Monthly Archives: August 2011

Notting Hill Carnival 1978

My girls’ grandad is the cool guy in this shot from the book ‘Black Britain’ by Paul Gilroy.

‘Colt 45: The Strong Beer for Real Men’

Notting Hill, 29 August 1978

Thankfully, despite his taste in beer, grandad was a lover not a fighter.

Wishing everyone a peaceful carnival.

‘Wonderful World, Beautiful People’

In my world, it’s the descending cello refrain on this that adds the soul.

‘Life? Life enjoys me…’

So said the septuagenarian Glen Campbell on the BBC Radio 4 Today programme yesterday morning. The guy has been diagnosed with alzheimers but continues to perform and is releasing a new album.

I saw him a few years ago and I had to resist the urge to touch the hem of his trousers, I was that near the front. Two reasons really, one it would be my only chance to touch someone who had touched Elvis, and secondly because he worried me by walking awful close to the edge.

There is no favourite Glen Campbell song. I picked this because I liked the JP McManus horse of the same name who won an epic battle at the Cheltenham Festival one year; sadly no longer with us.

I never knew what a lineman actually was until I saw this video. I think I thought it was some kind of traffic cop. I’m rather glad it’s not.

Taking my name in vain

Last week my current account was relieved by a scammer of Ā£600 quid, most of which I didn’t have anyway.

Things have changed since the last time this happened, a year or two ago when I had to go into the branch, fill out forms, wait weeks for a refund. This time I had a refund the following day and a replacement debit card the day after that.

This week I got sent a letter from the Yorkshire Building Society thanking me for opening an Internet Saver account. They gave me an account number and everything and said I had 42 days to make an opening deposit before the account I DIDN’T OPEN automatically closes. Looks rather like they automatically opened it. Not unlike that wretched insurance company that gave me some kind of insurance that I didn’t ask for either. This new form of pushing product beggars belief.

On the other hand, it could just be some kind fraudster trying to save in my name instead of spend. If anyone else wants to join in via electronic transfer – please feel free. Here are the details.

Bank Sort Code: 69-92-04
Account Number: 47328497
Reference: 4732849720

Apparently I’ve also agreed, as a member, to assign any windfall payment in the first five years to their Charitable Foundation. And as a member they welcome my feedback through Member Panels, or to attend Member Question Time (only if a Dimbleby’s hosting) or call their Member Suggestion Scheme on 0800 0565 252.

Again, feel free. If I had the least bit of energy I’d be fuming.

There’s no photo for this is there? There just bloody isn’t šŸ˜•

Trouts’ Pout

It’s not a compliment is it? Why has the poor trout been chosen for insulting others I wonder? After all, as you can see, a rainbow trout is a beautiful fish.

This pair are the Catch of the Day and come via i Phone, via Blackberry, via email to the blog directly from Wray Barton Wrecking Crew’s rod. No flies on her…

Blue & Green: not what they seem?

There is so much that we take for granted on a daily basis; perhaps assuming that one person’s experience is going to be another’s for example. It was fascinating then, to watch the BBC’s Horizon: Do You See What I See?

It turns out that how we see colour is not the same: illusion, mood, culture and language all directly affect our colour vision. Show this aspirational summer sky to the Himba tribe in Namibia and they will describe the blue and some of the greens with the same word. In fact, they will take considerably longer than readers of this blog to even see there is any difference in the colours of the leaves and the sky.

Five words cover the colour of their world.

Contrast this with the Desana language in the Amazon, a tribe who, with their words for such colours as yellow-bright like the sun’s rays, and yellowy-green, and greenish-blue like moonlight, can experience and describe their rainforest hues in all their spectral glory; leaving our *language, and perhaps our colour experience, wanting.

And best of all, consider this: blue and yellow are the first colours we evolved to see and as such are hardwired into our emotional lives.

Escape into blue and our perception of time quickens.

No wonder we miss those summer skies…

*A useful list of words for colours

Corrugated iron fence

It reminded me of a Gerhard Richter abstract painting, but this isn’t one of his: I checked.

The life of a tinker’s cur…

…is a tiring business what with having to leave hair all over the upholstery and mud on the seats.

A Gnome’s Home

Elodie was giving him a retouch in the caravan.

I think she was singing Steve Winwood’s ‘Back in the high life again’ at this point.

Rudi’s Spiritual Home

And mine too, perhaps.

On this occasion the naughty Shetland pony Pooh had broken through onto the wrong side of the electric fence so he was unable to join us in the caravan for a cup of tea which is something he’s rather keen on trying to do.

I am not keen on the narrow-eyed look he’s giving us but we all agree you can’t beat a bit of beige and fawn with plenty of formica.