Traves Tangents

On Saturday I fulfilled a long held ambition, and went on a trip to Reading Museum . Why Reading Museum you ask? I see the full sized replica of the Bayeux Tapestry . The story of how the replica came to be made is great fun:  https://www.readingmuseum.org.uk/history-britains-bayeux-tapestry , and is crying out for a film treatment of some kind... It has bustles, Victorian business acumen, and censorship (and Staffordshire accents which Isn't very Hollywood I guess). The chaps at the British Museum who supplied the photos to the lady embroiderers turned the horses into geldings, and gave various nude men little shorts. Unlike the the original, you have plenty of time to linger, and enjoy all the little details.... ...so many lovely little critters... ...and as a friend pointed out, one of the earliest depictions of mobile 'phone use :-) The museum also houses some nice Roman bits and pieces, included this lovely world, weary bronze eagle from Silchester. It's said to be t...

My lovely friend Christopher collected pigs of all kinds. When his husband asked if I’d like one to remember him by I choose this little chap. I used to annoy Christopher, by arranging his other pigs as if they were listening to him. I said that he was a political agitator, inciting them to sedition. Christopher would get quite cross, and tell me that he was reading them a bedtime story. Given there’s a little picture of a desert island, I think he must be reading ‘The Owl and the Pussycat’, and Christopher knew his pigs best of course. Love you so much Christopher 🐖❤️🐖

On Friday one of my dearest, naughtiest friends died. We had been planning to meet up in New York in April. Instead I’ve made my way to my second home, to Burgundy, to say goodbye. I have nothing new, or profound to say about death. I loved him, he loved me, we knew it, we said it, we lived it, I’m grateful.   

Unlike friends from Cymru, or Yorkshire, I don't feel a huge connection to the place of my birth, Kent.  However, on Boxing Day I had a run along the route, or an old, familiar childhood walk. Going far further than I meant to, enjoying the sight of familiar trees and fields. I was able to appreciate the quiet beauty of the place, the bricks and tile vernacular building style... ...and mourned the changes, so many orchard and hop fields gone. On my return to my parents' house, the house where I was born, I was greeted by roses still in bloom (as am I).  

 I was caught up with a lovely friend, and some lovely art this week. This painting, 'St Nicholas of Bari calming the storm', by Bicci di Lorenzo , is an absolute favourite. As I've said elsewhere, great art is to be experienced, savoured, so I'll just urge you to feast your eyes on St Nick zooming in like an exocet... ...his pristine gloves... ....the reasonably shaped mermaid, and the lowering, green sea. Thanks to my friend the Rector, I like to keep an eye out for St Catherine , here's a rather pensive one by Vittore Crivelli . Here is a cross St Lucy ( Andrea di Bartolo Cini ). I recently found out that she was supposedly killed by a sword thrust to throat, and is invoked against throat infections as a consequence, which seems to be adding insult to injury, if you ask me. This little foot of the infant Christ ( Tino di Camaino ) caught at my heart...although I think that pelican should be confiscated. On the subject of feet, had Jacopo Sansovino (or anyone fr...

Yesterday I had the enormous privilege of a visit to the old library at St John's College , Oxford.   As readers of the late, great Terry Pratchett will know, books have to be chained up to keep readers safe.... ...dangerous things books. Chained books had to shelved with the spine facing away, so the shelf mark had to be written on the leaves of the book. A rod would have been passed through the ring on the end of the chain.... ...and then secured in this gap between the desk and the bookshelf.  

A wonderful defence of mince pies...  ...and pleasure, to be found in St John's library .