No walk in the park

In August, two years ago, while walking in Greenwich Park,

I noticed tiny white tufts growing at regular intervals in the grass.

I bent down to examine them and found that they were plastic.

How strange.

Only later did I discover that they were markers 

for the Olympic cross country event.

 Yesterday, we attended the first equestrian event

of the Paralympics at Greenwich Park.

Great Britain's Natasha Baker posted the highest dressage score, 

riding Cabral in driving rain, 

which started just as she entered the arena.

The penultimate rider, Barbara Minneci rode Barilla,

an Irish Sport Horse, sidesaddle.

It was easy to forget why this was not just a walk in the park

for any of the competitors, 

who performed with poise and precision

on their light-footed horses.

 The commentator repeatedly asked for no applause

until the horses were reunited with their handlers,

so I'm clapping loudly now.

The rust coloured mackintosh

Let's go to Brighton, I said,

to see the Biba exhibition.

(I once had a Biba mackintosh.

It was rust coloured and had sleeves 

you needed pipecleaners for instead of arms.

I was so proud of it, 

I was prepared to risk cutting off my circulation.)

Let's not drive,I said.

We'll go by train along the coast.

When we got there, well,

it was pretty much like Penzance

with its storm tossed seas

and brave souls promenading,

fishing

 and flying.

This young gull hunkered down, wisely, I felt.

And I had made a mistake about the exhibition.

It doesn't start until next month,

but I did see a Harold Harvey,

A Kitchen Interior,

which squared the circle nicely, 
as they had all been taken down in the Penlee Museum 
when I went to see the Laura Knight exhibition.

Gertrude, on the stepladder, has a cardigan very much like mine.

The table and the mirror frame 
are the exact colour of my Biba mackintosh.

Textures

Soft

Sharp

Soft

Sharp

He's off again

 but this time packed with much more of the language

that he loves.

We went to Wisley on the way home from the airport,

and discovered, so appositely,

the new Bonsai Walk.

In the Open Air

 Let's go to Cornwall I said,

to see the Laura Knight exhibition

'In the Open Air'.

Let's not drive.

We'll go by the midnight Cornish Riviera Express to Penzance.

We can 'sleep' in teeny tiny bunks,

and be brushing our teeth in Truro tomorrow.

When we get there we could choose whether to be

doused by torrential rain

or deluged by towering waves in the open air.

Better still, we could go on a four hour open top

bus ride to Land's End and experience both

in a breath snatching gale.

St Ives isn't far by train.

We can have lunch at the Porthminster Beach Cafe

which is dry and indoors

and then we can go to the Hepworth Museum

which is dryish and beautifully arranged.

Admire the restrained succulent and cactus displays,

both preferring to be indoors.

And finally to the Tate to see the best way to

enjoy the Open Air without trying to stay dry.

Glamping

Although we are sans cuisine,

it isn't too onerous at present.

This is an arm's length Project not being endured 24/7

and we are coping quite well 

with cool boxes and Thermoses

depending on the weather conditions.

The Magnolia is in flower again!

Coming up roses

I offer up these because it's infinitely nicer than looking at

this.

A pause

in the applause.

We've got tickets for the main event. . .

Sitting very still

in the garden.

Some kind of record.