Burj Dubai: world's biggest metaphor opens.

Loving the fawning coverage on most channels/ news reports of this new cock  skyscraper that's been built in Dubai. I'm sure most Parish Councils could knock up a similar pile of un-substainable pointless probably empty for years feudal tat if they paid the people who built it £2.84 a day! But as long as western designers swish in for the opening and make sure the cheques don't bounce, I'm sure it's a masterpiece.

Empire of Rust

Watch this Programme it's great
I know I go onto about him but the latest Jonathan Meades is top ep.2 about the Isle of Rust is brilliant. Bonkersly verbose as usual but excellent any fan of rusting sheds and abandoned rotting lorries should not miss the last 15-20 minutes I actually laughed out aloud (yeah I know I'm not normal but then again I never wanted to be that much) Anyway in a land were 3rd division ball room dancing and over wrought generic pop music hold sway on our screen do youself a favour and get Meaded

Oh and did Nigel Slater really make bubble without cabbage last night? He's got one of the those weird larders like Nigella has that has a camera man hiding behind the pickle and spice jars too must be tiresome in morning.

The church clock stands at 10 to 3

“Aisle 6 for tinned goods, toiletries & hideous carbuncles.”

As the train rumbled on I was reading a new compilation of John Betjeman’s TV scripts (I got it for a quid in the book frenzy as Borders on Oxford St. closes). It’s good if a slightly odd read, as some of passages refer to montages on the TV films we can’t see. It’s worth a look though.
I would have been in a Betjeman state of mind anyway; heading out of Paddington on the GWR does this to me for some reason. Changing trains at Didcot (I think it’s could be the name) is an essential JB moment particularly if a steam engine is puffing by.

In one passage in the book JB’s praising some alms houses and describes the beauty of a cupola/lantern/dovecot built above their communal dining hall. As I read this bit the train sped past some out of town shopping centre, a Tesco centre and there topping off this temple of “best of Tuscan-style tomato & Parmesan vine grown organic frittata & Value range savoury egg multipack” over consumption was a cupola. You’ll see it’s like sprinkled all across this part of the country; seemingly the last cynical click of the mouse designed not to flood the interior with light and air or even host cooing doves but to ensure the fall of the rubber stamp of some beleaguered council planner and the subsequent nod from the misguided acquiescent local councillors. They give an arrogant finger to their neighbours; my heart always sinks whenever I see them.

A Taxi tour of Midsomer County via the breakfast bar.
After dropping my bags off at my travel lodge, 75 quid a night but “the “premier breakfast” is 8 quid extra (how can a breakfast without say kippers or black pudding be “premier”? What’s “premier” about a thimble sized shot glass of sugary orange juice and what service exactly would I get if I asked the pimply but friendly staff “to warm my croissant”?) I got a cab to the church where my friends were getting married.

Along the way the “local lad” driver got lost! While he tried to find his way he inevitably informed me of the inadequacies of the one way system (does anyone ever care about this? No but cabbies the world over insist of telling you about it “you see you use to be able to turn right here but the pillocks at the Council blocked it off...”). He wasn’t a bad soul and dropped the price down for us having cruised the mean streets of Wallingford twice looking for the church. (My map was right it turns out “there is a church down there” after all).

Pre-wedding Butterflies and Romanesque musings
I was in plenty of time however and sat in a patch of sunshine in the otherwise shady church yard. The church I think would have please old John B being as its impossibly old (a list of former Rectors on the wall goes back to 1200’s). Its walls curving to little towers and also at the east end of the nave. It was really a very bucolic setting, patches of the grounds had been left to grow long and where filled with wild flowers providing nectar for buzzing butterflies and bumble bees. Above me somewhere a black bird serenaded us all. Inside the choir (Don’t listen to anyone who says the English can’t sing!) were practising and for moment avian and human voices were entwined. Over come by it all I was just about to go next door and ask if there was still honey left for tea!

Reluctantly I went inside, the church was filling with tiny hats and impossibly high heels, new suits and freshly shaved chins. Being Romanesque (in design) the church has a wide curved arch across the nave delicately carved with simple repeating floral cross reliefs. At times like these my mind drifts off to thoughts of the people who built these places. Not strangely the fresh off the boat Norman using his ill gotten wealth to glorify God (and himself along the way) but the put upon nameless mason chipping away at the honeyed stone. I doubt he would've imagined I would be sat here all these many years later in my tight collar and tighter best shoes looking up at his delicate work. His simple open carving out lasting the vanity of his patron. I’ll have to stop now the brides arrived and the blackbirds struck up again.

Monkee Business

London lunch time stuff

I Saw Mickey Dolenz just off Bedford square he was dressed for a day at Lords, smart panama, suit flannel trousers; it’s always nice to know these people really exist and no I didn’t mention Metal Mickey.

I’d just been shorn under the sign of the posh frog, all to the tune of Bonkers Dizzie oh and 7 quid plus tip. I was snipped by a taciturn Asian lass, who said nary a word all the way through my trim but then gave me the biggest smile when she’d finished, it was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.

After that while I munched my lunch in Bedford square some AA students where working on their latest project it’s all wavy sheets of ply and hardboard, here’s me waffling on about last years effort.

After that it was a case of avoiding buying anything in Gosh and a bit of lens envy in the camera shops and then back to work.

Here's the Monkees in rather wonderful clip of girl I new somewhere, the man has got to youtube so you can't imbed them :(

Spain!

Just watched the last episode of the Andrew Graham Dixon's Art of Spain on BBC4 I-play. The whole series was excellent, with obvious problem of having to cover Goya, Picasso, Miro, Dali and Brunel in one hour long programme aside, the last show was full his usual thoughtful engaging passionate stories.

The section about Luis Brunel reminded me that although Feb is my year anniversary over here at chez blogger I had another blog in another life over at casa yahoo. (it was a pain to use, the whole structure was annoying comentators had to sign up to yahoo etc).

Being a pretentious git or just at loss what to write my first ever blog post was a review of Brunel's most famous film 1960 Viridiana.
here's what I wrote. I seem to have not liked it which isn't what I remember which is the good thing about diaries I suppose.

It contains description of the plot not sure I'd heard of SPOILER at the time! Oh and bad joke to start with.

"Entry for November 02, 2005
did ya hear the one about the dyslexic pimp who bought a ware house?

Just got back from seeing a Luis Brunuel film "Viridiana".
It was a dark satire ie it wasn't very funny. I think if you were a very devote catholic in1961 you would be really shocked but it is less striking now. Basically it is parable about how trying to do good can prove the undoing of even the most pure of heart. The main character is trainee nun sent home on the eve of her marriage to Christ to see her Uncle. He is obsessed by her and after drugging her and attempting to rape her, tops himself . She along with her cousin inherit the uncle's estate and she sets about turning it into her own religous comunity, peopled by the local down and outs.
In the end her good intentions come to nought in an orgy of violence, booze, sex and custard (all to the tune of Handel's Messiah).There are allsorts of codes and messages in the film as well as the general onslaught against organised religion. Scenes where you get to see a nuns legs must have been totally new in 1961 , but are now the stuff of bad light entertainment. Even socialism doesn't get off lightly the poor and the oppressed are shown to be offish, venial and amoral not your upstanding chiselled saints pictured in soviet art. In fact all humans are shown in pretty poor light."

Ps . I included Goya's May 3rd at the top as it was conspicuous by it's absence from the programme. Goya's "black paintings " are great and weird but I found this as moving, although it was included in the excellent secret life of masterpiece series from year ago, so we'll let Andrew off.

London Peculiar

On the way to Fulham Palace for a picnic and a game of boule , my mate S from Dodgy Boozers pointed out this hidden gem of a row of beautiful alms houses, nestling at the edge of the park.