Worth the spit and polish, I hope you agree!
I will be spending the next days and weeks adding tags to the best of my posts so the site should be much more pleasant to navigate. Sadly, it is not republishing completely intact, so you’ll probably find a few old ugly pages left in the mix. If you do – send me an e-mail or leave a comment on that page.
Enjoy!
On my way back to London …
Top deck
Reflections of the underground
Had a wee trip into town today to glance at the shops and spend some time with the girls. Grabbed some candid shots, as they simply wouldn’t stand still!
ZOOM ZOOM
Ele, wrapped up warm
And a lovely day spent visiting Grandpa near Leicester. Oh it’s so good to see him, and he always manages to tickle me with his wit, emerging as if from nowhere. Sadly, I never remember any of his gags, but we spend most of our time rolling around laughing at and with eachother.
We even had a development of our ‘French Kiss’, which somehow morphed into including a comment about Nanny’s tongue – don’t worry.. you needed to be there. A Biddle family classic moment.
More wine for Grandpa!
The Biddle Family
I LOVE THE TATE MODERN.
Every time I go it just manages to blow me away with its scale and scope, and yet with its openness and refreshing lack of hautiness so common in modern art galleries.
I love seeing the tourists’ faces when they come upon the Turbine Hall. No doubt, they have been dragging their families from tour to museum to exhibition and you can imaging the kids whinging that they would really rather be having a Happy Meal thankyou very much. But that is all forgotten, and as the American art students studiously take notes, Grannies strain their necks and bepolonecked German art critics reflect, a dozen kids whizz around the exhibition imagining they are space fighters. This has happened three times in as many years (before with Anish Kapoor and Rachel Whitbread), and it is a credit to the curators that they can draw in such disperate groups.
This time though. This time. Wow. Never have I been challenged with such a physical, kinetic assault that at the same time piqued my engineering, art and whizz bang kiddo sensibilities. Forget all that – I WANT TO GO AGAIN!
For Carsten Höller, the experience of sliding is best summed up in a phrase by the French writer Roger Caillois as a ‘voluptuous panic upon an otherwise lucid mind’. The slides are impressive sculptures in their own right, and you don’t have to hurtle down them to appreciate this artwork. What interests Höller, however, is both the visual spectacle of watching people sliding and the ‘inner spectacle’ experienced by the sliders themselves, the state of simultaneous delight and anxiety that you enter as you descend.
One thing I love – it’s free entry and the dryest route between the South Bank and the St. ‘Blade of Light’ Pauls Bridge … take 2 minutes or 2 days, as you please
LEVEL 5
It is quite popular – the image of kids egging their Mums on to the slide, and then the shrill scream of fear and joy as they hurtle down the tube was very amusing … almost as amusing was to sit near the bottom and watch people land, their faces lit up, before they allowed themselves to compose themselves once more as they walk away.
New Year’s Eve 2006/07 became probably the most memorable, unusual and special one on record – against odds stacked against us by a well-timed Scottish typhoon.
Princes Street was shut, and against a back-drop of cold, confused tourists, drunk revellers and whispered reports of people being hit by flying Portaloos our team gathered in the warmth of a very characterful Scottish bar. We were certainly ready to dig in for the night, but with a couple of hours to go my old flat-mate Jenny called us up and said they needed people for some bash the BBC was laying on, now the scenes of the street party had to be cancelled.
News that there was going to be free alcohol meant the decision was already an easy one for us. However, this was not going to be your common or garden Hogmanay party, but the party at the very centre of Scotland’s celebrations at Edinburgh Castle.
Our party had soldiers guarding the gates. Our party had swords and battle scenes painted on the walls. And our party combined free Champagne with national Television coverage. The magnificent seven were at the very beating heart of Scottish culture – in the front row of the crowd for the annual Hogmanay festivities. I doubt there is any point ever celebrating in Edinburgh ever again, because we have done it now. It cannot be improved or embelished in any way – next year should certainly be spent down some local pub instead.
Princes Street revellers
Umbrella graveyard
Team Hogmanay Ho! (Check the BBC wrist band bling $$)
How many megapixels has yours got?
Could this be the midnight canon?!
Jenny – the star of the night! – THANKS!
Becca gets blurry in the bar after(math)
Smooth criminal
Whoaaaaaaa!
Update:
Craig’s family have seen us. His Gran punched record as soon as he saw his face. And his uncle saw us on TV while on a boat. In Sydney Harbour. In Australia.
!!!
Much of my family lives in South Wales, and we made the journey over to see the Morgan clan and spend some time with my Grandmother. It was a really marvellous day – especially seeing baby Cerys. Gareth and Catherine have done a marvellous job so far, so you’ll have to forgive me for the following gratuitous baby shots!
Weeee!!!
Dad looks content
“The cross shaped hole!”
Ello kid
Mum laughs with the ladies in the way she knows best!
I want one of them!
Attack!
Pretty young things
With my family, it is often just best not to ask
Hi folks
I am in the process of upgrading my blog … should be worth it, but in the meantime we have some strange layout changes to contend with.
All good fun.
The Heresjonny Web Team
Dad and I pedalled out for our annual post-Boxing day ride. I have rarely ridden in such amazing light – the whole landscape bathed in rich sunlight as the air chilled your skin. Right up until the sun set at the top of the final descent.
Some pics:
Dad shreds the rad
Cruising down Long Dale in the Peak District
MUD
Orienteering
Dad and I in Youlgreave – the final descent was muddy to begin with, but I had to grin and bear it when I approached the gate at full speed, spraying mud and cow shit in all directions. When we reached the first pub a family came out and simply began laughing at us – rightly so.
I have had this vision in my head of drinking a G&T; in Honk Kong airport for the last week. And here I am. And it tastes just rather bloody wonderful!
Taiwan is encircled by an all-encompassing reality distortion field. Sometimes, this invisible force does untold things to my well being and sanity. And, sometimes this same unseen flux does amazing, delightful things…
I spent the last few days rather anxiously looking at my enormous bike case with the weighing scales lurking nearby and the pile of luggage I am expecting to take on board with me – comprising all my clothes, presents and electronic ephemera. Surely, surely, I was going to get slapped with some almighty overweight charge; 1100 NT per kilo, or about 18 quid.
After arriving a good few hours early, I sneakily put my extra hand luggage into a locker for an hour (cost 100NT / 1.60 GBP) and went over to the check-in desk, enquiring about an earlier flight. The lady clearly took a shine to me and was fascinated that I was carrying a bike in a suitcase. I manoeuvred with maximum enthusiasm through the standard catechism – “where am I from, what do I do, why do you have a bike, how long have you been in Taiwan, are you single etc.” – and was rather horrified to see I was a full 8 kilos overweight.
Keeping up the smiles and conversation, I watched with delight as she waved it onto the belt, only to promptly jam the x-ray machine with its massive girth. Maintaining eye contact at all points, I also managed to bag myself the early flight, which means I will have an extra hour of Gin and Tonics in Hong Kong airport – the one vision I have had for the past week of grind at work.
Roll on Christmas, and thanks be to the Reality Distortion Field of Taiwan!