(Click to enlarge) I came across this curious figure in Dublin last year and had no sooner snapped it than the gentleman on the left appeared. He insisted I photograph him beside it. Not wanting to offend, I did so. This became his cue to ask me for money- so be warned! Nevertheless I was surprised, upon examining the picture later, to see that he appeared to bear more than a passing resemblance to the statue.
(Click to enlarge) Statue of Charles Stewart Parnell, Dublin. I seem to recall reading somewhere that James Joyce declared that many of the public statues of his native city appeared to be saying "In my day the dunghill was this high." There can be little doubt that this figure of the nineteenth century politician belongs to this particular genre.
(Click to enlarge) Standing in front of the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square is this rather curious depiction of King James II. He appears as a surprisingly convincing Roman military man- incongruously since he was to lose both the throne, being chased out during the so-called "Glorious Revolution" of 1688, and his subsequent attempt to recover it. He is remembered as our last Catholic monarch but it is less frequently recalled that the British colonists in North America named the formerly Dutch settlement of New Amsterdam after him (he had been Duke of York). Here ironies abound because the treacherous Parliament invited the Protestant Dutchman, William of Orange, to invade, offering him the crown. James's error lay in failing to recognise that England had long been ruled by a conspiracy of rich men in whose interest the king was expected to rule.
(click to enlarge)On a recent visit to London I observed this mysterious monument in Whitehall. It appears that these poor souls were either vapourised or were in some other way mysteriously parted from their clothing. Next time I go there I shall attempt to find the missing bodies.
(click to enlarge) In a somer seson, whan softe was the sonne,
I shoop me into shroudes as I a sheep were,
In habite as an heremite unholy of werkes
Wente wide in this world wondres to here.
Ac on a May morwenynge on Malverne hill
Me bifel a ferly, of Fairye me thoghte.
I was wery forwandred and wente me to reste
Under a brood bank by a bourne syde;
And as I lay and lenede and loked on the watres,
I slombred into a slepyng, it sweyed so murye.
Thanne gan I meten a merveillous swevene --
That I was in a wildernesse, wiste I nevere where.
A[c] as I biheeld into the eest an heigh to the sonne,
I seigh a tour on a toft trieliche ymaked,
A deep dale bynethe, a dongeon therinne,
With depe diches and derke and dredfulle of sighte.
A fair feeld ful of folk fond I ther bitwene --
Of alle manere of men, the meene and the riche,
Werchynge and wandrynge as the world asketh.
Somme putten hem to the plough, pleiden ful selde,
In settynge and sowynge swonken ful harde,
And wonnen that thise wastours with glotonye destruyeth.
Piers Plowman
(Click to enlarge)The historic home of the Earls of Coventry, the house designed by Robert Adam and grounds by Lancelot "Capability" Brown, was home to a special school run by nuns between the late 1940s and 1970s. Subsequent owners included a Hare Krishna group. Now being cared for by the National Trust, it had only recently been opened to the public, following restoration, when we visited on 23rd October.
