Much hotter than we expected, despite the wind and the chilly morning, a long walk in Thorndon Park left us wishing we’d left our coats at home. A lively late summer treat, eating blackberries from the hedgerow as we went and dodging the cows (and bulls) sharing the fields.
It’s the best part of a year since we last walked in the park which you realise, on a beautiful day like this, is far too long.
Emilie, Kathryn and Luke came down to Essex for the day. It seems they weren’t put off by last year’s roller disco. So we took them to Southend for a walk along the world’s longest pleasure pier (a mike and a third and frequently burned down or crashed into by tankers), proper seaside fish and chips and, of course, bingo.
The bingo was a bit embarrassing on account of the fact that I won the first two games after we sat down, Kathryn won the fifth and I won the sixth. We claimed our prize – Jumping Monkeys – and made a swift exit before the regulars came for us with pitchforks.
Southend was pretty manic, as always and we just missed getting drenched by a huge shower, but we had loads of fun, and stopped off in Old Leigh for a quiet walk in the setting sun before we all headed home. In all, utterly lovely.
When winter is here and the wind is howling, when there’s snow in the air and we’re slipping over on the ice, when the wind is cutting and stinging our eyes and when we’re sheltering from storms as we wait for the train… that’s when I want to remember this scene.
Ten minutes later we found ourselves knee deep in nettles.
I knew we shouldn’t have worn our shorts.
I finished writing my half of a co-authored book a month or so back, and the publishers are cracking on with it at unnatural speed. It’s almost at the proofing stage, but before they send it back for checking they’ve asked me to pick five of my own pictures then I’d like them to use as openers for my four of the eight chapters.
Here are the five I’ve sent them. Which one do you reckon they’ll decide not to use?
Black cat sign at a Slovenian bar
The Yorkshire Dales
A Portuguese cafe and shop, in Porto
A Spanish sunset
The Angel of the North
Nature can be cruel at times.
Had they survived, they would have grown up as blackbirds.
What a fantastic sunny weekend. The cat has spent his time sniffing around the borders and the chickens have been sun-bathing. We took the tarpaulin off the top of their compound and they’ve been enjoying the warmth, laying down in the chippings and spreading out the wings and legs to soak up the sun.
We’ve been out on our bikes. We rode up to Springfield and into town through Chelmer Village. The sun was so warm, and it’s lovely to be cycling under empty skies with not even an airline trail to spoil them. With all air traffic over the UK and much of the rest of Europe grounded by the volcanic eruptions in Iceland I’m enjoying our silent, deserted skies.
I know it inconveniences those who want to travel, but as far as I’m concerned, the longer it continues the better.
This will be of precisely no interest to anyone who doesn’t live in Chelmsford.
However…
I always regretted not taking a picture of the bus station before they knocked it down. And I always regretted not taking a picture of the half-finished Kings Tower as they built it up.
So, not to repeat the mistake, here’s the pile of rubble that now constitutes what was once the town-centre Anglia Ruskin University, soon to become a 20-odd story block of flats.
Such a shame. The campus wasn’t pretty, and the university does now have smart new buildings in the north of town.
Anyhoo, the picture below shows the state of the site right now, as the knocking down is well under way and the building has yet to begin.
The shonky angle is down to stitching together two images to make a single picture.
Last night, well gone midnight, when the champagne had been drunk and the new year well rung in, Oscar re-enacted the lead from Joseph and His Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat in the lounge.
This is brilliant. If you’re in London, head down to the Royal Academy and take a look at Anish Kapoor‘s Tall Tree and the Eye.
It’s a 15 metre high pile of 76 metal balls, highly polished and reflecting the surrounding buildings. The Guardian revels in the fact that it looks so fragile and light – and it’s right, it looks like the spheres are bubbling up from the floor and floating off out of the courtyard.
For me, though, the best bit is looking up at the reflected courtyard in the balls at the top of the pile, which is just beautiful. You get a great bird’s-eye view of the gallery all around you while keeping your feel flat on the floor.
