The beach at Tonfanau

On the way back from Wiltshire, I went to Wales for a few days to see Bev and Craig at the Flying shuttle in Newtown, where on Tuesday night in a coincidental continuity with the previous blogs we had a carry out curry from a fellow who used to have a shop on Brick Lane. Food seems to have been a quite noteworthy point of the few days as on Saturday I ate an Italian of the dimensions that I was unable to pour a bottle of cider on top of it all – thanks Bev (who paid).

On Sunday Bev, Giz and me (still straining slightly at the seams with scallops, carbonara and tiramisu) clambered into the car and wended our way across Wales, where we left the car at Tonfanau Station (with it’s one platform that you have to ask the guard nicely if you want the train to stop there) and wandered down to the beach.

Spotted just before the beach, this butterfly. After a rake in the butterfly book later, we recon this is an Adonis Blue.

For the highly observant, Mount Snowdon is somewhere in the hills in the background.

For the first time since 1989 (where it was the Indian Ocean as opposed to Cardigan Bay) I was tempted into the sea) - only as far as my knees granted, and completely undocumented on film so you'll just have to take my word for it. I do have proof for Bev and Giz being in the water.

What I though was a pair of oyster catchers, turned out to be a pair of Curlews when I looked at the pictures later

Between the beach and the railway tracks were a selection of abandoned military buildings, probably dating back to the war. On of them appears to have come a cropper with the retreating cliff and there were quite a few large chunks of brickwork around this part of the beach. Here somebody has put in a bid for a Turner prize with the addition of a shoe.

If I were giving out the Turner prize, then the person who balanced these rocks, and half a dozen more besides, would be more likely to get it.

I don't think I've ever walked over a railway line before (it was an official crossing), so it would be a waste not to take the obvious photo.

And finally, a little piece of Welsh countryside, where we sat and ate a sandwich and a packet of crisps on the way back.

Finding Hanks - A madman and a string ensemble

 Actually this particular London adventure didn’t quite end at Hank’s as train time was still a bit away but my feet were complaining a bit and Covent garden was close by which usually offer much stationary entertainment as well as tea purchasing opportunities.


Hey mate! I don’t think that ladder’s secured properly.

Ooh, he’s got a knife.

It was about this time that he took off his kilt – who’s to complain to a man carrying so many knifes.

At least he wasn’t a true Scotsman.

The Very entertaining ZHL String Ensemble.

In fact they were just about too entertaining as I cut it rather fine getting back to Paddington especially since the lifts at Covent garden tubes were not working correctly. I decided to go down the stairs instead – I’ve never seen so many stairs they seemed to be never ending – I have quite some admiration for the people going up the stairs, I’m sure one of them was Jules Verne.

Finding Hanks - The Broadgate Venus.

KP to K4 always seems a good way to start for me.

The extraordinary Broadgate Venus. Have you ever seen such a voluptuous lump of bronze?

At last – Hank’s. Turns out that most of London’s music shops are on the same street – handy now I know – anyone got next weeks lottery numbers?

Finding Hanks - Brick Land and Graffiti

I’ve never read Brick Lane, nor have I seen the film but I did accidentally stumble upon the street with it Mosque and endless curry houses. I suspect that in the evening the street would have smelled wonderful but at 9 o’clock in the morning even the 2nd best curry chef of 2009 has his shutters pulled down and most of the bustle in the street seemed to be people popping over to the mosque for morning prayers.

In the streets round about Brick Lane there is quite a bit of graffiti, the best of it seems to be by somebody who goes by the name of Jef Aerosol.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 

Finding Hanks - A pear, a fig and lots of rabbits.

Finding Hanks - Spittlefields Market

Life takes turns from time to time and you never know what’s around the corner, so I suspect that this’ll be the last of the London blogs for a while. When you live in an adult world it is quite possible to wander of in your separate directions in a perfectly amicable fashion, so I wish Kes all the best and there will certainly be more mentions of Wiltshire again in these pages

In the mean time, last week once again found me sitting in MacDonald’s drinking a cup of tea and secretly nibbling on somebody elses croissant and thinking I had a distinct shortage of guitar picks in my pocket, so a quick surf on my phone gave me the address of Hank’s guitar shop – in all my wanderings, I had never seen a music shop in London – they must be there, but where, I don’t know. Opening time was still 3 hours away so I thought I would start my wanderings at Spittlefields market and see where they lead from there.

A Thursday morning at Spittlefields is apparently Antiques and Collectables day and there is no doubt that there were some antiques and collectables there but it was mainly junk. Tables piled with bits of jewellery and broken watches, with no attempt at organisation, loose pages of old books and some very scruffy stuffed animals – in fact almost anything was for sale as long as it was a bit bashed about. Actually were it next door to me and I wouldn’t have had to carry purchases the length of the country, I would have come away with a tonnage of stuff – an unusual victory for common sense.

After a wander around Spittlefields, I was feeling a little peckish when I spotted the S&M café – just the very dab. Apparently S&M stands for sausage and mash – to be quite honest I never thought it could have stood for anything else. An excellent sausage sandwich there (on which to test out the selection of 4 types of mustard on the table) and a mug of tea naturally.

Kirkcudbright Arts and Craft Trail.

I arrived back here in Kirkcudbright, after what seemed like an awfully long time away, to discover I've just managed to catch the last day of the Arts and Crafts Trail. Once a year several art studios open up to the public along with various peoples gardens and crafts types come out of their burrows during daylight hours in an effort to persuade the public that they're not bonkers after all. Had I ventured out this afternoon with more than two slices of toast for the days nutrition, I might still be out there legging about the town admiring the notions that have escaped from peoples heads, but I didn't. To avoid fainting over the keyboard, I am tucking into the chilli con carne that I should have eaten last night, as I type.

Anyway, I've got a big pile of pictures here so I'd better get on with it. On the left is one of the closes that lead off the High Street that you don't normally get to go down - must be delightfully peaceful places to stay.

This is Kirkcudbright's answer to Travey Emin's Unmade Bed.

It seems the chainsaw is the tool of choice of the sculptor these days.

The house of E.H.Hornel usually charges to get in but for today's events it was free as some of the artists were occupying Hornel's studio. I like the unfinished pictures that are here. Maybe they're unfinished because he popped his clogs before he had a chance to finish them or maybe he thought they were rubbish and stuffed them away somewhere, in which case he'll be mortified they're out on display ( or whatever the version of mortified is for a person who is already many decades mortified)

Belted galloway rats.

Ok, let's try again with a little more time on the timer

Now there's a picture