivating the plugin to see if that addresses the problem.

So, um, (the standard question for checking everything works before recording an interview) what did you have for breakfast? Or alternatively we could discuss the extraordinary beauty of dying tulips. Below is a crop of the picture above to illustrate this point.

last toes

Less welcome would be comments about the quantity of dust on my kitchen table. Or the dead pixel in the picture.

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Fly Feather Fly

Fly Feather Fly

This is Fly Feather Fly, a stone print made by Zimbabwean artist Richard Jack in 1993. And a very small part of the chaos that is the room I spend most of my time in.

I’ve been a bit lax with the picture a day project the last few days and it’s nearly midnight again. And there have already been far too many pictures of the cat.

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Change

As the tulips on the kitchen table bend gracefully with the imperative of gravity on decreasing turgidity so their petals spread wider and wider. But each has one or two furled inwards over stigma and stamens like a man surprised naked will cover his genitals with his hand.

modest tulip
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Snort snort

It’s the year of the pig. Apparently it’s very fortunate to bear children in the year of the pig because they will be honest and happy. The firstborn is such a one. He is 12 in a few days’ time.

These lights are at Oxford Circus. So much more attractive than the revolting Christmas decorations hanging there last December.

year of the pig

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Barking

The above piece of bark, part of the shed skin of a London plane, was picked up in the autumn for a school art project but never made it out of the house. This morning I put it on the kitchen table with some pieces of paper and experimented.

If it isn’t immediately clear what any of the pictures is supposed to resemble (and I assume that’s almost undoubtedly the case) you can click through to the flickr photoset to see the titles. Or just make up your own.

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Not taking the biscuit

tulips

I watched the light drain from the day through the petals of the tulips on the kitchen table.

Beside them on the table was a cold mug of drinking chocolate, a thick and wrinkled skin covering its surface, and a packet of biscuits.

“Do you want to die?” shouted the secondborn.

It was a difference of opinion over the biscuits. Those on the table were not the right sort. I was ordered to go out and buy a different sort.

I had said no, and was sticking to it, had stuck to it for nearly two hours of screaming tantrum and was still saying no in the face of threatened annihilation.

I was very tired.

“Yes” I said. “Yes, I want to die.”