London

Leicester, again.

Leceister, three hours north of London, and where my mother originates from, had the best street art I discovered on my travels.

I particularly enjoyed the juxtapositional elements of serene parkland and meadow, fragments of industrial past, and graffiti... Life is complicated.

Again, I've forgotten the name of this path - it has a name. But it runs along an old canal and disused railway from Blaby (the next biggest village outside of Leicester) to central Leicester (the town).

It was a pretty warm day by English standards and I was desperate for a beer. So I bought a bottle of Stella while I was in town and realised on my walk back that I didn't have a bottle opener. I tried hacking the top off at the steel bridge (where I took a shot of the canal through the cobweb) and tried in vain.

I carried that bottle of Stella around for a month afterwards. I drank it on my last night in London.

Arthur Rackham (1867 - 1939)

Plate 3 from The Ring of Nibelung

Alice, the Mock Turtle and the Gryphon

One of my secret passions is for children's literature. Not so secret anymore.

The illustration for Wagner's The Ring of Nibelung (I assuming the libretto), first above, brings to mind Waterhouse's nymphs - a much more romanticized depiction of these Nordic Valkyries - and Hokusai's Great Wave off the Coast of Kanagawa.

I wish I'd have had it read to me when I was little.

It's the ultimate Norse saga of a man named Sigurd who, after winning the ring of Andvarinaut by slaying its dragon guardian, is cursed and doomed by it. He falls in love with a Valkyrie called Brunhild, but is bewitched to marry another woman - Gudrun. Brunhild encourages, vengefully, the envy of some guys called the Nibelung Brothers which drives them to murder Sigurd for his gold.

It all ends rather tragically.

York

I perhaps should have premised beforehand that, unless stated otherwise, all these travel shots were taken on my meagre, but handy, mobile phone camera. Hardly Leica quality, but some travel shots nonetheless.

My Uncle Mick and Aunty Linda drove me up to the county of York to meet my Uncle Tom, who lives in the delightfully named village of Thorpe Willioughby. Our afternoon was spent, however, wandering around the city - or town if you prefer - of York. A place steeped in history, some of which is wonderfully respected and preserved. As you might spot, it's very touristy, but it's aesthetic/historic appeal makes up for it.

I wanted to go back to visit a book shop hidden within the Shambles.
Hidden is a strong word. Let's just say that I can't remember the name of the shop, so until I do it's kind of hidden unless one of the first shops on your left as you come away from the Minster is enough direction for you.

I was drawn inside by some deliciously smelly old leather bound books out the front, and a window displaying some Arthur Rackham prints.

I went to buy one Rackham print for my mum, one for Adele, and one for myself. Then my card declined. So I bought none.

I don't believe Rackham has anything particular to do with York, but his illustrations are pure pleasure to my eyes and imagination.

He's my next post.

A brief digression.

These shots are predominantly of the York Minster Cathedral, and the Shambles (which are a group of Tudor laneway shops, the structures of which are largely in their original conditon).

I hope you're into architecture.

Leicester, Blaby and Foxton Locks (UK)