‘What exactly do we call these Abu Dhabian, Dubian people?’ asked my friend Gordon brightly one morning. ‘Arabs,’ I replied.
In the spirit of Las Vegas, Arab princes compete with each other to see who can build the tallest tower, importing foreign culture wholesale. In the case of Dubai, the West is best and Stetsons can be seen amongst the dish-dashes and kanduras. The architecture is stunning, hotels monumental. This is where money lives.
Here’s the legendary sunset in Santorini. So impressive it gets a round of applause at the point of exit. Sun-crazed tourists whoop and scream their appreciation of Mother Nature, a primal reaction to pure unadulterated beauty. I think pagans have the right idea about the sun. It’s a thing of worship, even if I do have burnt forearms.
When I was young, my mother gave me a book from her childhood, Orlando the Marmalade Cat – His Silver wedding. I’m still fascinated by the illustrations of Kathleen Hale which captivated me as a child, and I’ve never seen an illustrator manage to evoke the slinky, almost human characteristics of cats with such grace and humour. Searching for more titles led me to a couple of surprising discoveries, such as Orlando smoking a hookah! As for invisible pyjamas… Continue reading
This is Prestbury, basking in the June sun.
The second day of summer and finally the sun comes out.
Old England...
Cheshire is very green, perfect for a city boy.
Beautiful flower boxes...
...on one of the most picturesque high streets in Britain.
There were rabbits all over Alderley Edge.
The view from the Edge.
Mrs. Madrigal never had lupins like these!
There are not many places left like this...
The sunlight was strange today, golden... getting inside the lens and playing tricks.
The view from the graveyard.
Like the wild rabbits, the cat wasn't bothered by the camera.
The crypt on a sea of blue flowers.
One last look and then off back to smoky bohemia.
Click on any of these pictures to see them full size.
This is Sparky’s final resting place, up on Alderley Edge, near The Wizard’s Well, sprinkled liberally on a warm spring day. It felt quite liberating in a way. Rounded things off with ice cream and a bit of mountaineering. Sparky was my loyal ginger rescue cat who passed away shortly before Christmas 2010. Incidently, Alderley Edge is traditionally the heart of English folklore, and legend has it that Merlin the Wizard lived here, destined for greatness after King Arthur rode through the Edge on horseback, and the rest is history. There is actually a natural spring, gushing from a carving of Merlin’s face, hidden deep in the hillside. I thought this was a fitting grave for such a legendary cat.
There’s not much of his face left, but you could be looking at the ancient Magus of pagan Britain…
It was a beautiful day- a real break from the city. There were Porsches in the car park and proper elocution coming through the trees. Someone called Helena, who only lasted three years with the flute glided past with a giant poodle… that kind of affair.
Sparky lasted seven wonderful years with me. Now I have a place I can visit, without having to worry about anyone building a conservatory over him. As an update, although the ferns have grown around him, you can still see his ashes on the ground. He finally got to be an outdoor cat.
The Piglet. Possibly singing, more likely running a food cartel in the kitchen. Rest in peace X
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