Last night, my friend Alison came round (speaking figuratively – she was not actually unconscious). It was good to see her again. She wanted to go into the Minster to take pictures of some dead people, so I used the opportunity to take a bunch of pictures of the organ, the building – and a couple of dead people. I have posted the results in a new gallery called, inventively “Wimborne Minster”.
I know that some of the photographs are a bit fuzzy, especially if you click on ‘view full-size image’; however, I am still experimenting with the settings on my camera. In any case, it is not that easy trying to take pictures balanced on the top of a slightly dodgy pair of step-ladders. I wish my boss would return the pair he borrowed – they were loads better. Oh well….
Now that you see what an interesting life I lead, I expect that you will want to rush eagerly to my photo albums and check-out the latest shots. There is also a private album (when it actually appears), but wait, all you ladies out there! There is nothing remotely exciting in this album – just a few ducks, shots of my house, etc. I don’t get my kit off (thank God) or include photographs of last Friday’s cabaret night in the White Hart, in which a troupe of naked, clog-dancing sheep brought the house down. So you will in all probability be quite disappointed. That is, of course, unless you have a bit of a thing for ducks….
Today I am going house-hunting. So far I have not really seen anything which I like. I saw one place last week which was fairly gross – it stank of fags (that’s cigarettes to our American friends) and dog – which was in the garden shed, trying to eat its way through the door, which was a little unnerving – until I saw the dog. It was a boxer; you know, one of those dogs which looks as if it chases parked cars – BIFF! Dopey and over-affectionate. I suppose it could lick a burglar to death. Actually, it did have its sinister side. At one point, it looked at me with an expression which clearly said “God, you’re hot! If you don’t let me out RIGHT NOW I’m going to hump your leg!” Well, that is what I took it to mean.
Declining the invitation to hook-up with a randy but sexually confused dog, I continued my tour of the house. The bathroom was frankly squalid. Why do people paint wall tiles? They just look crap. There were no other surprises, until I came to the son’s room. He was obviously either a cadet, actually in the army – or had a serious problem and was possibly wanted by the law-enforcement agencies of four countries. The room was festooned with guns, photographs of guns, books about guns and materials with which to clean guns. At least it could not be said that the room lacked a theme – or definition of purpose.
After a cursory look around the remaining rooms, I decided that I just did not wish to live in an eight-room dog-kennel, so I beat a hasty retreat and went home and changed my jeans – just in case.
I am hoping that if I get to look at any houses today, they will be blissfully free from overheated dogs and rooms which look like an interrogation cell in the basement of the Lubyanka Prison. Perhaps if I am really lucky, I will find a nice house, with a nice garden – and no paramilitary memorabilia.
Tomorrow sounds as if it might be OK. I have been invited out to see some of the exhibitions which are part of ‘Dorset Arts Week’. (Actually, one banner reads ‘Dorset Art Weeks’, but since it finishes at the week-end, I suspect that this one was incorrect.) We will be heading off to Sherborne, so I might pay a visit to the Abbey and see if I can acquire some photographs of the county’s most rebuilt organ for my website. If I am successful, you will be the first to know.
Right now, I am feeling a bit left-out, so I am off to purchase a combat jacket and a Kalashnikov.