Tag Archives: buildings

Backwards across Wiltshire


Yesterday began with being towed backwards across Wiltshire.  Then some intensive looking.

Best seen across a vacant lot:

The fullness required many hours, which we were unable to give.

There was something appropriate about the power socket handy for St. Barbara.  In case her father needed it?

Finding Dewi Sant was like meeting an old friend…

It was a mistake to take an audio book.  The tunnels must be the noisiest on the network:  growl, roar, whistle and rattle in one excruciating go.

And there we were again: being towed backwards across Wiltshire.




It isn’t a word really.  But a scrubulous weekend is what I had.

I returned to muggy days and sea mists

and scrubbed ten windows, three double sets of glass doors, and a conservatory.  Both sides.

The seagulls were eyeing up the gleaming panes, sniggering to themselves.  So it seemed a good idea to get in first.

I was a bit surprised by these lacy ones.

Now I am back in the attic nest with a lot of books about icons.




It seems unnatural:  sunshine on a bank holiday weekend.

Ne’er cast a clout …


… till May be out.  So I took my jacket and woolly hat …   (Click a thumbnail for gallery)

Locked up


The rivers are well up with the continuing rainy weather, and my attention paused as I crossed this rushing water.  It’s the first time I’ve seen one of these bridges with declarations by padlock all over them.  As a symbol of personal love, I could only find it depressing, and it didn’t do anything for the line of the footbridge either.

Elsewhere, I watched a fairly senior cleric hit a two feet tall chocolate egg with a claw hammer.  Hmm.

In pursuit


I am gradually becoming acquainted with Salisbury walls.  Here is one whose ugly rendering rests upon a base of properly-old bricks:

and another which includes properly-old bricks, and an unusual tiled apex.  Note to self: don’t walk under this one, especially in bad weather.

Time to retire to a quiet bay in pursuit of all the Judiths:

The pleasure of the day was some generous typography:



I’ve been walking past this one at intervals for twenty years, and never registered it before.  Perhaps because this time the gate was open, I suddenly noticed that it was indeed an old posting house, with the high entrance to accommodate the horses and vehicles, the cobbled stable yard still visible behind, and iron s-plates still holding it all together. The windows look enormously tall compared with the standard sized door below.  

One could scarcely call it preservation of a traditional building, more a case of survival through neglect.  Well, we can’t all live in cherished cathedral cities, I suppose.

The image


This was a curious thing to find in the sitting room:

Our unfortunate local spy did not visit this location (so far as anyone knows) and the cordon stops short at the front door.  I was thus able to proceed librarily towards the station.

Salisbury Museum is small but dense; I find something new on every visit.  This is the head of a 9th century aestel (reading pointer), and it shines.

The cathedral has glassed in and glassed out various small and large cavities in its structure.  One of them is big enough for the refectory; this morsel of space is by the loos.

It is about life size.  I failed to find a label, and my iconography is not good enough to pick up the hints.  Chalices and books, anyone?  Glass and anonymity isolated the figure like an anchorite walled up alive.