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Beautiful Britain November 1984



Ben

“OH GOD BEN” said my friend Ruth, this morning, at breakfast, “YOU’VE GONE AND TAKEN A CALENDAR PHOTO”.

It’s true. It was a ridiculously beautiful morning in Dorset and I woke up early to find a deep frost had gripped the still, autumnal valley. An hour or so later, we wandered down to the lake where a gentle mist was rising in front of the glowing copper golden trees.

JOKING. Okay, I admit, a little while ago I read a comment somewhere out there on the ‘nit which wondered if my blog was a spoof.  I liked that comment.  In fact, no, I loved it. Because, from time to time, um, yes.  Raspberry picking?  Dahlias?  Tulips?  Eugh.  Too much.   Hehehe.   Get over it, that’s just my fabulous life, dear reader…

So, we went for an early morning walk. Oh crikey. The mist was rising from the still water, and what the hell was that white blob? It was a lone, romantic swan. Yes, needless to say, here was a beautiful swan, in the mist, in benblogland.

You see what Ruth means by calendar shot?  You do.  Beautiful Britain Calendar, Autumn 1984. 

Well, we can of course mock ourselves from time to time, but it was pretty extraordinary.

I am kind of in love with mornings like this, even if they are a bit much.

Even, Ruth, if you’re right:

(Our new runaway bestseller in the Christmas shop…)

 

Meanwhile, for those of you who might have been amused by the most-commented-upon-ever-blog, from last week: I am a man of my word.

Good  bye, cluster. Hello, serious Piranesi engravings.

Randomly, I’ve got a few more Piranesis being framed by my friend Paul. They’ve been sitting in a drawer in the office for about two years now. A day before I read that now infamous website, Paul had come over to collect them all to frame in simple black frames. I’m not quite sure when they are going to be ready, but that is going to be the new vibe for the sitting room.  This is the future, and you saw it here first.  Secretly, I suspect, both David Hicks and David Milinaric would approve, and that is about as fuck-your-noguchi-coffee-table-proof as you can get.

Oh, and, goodbye, vintage postcard in empty frame. The vintage postcard can live here for a little while.  But probably not for very long.

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