Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Friday, 12 February 2016
A walk in the park
You need Java SE6 Runtime to open these files. Oh do I? I wonder which one to choose out of these 200 versions? I know, I will close that window and take a stroll over to Blogger's Park...
It's nice in the park today. Not as much frost as yesterday when it was crunchy underfoot, but plenty of sunshine. Good news too: the U.N. has decreed that the situation in Syria will be resolved (or vastly improved) within a week. This will be done by bringing together all the warring factions and forming a civil administration, but Russia says that they will continue to bomb 'terrorists' regardless.
I get the strong impression that the U.N. has moved their headquarters into Trump Tower, Manhattan.
I stood beneath Trump Tower once and gazed up at the solid gold building, wondering what egocentric maniac could possibly have built it. A year or two later, a glass-cutting friend of mine (they are known as 'Brilliant Cutters') was commissioned to line every wall of the apartment at the top with gilded mirrors. That was when I began to get an idea of what kind of egocentric maniac had built the tower.
I have yet to hear anything of substance regarding policy come from Trump's mouth. So America is going to be Great again, is it? So the Healthcare system is going to be fixed, is it? So the streets of every town and city are going to be safe to walk at night, are they? Has anyone actually asked him how he is going to perform these miracles? Obama couldn't manage to get any improving laws passed in two terms, but there again, he is a Democrat I suppose.
Normally, I try not to get involved in any other countries' politics, but the U.S.A. has it's finger on our button as well as their own. Our button IS their button.
Ok, I am going to stop staring at that tower and walk past into the lungs of New York. There are white Egrets standing on the edge of the lake, their reflections in the water under the bridge like little white Giacometti sculptures with beaks.
On the other side of the lungs, there is a little piece of ancient Egypt - a temple built (or re-built) from golden stone - but without roller blades, it is too far to walk, so I will take a taxi round the outside edge, deliberately not stopping at MOMA on the way.
Every once powerful country has got a piece of ancient Egypt. I am reading a little book on Rome right now, and there is a good quote from a pre-Napoleon resident to the effect that the English had taken vast quantities of statuary and paintings as plunder from the city, but none of it was any good. So much to choose from, but the average soldier's idea of what good art is lacks education.
Actually, most collectors lack education, and the ones which do have it have acquired a sense of history rather than beauty.
For some reason, vast hoards of Welsh women come to shop here in Bath every Saturday and one wandered into my workshop some years ago to ask me to make her a baronial fire-surround for her little house in the Valleys. It had to be Bath stone and as large as possible, she said.
She was the wife of the local, cash-rich butcher (Jones the Meat) and her kitchen had recently been fitted out in acres of pure Italian marble. Remember that this was a little miner's cottage in the Valleys.
When the surround was finally installed in the tiny room - towering over the T.V. set - she said, "There. Now I have a little piece of Bath, right here in my home."