The last of the 'Splash of Red' for now.
Penquins are a standing joke in one part of our family and the presense of this pair in our glasses cupboard bears witness to it.
Next month, if I carry on, there'll be a new theme, TBD.
"And this is of interest to me how?"
(Except on the subjects of religion and food, the opinions stated here are not necessarily those of the Author. The Author reserves the right to vary his opinions to suit the purposes of narrative, humour or just because he can). All photographs have been taken by the Author.
The last of the 'Splash of Red' for now.
Penquins are a standing joke in one part of our family and the presense of this pair in our glasses cupboard bears witness to it.
Next month, if I carry on, there'll be a new theme, TBD.
A couple of splashes of red on my O-Gauge model railway layout in the form of an LMS 0-6-0T, colloquially known as a 'Jinty'.
Apparently the recent periods of enforced home dwelling has led to a resurgence of interest in this hobby (which is nice).
It has taken a long time for shops to realise that men need to be catered for in female-oriented retail outlets. Here I am, perfectly content with my paper (it's an old photo, today it would be an iPhone) and I'll sit there for an hour or more if needs be.
The annoyance comes when Monica decides, after a couple of minutes, that there's nothing of interest and we're off out again.
Several years ago when I obviously had as much time on my hands as I do now, I went through a phase of using Photoshop to single out colours on a photograph against a monochrome background.
This is one I did on an image taken on a sunny, spring day at the junction of Broad Street and High Street in Pershore, Worcestershire. Hours of fun!
One of our regular walks takes us over an oil pipeline that runs from Fawley in Hampshire up to the West Midlands. It was built in the 1980s and is here 164.9 kilometres from its start point. It's gratifying to see that imperial measurements are still alive and kicking as witnessed by the 14 inch pipe diameter.
Once more we are cut off to the south. This is somewhat restricting when it only leaves one road out of the village. Fortunately it takes an almight deluge (as happened in 2007) to cut us off to the north as well.
As a result of the River Avon frolicking beyond its banks, today's trip to the farmshop for some goodies was 24 miles instead of 5. Not a big problem as, with the current restrictions, it's pleasant just to have an excuse to drive anywhere.
Keills Port, a grand name for an inlet with a small jetty on the Knapdale peninsula in Argyll. Looking west towards the Isle of Jura on one of those perfect days that come along from time to time in Scotland.
I posted this today as an antidote to the stormy weather that we're having - I wouldn't fancy being there now.
Just back from my daily walk - I say daily but you'll not get me out if it's raining. It's a tedious and unpleasant form of exercise, akin to being on a tread mill but with added weather; today it manifested itself as a cold westerly.
My preferred exercise, if there is such a thing, is cycling. Unfortunately thousands of miles bowling around the countryside gave me problems in the bike/body interface region which needed clinical intervention so I gave it up. On foot it is then although, with my dodgy ankles, for how much longer?
Not so much a splash of red as a riot. This corrugated iron church is near the village of Daleswinton in southern Scotland. Makes a statement.
On the way we stopped off at a place on the map called Spotted Horse. It looked like a useful midpoint on our journey, the only habitation for miles and perhaps a couple of cafes, an antiques shop or two, somewhere to wander. However this image shows the whole shooting match bar a caravan behind camera. The garage sold everything and was run by a couple who must have been on a 'How to be an Eccentric' course.
Monica is sitting outside chatting to the owner. We had a typical American coffee - how they ever have the nerve to complain about the coffee in England - and resisted the food. As we left they presented us with a bumper sticker - I don't think many Brits passed their way.
Several splashes of red here and that's going to be the theme this month.
When I started writing this journal seventeen years ago I was obsessed with images that had a splash of red in them (and groups of three). Quite a bit of a splash here but within the spirit of my original brief. And a group of three.
This doorway is in the small town of Berkeley in Gloucestershire, notorious as the place were King Edward II was put to death in a particularly gruesome fashion in 1327, He is buried in Gloucester Cathedral although, if some historians are to be believed, the body is a substitute, no doubt some handy passing serf, and the king himself slipped away to France and had a merry old time.
Such is history, always good for a rewrite.
In 2012 we visited Memphis while driving around a number of southern states.
I'm not a fan of Elvis Presley but a visit to Sun Studios was well worth it although we didn't bother with Gracelands as that might have risked an Elvismania infection (and who would want that). Still we stood on the spot where he made his first recording and Monica tried to stop me muttering about how uninspiring his music is.
The image above has no relevance other than I found it when sorting through photos on my computer and liked it. So there it is.
It's unlikely that my sudden resurrection of this journal will survive after so many years of dormancy as I rely on images to spark off and there are precious few opportunities to gather them now that we are forced into another period of seclusion; the word 'lockdown' is totally inappropriate and I will not use it.
There are a few things to note as we make our daily perambulation of the village and this is one of them. The old telephone box has been turned into a free lending library and, to be fair, it's not all chick-lit and thrillers. So far we've picked up a couple of good reads.
The first seclusion tied in with a period of exceptional spring weather and we managed to paint everything in the garden that stood still for long enough. At this time of year it's not really an option although I did mow the lawn just before Christmas. Monica keeps threatening to get me washing the car but I reckon I can hold that off until at least April. It's not going anywhere after all.
Recently I've been seeing statements such as 'The Israeli facemask that everybody is talking about' and my first reaction is 'Really?' Everybody? The total population of the world? In all probability this extravagant word could be replaced by 'a very few' or even 'nobody'.
Another bugbear is the use of 'strictly'. Surely if something is private, it is private - you don't go there. So what additional level of privacy does 'strictly, add, Do you get molested by large dogs or thrashed with a birch cane, rather than welcomed with tea and a cream scone - just more linguistic nonsense.
So everybody (strictly Engish-speaking everybody only), STOP IT!
The image is not relevant to the above whinge; it's a tall man and a bush like a horse.
A blank page cries out for words like a sandy beach cries out for a castle; DJC-B
The one who says it cannot be done should not interrupt the one doing it; Chinese Proverb
A mill cannot grind with the water that has passed; Chinese Proverb
A ringing telephone is an invitation, not an imperative; DJC-B