This week’s photograph is one for posterity. Before it disappears into the wide blue yonder, here’s a picture of Boris’s Cock in London’s Trafalgar Square.

Boris’s Cock
London; June 2014
Another in my occasional series documenting some of the underbelly of Britain. Britain which we wouldn’t like visitors to see and which we wish wasn’t there. The trash, abused, decaying, destitute and otherwise buggered parts of our environment. Those parts which symbolise the current economic malaise; parts which, were the country flourishing, wouldn’t be there, would be better cared for, or made less inconvenient.
These two decrepit looking semis were spotted somewhere in Stanmore, NW London.

This week another from the archives. This is a montage of individual shots of the ten Queen’s Beasts statues outside the Palm House at Kew Gardens. They’re magnificent statues some 6 feet tall.
In fact these are replicas in Portland stone (commissioned in 1958 by Sir Henry Ross, then Chairman of the Distillers Company) of the original plaster versions. The originals were commissioned by the British Ministry of Works from sculptor James Woodford to stand in front of the temporary western annexe to Westminster Abbey for the Queen’s coronation in 1953. The originals are now in Canada.

This panoramic view shows the King’s Men stone circle which is a part of the Rollright Stones complex in Oxfordshire.
The photo was taken on our recent trip round the villages around Chipping Norton in search of ancestors. It was a glorious sunny early May day (with just a quick shower while we were having lunch in the pub at Broadway); England at its best.

It is scary to realise that I took this week’s photograph eight years ago. It is a composite of at least half a dozen frames — well we didn’t get such good wide-angle lenses on cameras then! As the eagle-eyed will realise this is Paris. We were sitting having lunch with a friend outside her favourite bistro in Place Dauphine, a quiet square at the western end of Ile de la Cité, on a warm Friday in May. This was real non-touristy Paris, even down to the handful of Parisian corporation workers playing boules in the square.

In this week’s photographs we bring you the world of Beatrix Potter …
We were in the village of East Carleton, just outside Norwich, the other day visiting my mother. Driving slowly through the village we came across Jemima Puddleduck with eleven quite well grown ducklings meandering slowly along the verge. We stopped the car and I took their portraits from the passenger seat.
Mother looked like a Aylesbury-Mallard cross; white like an Aylesbury but only Mallard size. There were four white and seven “tabby” ducklings. The ducklings were quite fearless, and once we stopped the car they were happy nosing around just inches from the wheels — until mother called them to come away. All the while they were making little chirping noises at each other and clearly enjoying the lovely wet day.
Here’s Jemima Puddleduck herself …


