Canned Lions

Four Paws. I had never heard of this charity until a letter and calendar arrived in the post. I support a number of charities. You’d think they’d want to keep me to them selves, but no, they share my address, so I average four appeals for cash per day in the post.

I have taken to returning the literature of many of them with a polite request to remove me from their mailing list, explaining that I do not have the resources to support every charity, but I shall help them when and if I can.

The picture on the envelope for Four Paws made me stop on the stairs. It showed a lion cub curled up in the corner of a cage. As a picture of unhappiness it would be hard to beat. Anyone who thinks animals do not have emotions, cannot feel sadness, loneliness, abandonment should see that picture.

London’s South Bank, Geographically Inexact

The famous bends of London’s river mean that at a point where you are actually on the east bank of the Thames, you’ll find the South Bank.

Not that it seems to worry anyone.

Geographically inexact, the South Bank Arts Complex and river side walk, is a brilliant, yet undersung, part of the capital, whatever the compass point or season.

Here, sixty years ago people gathered for the Festival of Britain; a concerted effort to cheer a population who had endured the dark days of the Second World War, and the austerity that followed.

My parents went. Married three years and pretty penniless. I imagine my mother, in the first weeks of pregnancy, strolling wide-eyed, seeing a glimpse of this future world where her child, my older sister, would grow up.

Today, even in recession, people on the South Bank look look well fed and well dressed.

They are enjoying a festival to remember that festival of 1951, which was itself a conscious echo of the Great Exhibition of 1851, an event that spawned Expos around the globe.

Welcome

I had a meeting on the South Bank the other morning. Arriving early, I took the opportunity to use my camera.

I’ve been admiring the Urban Fox sculpture for weeks, every time I’ve crossed Waterloo Bridge on the bus.

Urban Fox Sculpture

I think he looks rather sad, but I was amused to see how the pigeons were using him as a roost.

Back to Rathlin

This is my third lot of pictures from my 2005 visit to Rathlin Island. There are more, but perhaps I should spare you.

Sicilian Holiday – Siracusa

Taormina made me want to see more of the historic sites, so it was just as well the following day we had the chance to go sightseeing in Siracusa.

A nice long bus ride after breakfast brought us into town at the tail-end of the rush hour and we had plenty of time to see how Siracusa gets to work. It was a bit drizzly and rather grey, so Taormina stayed ahead on points for attractiveness. Siracusa is also a lot bigger, and has more of an urban sprawl about it.

We split up into pairs and then all headed in the same direction. Throughout the day we would bump into each other and even end up on the same tours.  Museum; catacombs; theatre, Dionysus’ Ear; toilets; amphitheatre; mega modern church, complete with leaks and buckets; Ortygia. We saw the lot.

We waited a while at the catacombs for an a tour in English. Our guide had a passing resemblance to Jackie Stewart; small and with a jaunty  black and white checked cap. I’m still not convinced she could actually speak English.  She must have thought we were a bit slow, as it took a couple of seconds before any of us reacted to her speeches. First we had to untangle the vowels and jiggle the sounds around a bit  before we could understand. I have never witnessed someone speaking English through constantly pursed lips. It has a curious distorting effect.

I was very pleased to learn that these were the same catecombs visited by Saint Lucia with the dangerous candles on her head. I had been wanting to ask, but was unsure of how our guide would react to an interruption to her delivery. In the middle of some fairly unintelligible syllables I heard the word Lucy. Knowing the story gave me a head start, and decoding that bit was a breeze.

My companion for the day was the most well-balanced member of our group, liked by everyone. We chatted away, and at the amphitheatre he filled me in on all the bloodthirsty bits I didn’t know about, having seen a recent television programme  about nasty things the ancients did to each other in the name  of entertainment.

We ended the day in Ortygia, wandering about seeing all we could and taking in the atmosphere, enjoying the narrow streets and glimpses of inner courtyards. We were nearly wiped out by a girl on a scooter who came round the corner at us, talking over her shoulder all the time to her friend. Two days of striding up and down hills stood us in good stead. We jumped. We lived. Her mouth opened in an ‘o’ of surprise when she saw us. I took a photograph showing how the greengrocer’s apostrophe has reached this far south, and then it was time for the bus back.