Category Archives: photography

Dereliction of Duty…

*

…It was a day of surprises.

For the matter beneath his feet to commence shaking was a surprise because it had shown no prior predilection so to do and hence had come to be regarded as stable.

Given the ‘most stable’s’ new propensity, somewhat less of a surprise but still, unthinkable, his previously stable walls also began to shake.

The third surprise came hot on the heels of the other two.

As the usually reliable roof-tiles cascaded around his head, he realised that a shock-wave could be seen with the naked eye.

It was the last thing he saw.

*

Knockety knock…

 

*

“The door-knocker, Herr Doktor, is misnamed,” said Herbert, giving the door three resounding knocks with his knuckles, “…door-knockers, rap!”

He demonstrated his contention and the door-knocker rapped-out three sharp retorts in marked contrast to the previously administered knuckle-knocks.

“Anyway, there doesn’t appear to be anybody home,” concluded the Doctor.

“More’s the pity,” grinned Herbert eyeing the elaborately designed door-knocker with evident relish.

The two men turned to leave.

Just then the door opened and a long, leathery-tongue wrapped itself around the Doctor’s ankle and dragged him within.

Herbert walked on, his mind elsewhere, oblivious…

*

Sheer Fantasy…

golden-dawn

*

Ish-na-e-cha-ge, First-Born-Being, roamed among the Animal-Nations.

He understood their ways and their languages.

They beheld him in wonder and awe and could do nothing without his knowledge.

He pitched his tent in the centre of the land and no spot was impenetrable to his gaze.

Even so he longed for companionship.

From a splinter drawn from his Big-Toe he formed Little-Boy-Man and taught him everything he knew.

Eventually the time came for their parting.

“What shall I do without you?” pleaded Little-Boy-Man.

“If you get stuck,” replied First-Born-Being, “look to the end of the road where two trees meet.”

*

Spring…

the-silver-well-3*

…They do have something of the ‘other-world’ about them these places.

‘No un-authorised person beyond this point,’ said the sign.

‘But we are more authorised than anyone ever could be,’ said Wen.

It is difficult to disagree but then the village of Cerne Abbas is in itself quite otherworldly too.

I got exactly the same feel from it as when I first went to Glastonbury.

It felt like we had left England and gone abroad, perhaps to France…

‘Albion!’ smiles Wen, ‘the whole of these Blessed Isles used to feel like this…’

The Heart Of Albion

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