… and so it continues …

I really don’t know where the week has flown.  When I last posted, the Conservative Party here in the SUK (Still United Kingdom) was shaping up for a leadership contest that was due to last all summer, something that would have kept the journalists on autopilot as they speculated on the two candidates in the race.  It was shaping up to be the cattiest, bitchiest race in British political history.  

Then, at the weekend, one of the ladies, Andrea Leadsom, gave an interview to a journalist from The Times, something politicians tend to do from time to time.  She spoke candidly, something politicians do from time to time but which smart politicians rarely do.  She said that being a mother makes her a better choice for prime minister than Theresa May because it means that she has “a very real stake” in the future of Britain and that the Home Secretary must be “really sad” not to have children.  Well, well, well.  Talk about harakiri.  As Tom Lehrer put it in a song over half a century ago, having read “the juiciest, spiciest, raciest obituary it has ever been my pleasure to read … that of a lady named Alma Mahler Gropius Werfel, who had, in her lifetime, managed to acquire as lovers practically all of the top creative men in central Europe. And, among these lovers, who were listed in the obituary, by the way, which is what made it so interesting ….  There’s nothing quite like candidness!

It was reported that she received not nice communications from some of her erstwhile colleagues in the party and that Britain’s most notorious overnight mum had spent most of Sunday in tears, which more or less tells you all you need to know. By Monday noon, she had withdrawn her candidacy, and Mrs. May suddenly found herself, after just a single  speech as a candidate for the highest office in the land, in the job.  Two days later, she was there, on one knee curtsying before Elizabeth II, a nonagenarian who has already seen off 12 Prime Ministers in her 64 years on the job.  And isn’t it amazing to learn how far a person with a B.A. in Geography (albeit from Oxford) can actually go?  One should never lose hope.

Just so that we shouldn’t become bored with straightforward things like a change of Prime Minister (Israel still has a lot to learn from SUK), the Labour Party has decided to take centre stage and hold a leadership contest, too.  This looks like being much more fun than the show the Conservatives were planning to put on.  And keeping in the tradition of British faunal politicians (remember: the Conservatives had a Crab[be] and a Fox in the first round of voting — was it really only last week?— and the Scots have a Sturgeon and a Salmon[d]), first into the ring to challenge Jeremy Corbyn was none other than Angela, yes you’ve guessed, Eagle.  All we need now, I suppose is somebody called [Turn]Bull — isn’t he Australian? — or Katz to come along, and the farmyard will be complete.  

The unfortunate Ms. Eagle had a brick thrown through the window of her constituency office in Wallasey, near Liverpool, apparently by Corbynistas unhappy with her decision to express no confidence in Jelly’s leadership.  And here she is, in action, on learning about the appointment of Boris (there’s nothing quite like candidness) to the Foreign Office.  Subtlety, apparently, is not her forte!  www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-36793178

Barely able to tear myself away from TV and newspapers, so riveting the action, I’ve still managed to get out several times in the past week when the showers have ceased and that yellowish sphere in the sky reappears from time to time.

The weekend before last, we went to see the new David Hockney exhibition at the Royal Academy “82 Portraits and One Still Life”, in which he painted family and friends in the same chair, giving them the freedom to choose what they would like to wear and how they would like to sit — an absolutely enthralling show.  (The still life was painted when one of his subjects failed to arrive at the appointed time and the materials had been prepared.)  In the courtyard of Burlington House (home of the Royal Academy as well as the Geological Association and other learned societies) was something just as exciting, the installation by Ron Arad, a Tel Avivian and Royal Academician, entitled “Spyre”, a spire with a base and four arms that rotate and different speeds and angles so that it varies constantly.  I didn’t have a camera with me that day, so I returned the other morning to photograph it.  It really is fascinating.  As I was about to leave, I noticed that there was an explanatory notice near the entry point to the courtyard, where you learn that you’ve been caught on camera by the contraption and by being photographed you therefore waive all your rights to not being photographed!  Still it’s interesting.

AradArad 1

The following day, we were with the grandchildren and their parents on Hampstead Heath near Kenwood House whereupon I discovered that there’s a Henry Moore sculpture, Two Piece Reclining Figure No. 5 1963-64 on loan from the Tate.  Like all Henry Moores, you can sit and look at this for ever and ever and never be bored.

Henry Moore

While absorbing the curves and all, I heard a noise behind me and saw two cyclists travelling at some speed.  The young lady at the front had both hands on the handlebars.  However, her male companion seemed to be burdened with a large backpack, which, in all honesty didn’t seem to encumber him one little bit.

Double bass

And, as in Tel Aviv I photograph fire hydrants, in London I’m fascinated with post boxes.  The upper one is a double box from the reign of Edward VII, near Bond Street , sealed at the moment but still standing.  The lower picture is one that I thought I’d never get — from the 10 1/2 month reign of Edward VIII —  a.k.a. the Duke of Windsor — Edward Albert Christian George Andrew Patrick David (his parents were indecisive, it seems ).  He didn’t hang around long and there are fewer than 200 boxes with his seal of approval.  However, I found one between Brent Cross Shopping Centre and Hendon Central on Monday evening.

Ed VII DoubleEd VIII

On Wednesday, I was invited to join a walking tour of the Jewish presence in London’s East End.  While waiting for the others (in the wrong place, as it happens, but precisely where I had been told to wait), I managed to photograph a pair of London icons in a single frame.

Two London icons

Later in the day, strolling in and around Whitechapel Road, I was fascinated by the London immigrant scene.  Mrs. May wants to control immigration — from Europe?  Seems like there might be some others, too.

English cricketSchool uniform, EEnd 1Ramadan non-smokers

Walking around Piccadilly, Chinatown, Covent Garden, and the West End, photogenic opportunities forever present themselves.

Sex shop

It may very well be licensed, but it’s not in the “London for the Older Tourist” Guidebook, dearie.

The eyes have it

The eyes have it!

And then early in the morning, Primrose Hill beckons yet again.

St. Paul's and cranes 1Woman & Dog, Primrose

And just to complete the post more or less where I started it, let me end with the Jewish Priestly Blessing:

MAY the LORD bless you and guard you 

MAY the LORD make His face shed light upon you and be gracious unto you 

MAY the LORD lift up His face unto you and give you peace

Amen.

P.S.  A good friend has just pointed out that the past tense of “may” is “might”.  Be that as it may, it might also be the future!  Remember, Might is Right and to is Theresa and, as she’s proving today, no Mother Teresa she!

 

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One thought on “… and so it continues …

  1. mazaryahu says:

    The priestly blessing
    is a great idea.
    And to think the the past tense of may is might…

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