Text and Image

I took this photo just over a year ago.

It had been an eventful Summer and restful moments in gardens in September were the order of the day.

This year my photos have a bit more bite. They could accompany texts on the subject of night walks in bright cities, sharp notes on architecture as found.

Really, what is language without the very picture of the world that makes us speak?

The Stories of the Street are Mine

Gradually, the joy of urban living is finding perspective in my heart.

It's Wiki-....d ....

It's all Greek to me...


Polyglossia was the norm years ago. I emerged from school a veritable Tower of Babel.
Ut linked to the subjunctive as day mergerged into night.
We lamented the end of the medieval forests in Irish as if there was no tomorrow, and as if
the destruction had only happened yesterday.


Nowadays everybody talk 'Strine or .html and I'm damned if I know what they're mumbling about.


The time worn story of how I took up blogging for fear I would part company with language forever
has been trotted out for the amusement, many times, of my non-blogging friends.

Most of the people in my generation do not blog. Many of them look at computers as one would greet
the appearance of a cannabilistic alpha male gorilla at a chic dinner party...
a force to be reckoned with and possibly one that will gobble up all the food, not to mention the guests.



Gare au gorille...





400 iso is ideal for taking photos on a
Dull Day.

The Protocol of Commenting on Blogs (Again)

A comment I posted on another Blogger site, congratulating the author on a new book, gave promise of success today. At last contact with a wider world was restored.

Not for long.

It was removed...

Tant pis pour Galway. Nul points.

Now I'm left wondering if the blogger in question had taken offence.
Shan't return to the scene of the crime to risk finding out.

Anways...

Off for an enjoyable dinner, with lashings of apples from the garden.

Tomorrow is another day.

(In the title bar a useful analysis of changes in book publishing house style. Could be of use when we all come to write our memoirs.)

See What the Boys in the Backroom Will Have

It's been a Poesque Summer.

A chance encounter on the Internet meant a sudden deviation from painting the bathroom and a vitual immersion in the world of Noir


Adrenelin rushes became less welcome as I aged. I had to stop reading detective novels in the 1980's because of the horrorshow that people who should have been in analysis inflicted on readers.

Entertainment, however, seems to be back in vogue.
Irish writers, in particular, have taken to playing with
the thriller genre and a recent gathering of gumshoe hacks in
Dublin seems set to start a trend.

As the world is suddenly about to become time rich again
I'm looking forward to a wealth of standout books
in the jaundiced urban mode.

Can't wait...