Alone at the Marina

I had some misgivings about coming East this afternoon. Celia and I went to see It's a Mad World My Masters at the Barbican last night. It's an RSC production, and, like most RSC productions, pretty damn good. Celia is currently a cricket widow with Charlie away in the West Indies, so she is free to be a cultural partner in crime.

The play finished at about 10.15, and by the time we got back to our patch of London it was 11. I was hungry, MasterB needed outside time, so the date had changed by the time I got into bed. Sleep was almost instantaneous, and when the alarm went off at 6.30 I felt quite rested and refreshed. But having been to work, my less than eight hours were catching up on me.

I stopped a couple of times on the journey; provisions and petrol. And took the opportunity to stretch and yawn. We hit patches of slow slow traffic, but by leaving later than I had intended, managed to miss some of the school run rush. All the same, I was aware of having to make myself concentrate, keeping the windows slightly open so a breeze whisked about me. Continue reading


Gentle Dereliction

Gosh, it’s nice to sit down. I have been on the go all day and tiredness is hitting me like a bag of sand. I’ve come into the sitting room to avoid a mess of paper I have to deal with in the kitchen. I put it there. In contrast, the sitting room is fairly ordered, but I am not looking too closely at the table or the trunk. Too much lurks there.

So maybe it’s this mood of gentle fatigue that makes me particularly appreciate these pictures tonight. The subjects aren’t exactly fresh and tidy, yet I like them. A comforting thought. Dereliction and decay can still have charm.

I like the way nature softens things that humans abandon. Things that often weren’t very pretty to start with. These derelict and dilapidated buildings are rescued from ugliness by the creepers and lichens. The sunlight helps too.