Exactly two years ago, staying with Team Catalonia, I took myself off to Parc del Labirint d’Horta in the outskirts of Barcelona, and wrote about it here. I remember a balmy day, even though it was November, with tree-lined avenues casting shadows before me as I walked.
Oh, and there was a maze too. But I wrote about it in that post I’ve just mentioned.
PS. I’ve just had a birthday card from WordPress. I’ve been blogging for sixteen years! Apparently. Thanks to all of you who’ve been ‘blogging pals’ for much of that time. You’re the ones who make it all such fun.
I love a ghost sign. Advertising from way-back-when that simply took the form of the product’s name painted on the wall of a house or shop. Faded now, they’re a reminder of simpler times, and are merely a shadow of their former selves.
Non-Brits may not know that Courage is a British beer. This sign I spotted yesterday near Borough Market was sited near where the brewery began in 1787, founded by one – John Courage.
On Thursday I walked the Thames Path from Woolwich via the Thames Barrier and the Millennium Dome to Cutty Sark in Greenwich. A story for another day. Today I’ll just show a view across the Thames, as enjoyed by two picnickers on a bench in the gentle shadow of the buildings near the Dome, especially selected for Jude’s Bench Challenge, and Becky’s NovemberShadows.
P.S. Despite having a post prepared, being in London discombobulated my Inner Timetable, and I neglected to publish Friday’s Footnotes in History. You’ll have to wait till next week to read about some fashionable, powerful nuns.
Woolwich, which these days comes over as Greenwich’s poor relation, was a critically important military base in the 18th and 19th centuries, serving as the centre for the British government’s armaments manufacturing and the headquarters for the Royal Artillery and Royal Engineers. It housed the Royal Arsenal. It had barracks. It had a military academy. It was a garrison town. No wonder then that it feared being attacked. There were cannons at the ready, as it often felt under the shadow of war. Above, you can see one still poised for a prompt response, on the banks of the Thames.
And below, here is your intrepid reporter, camera at the ready, to record any possible action.
This week, it’s my turn to host Leanne’s Monochrome Madness. I decided on Clocks and Timepieces. Easy, I thought. Well, up to a point. There are plenty of clocks in towns, in stations, on churches and on public buildings. But too often they’re bit samey-samey. So I’m starting with one that we came upon by chance on our last day in Alsace, in Munster’s Catholic Church. It’s a modern Horloge de la Création, installed at the behest of André Voegele from Strasbourg, who has made it his ambition to install unusual timepieces. This one is interesting alright. It tells the time: hour by hour, minute by minute. But it also counts the years down, month by month; the days of the week; and the phases of the moon. It’s topped by a splendid cockerel, whom I chopped off a bit in my header photo. So here he is. I’m sure he’s a reliable alarm clock. Cocks usually are.
As to the rest. I have an indifferent photo of a clock that hasn’t functioned since 2007 – the Swiss Glockenspiel Clock in London; a clock outside St. Pancras Station; one from a station waiting room in Keighley; an intriguing one spotted outside an apartment block in Barcelona; the centrepiece of Thirsk’s Market Square; and a clock which is not a clock, but helps to govern the workings of the one high up outside Masham’s Parish Church. Now. Can you tell which is which?
And finally. A clock which is a shadow of its former self. This alarm clock sat in a hedge on a country road which I often passed during Daily Exercise in Lockdown. It stayed there for months after Normal Sevice had been resumed. It was always 8 o’clock. Then one day it disappeared. Life has not been the same since. I offer it to Becky for NovemberShadows.
The lonely alarm clock of Musterfield. Tells the correct time twice daily, but the alarm never rings.
From Pyrenees to Pennines 
You must be logged in to post a comment.