Monthly Archives: February 2018
I went swimming this week and had a whole blog I wanted to write, which I was going to illustrate with this detail from an oil painting in the National Maritime Museum, Greenwich. I have spent far too long this morning trawling through the museum’s online catalogue in order to attribute the painting correctly and time marches on, so the whole swimming thing will have to wait until the next blog.
As well as failing to write the intended blog, I have also failed to attribute the picture. Winning at life…
I seem to remember asking at the time of the visit what the painting was titled and by which artist and no-one could answer. The mystery lives on, but look at that sea boil.
I’ve been pot-holing this week. Exploring the cracks, crevices, fissures and trenches where glaciers, rivers and oceans pulse, slowly.
If I’ve been spinning with my head in infinity for the last while, this is the week where I came back to reality with both a bump and then, for one alarming dreamsleep moment, a slipslide beneath the tide encased in a sealed train carriage.
Dreams tell me things. How I am doing now. How I did in the past. What I need to watch for in the future.
Trouble is, I don’t often know what they were telling me, except in the thin shadow of a very long and highly blurry hindsight.