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“Art Bollocks on Steroids.”

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I happened to glance at something the other day from the people I buy my art materials from, Jacksons, who are excellent in providing what I need. They have for some years ‘sponsored’ an art prize and exhibition. Looking at the posting I see the following information: This year, Jackson’s Art Prize received 15,345 submissions from 117 countries around the world. 426 made it to the longlist, and 70 went on to the shortlist. From these 70, 20 artworks were awarded prizes including this year’s First Prize winner. That’s it! 15k submissions, how incredible, and after that only 20 prizes. What an … Continue reading “Art Bollocks on Steroids.”

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Dimmelsdale Freight and brickworks

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Now you might think this is a little strange but apart from being in the Corrugated Iron appreciation group on Facebook, 45k members and growing believe it or not, I have recently joined the UK Brickworks and Brickworks Past group, and have not regretted either. Corrugated Iron is of course a favourite subject of mine when it comes to photography, it degrades beautifully and is in my view capable of being part of a fine work of art. I seek it out on my walks and discovering it can make my day, or my week even. My experience with bricks … Continue reading Dimmelsdale Freight and brickworks

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William Shakesfear

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In need of a rebrand? Tread carefully. A small change to a name can make a difference. In the past week I took a trip over to one of my favourite places, Gloucester. In leafy genteel Cheltenham it’s considered by some to be the ‘dark side of the moon’ despite being only 8 miles away. These genteel folk think it’s full of footpads and rogues. The difference between the two places is quite marked, but Gloucester has shedloads more history. Gloucester’s City Centre has some of the worst housing in the area and is high on the ‘deprived’ list whereas … Continue reading William Shakesfear

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The Coalman

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This is from a series of essays if you are to give it a posh description, about people who no longer exist, or are endangered in some way. I contributed to a book some years ago with my late good friend Gordon, who wrote most of the words. I republished the book on Amazon about a year ago and renamed it “Spotted!”, which I thought was a good idea. I’d like to say I’ve been overwhelmed with Amazon sales since, but that’s not the case, more like underwhelmed. This is one of about four additional people that I was going … Continue reading The Coalman

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Biltong and Bolton.

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I like cooking, I like eating. I read recipes, often not often enough. My late mother in law was a great cook, putting huge effort to cook the simplest soup and doing her version of following a recipe. I often helped her and always asked if she was following a recipe, the answer was usually “ Yes of course” , then a pause and referring to one ingredient she would say: “ they say add: ( put in any random item here that would be necessary ) , and I thought that can’t be right” This regular omission of a … Continue reading Biltong and Bolton.

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“Drove like a bar of soap”

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I suppose if one is used to driving a Porsche anything else might be a tad ordinaries, as the French would have it. I have a theory about holidays, they are there so that you can tell everyone chez vous , what a dreadful time you have had. Not disastrous but not great all the time which is what they are meant to be. So dreadful might be a little strong. “Eventful” sounds like you spent it going to non stop fairs and knees ups. Let’s give up on its description for a while. I used to be first rate … Continue reading “Drove like a bar of soap”

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‘Destiny‘s Child?’ Oh No!

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When I was the same age as my now visiting grandsons which is eight today, my brother and I, he just a little older than me, lived with our parents in a police house on the edge of Wigan in the then very industrial North West. My father had been promoted to sergeant and was transferred every time he got promotion, which was quite frequently. We’d come from a house in the country, modest enough but in a lovely location, to a semi detached place on the edge of some waste ground, a ‘garden’ of sorts was guarded by a … Continue reading ‘Destiny‘s Child?’ Oh No!