Streams of (sunlit) pleasure ever flowing

Catching the sunlight wherever and whenever possible

as sadly it is not ever flowing just now.

And when it fades at15.51

bring on the twinkly lights

and be glad that it is only eight days until

the Winter Solstice.

The greyest of days

The monotony relieved by

Andreas Gursky at the newly refurbished Hayward Gallery.

It has taken two years and the 66 restored pyramidal roof lights,

letting in 'God's daylight' as decreed by Henry Moore 

 make a big difference to the atmosphere on the upper floor.

I don't think they did anything to improve the loos though.

It was all going so well

Lush flowers. 

Blue skies.

Serene swan.

Fresh ferns.

Smiling lambs.

Sparkling sea.

And then the wind changed.

And it has been grim grey ever since,

with a side order of chilly wind

and a return to winter clothing

of which I am heartily sick.

So I took a leaf out of Lotta's book

and culled the towels

and then felt happy for Freda

and anyone else who isn't sitting under a cloud.

Perhaps some of you remember 

Neither Use Nor Ornament.

I get updates from there from time to time

and have vicariously enjoyed a recent trip 

to the tea plantations of Munnar

and an Ashram at Kurisumala.

Time to pack my bags perhaps.

That will guarantee an improvement in the weather at home.

We are the people who arrive at any destination to be greeted by the words,

'Oh if only you had been here last week. It was glorious.'

Vital signs

They are there but you have to look hard.

Sunrise at 7.44 am.

Tentative blossom.

No idea what these are but

they are coming out and that's good enough for

Shredded treat

Possibly the most successful present?

The tissue paper I shredded to fill her big present box.

A late gift for me?

Discovering the Hamamelis (witch hazel) flowering at Kew Gardens.

We made a snowman today!

Photo credit: mummy.

The allure of the past

 I'm not sure what I feel about 

Alastair Hendy's Home Store

after my second visit at the weekend.

Experiential shopping taken to extremes.

Who is buying the 

Denby and Woods Beryl Ware china

(aka Anglican china)

and ostrich feather dusters?

They aren't cheap here, but elevated to museum status

in their meticulously contrived vintage setting,

they exert a curious pull.

The fact that the same things can be found 

down the road in one of the many junk shops

at half the price means that people must be

 willing to pay through the nose for

the scent of the real open fires and dusty floorboards

if this oddity is to survive.

His window dressing is pitch perfect,

the attention to detail obsessive,

but the place has a haunted,

not a happy atmosphere.

It reminded me of Dennis Severs' house,

another time capsule experience

dominated by the personality of its creator.

I went in with my camera,

and wandered about in a slightly hypnotic state

but came out empty-handed into the chilly street 

with a feeling of relief.