It seems to be the first day of Spring here now, warmish (by comparison to yesterday) weather, and the sort of deep sunshine which holds the promise of more to come, not just a flash between fast-moving clouds.
I went all the way to Oxfordshire yesterday, found a load of Polish builders who spoke no English at all in my way, and that I had come unprepared for the work needed. So I got back into the car and drove home again, avoiding the M4 by going cross-country via Tetbury, and all those antique shops.
I couldn't just sail past Highgrove without popping in to say hello to my old mate, Charles, so I rapped on the iron gate and was told to fuck off by a policeman. Just wait until Chazzer hears about this.
Just looked out of the window to see a group of French girls walk past the FRANCE in lipstick on the gallery wall, and one pointed to it. The others took no notice.
The last (and first) time I spoke to Chazzer, it was in my old workshop in the centre-ish of Bath, and I see that they are just about to demolish it.
This airy room was the stable for the builder's horse, being away from direct sunlight and an almost constant temperature year-round. The previous occupant had left a little patch of wall free from fresh whitewash, and written in pencil on this spot was the date that Dobbin was last shoed. I think it was about 1920 something. It is very sad that this place is about to be knocked down for the sake of the next generation, but I suppose it comes to us all.
It is - I imagine - difficult to have a meaningful relationship with the huge, Japanese, 4x4 pick-up trucks which builders favour for tax purposes these days, but you can - or could - read between the pencil lines of the blacksmith's records to see just how much love and care was freely lavished that old work-horse by the person who looked after it, but I supposed he worked for it.
A young friend of mine's father has just walked past outside, carrying a large placard advertising the Guildhall Market. He will stand outside all day for money as a human bill-board. My young friend and her brothers are a little embarrassed about his job, especially as he is a qualified accountant, but he seems quite happy, so what the heck?
The new street-business Tzar for Bath recently said she has her eye on those placard-holders, and she implied that they bring the tone down in this genteel town of Jane Austen fame.
We are not going to be allowed to clutter the place any more as did the Victorians. If it were not for the expense, they would remove all the junkie beggars too. They tried it once, then realised that they did not have the resources to help them in the new 'care in the community' social environment.
My late mother. - This is the last of my series of old photos, and a particular favourite of my late mother. Not too PC these days, but I like it anyway.
8 minutes ago