cameraphone photodump with captions

Twelfth Night, the original double role natak. This was a merry monday evening of Shakespeare in the open air theatre in the middle of Regent's Park. I drank G and T from a can, which, i have decided is rather crude and quite unnecessary. I will be refraining from canned alcohol from now on, unless of course they come up with W&S at M&S.

my camping trip to a music festival in gloucestershire had its indescribably beautiful moments. the photos don't really capture it either. there was lots of open sky, sweet smelling hay, strains of music from a mongolian tent in a natural hollow in the landscape, and lots of cloud watching.

This is what a 'boutique' music festival looks like. things on offer ranged from house, indie and acoustic jazz, to super-expensive cumberland sausages, squashy purple bean bags, grass (!) and yes - aromatherapy and organic smoothies. what can you do...

There was a hollywood theme party on the saturday night. anne and i went along as b grade wannabe stars. but the british take their fancy dress very seriously! my theory is that their properly repressed party souls find vent in these made up expressions.. for a moment, an evening, they can be someone else, and let it all hang out. no, mean jokes about love handles in this picture will not be tolerated...

One of our Irish co-stewards looked like a leprechaun, while another, english one resembled Lola from Run Lola Run, but when she was Matt Damon's girlfriend in Bourne Identity. The scene, as you can see, was very grungey throughout.

Mornings were like this.

Evenings were like this.

It looked like this when we got there.

It looked like this when we were leaving. Our festival.

This is a picture of one corner in the Leake Street tunnel embellished by Banksy and many lesser graffiti artists recently in a 3 day art fest. This piece is exactly how I felt about the idea of a subversive art form being commissioned by City Designers. Yet I tout graffiti as a consultation tool almost every day - cuteifying the hoodie. so we are all frauds. And no one is special because everyone is. (Not my line; this one's from 'The Incredibles') Anne and I went here the day I dropped Pa off at the airport. I am clever, I fill up my days.

During the last riverside walk of the daddy-visit, we found this abandoned couch in a strange corner, looking out at the river through a steel barrier. Some sort of convoluted statement on public space - I'm trying to work out what.

The atrium of the Imperial War Museum near North Lambeth station offers the daddy much joy because airplanes hang there, while the daughter revels in cool cool photo ops.

Prince Charles pier at Dover offers the Daddy views of several merchant, military and civilian vessels, while the daughter revels in cool cool photo ops in a little greasy chippie.

Portsmouth Harbour offers the daddy old sailing ships while the daughter... you get the picture.

Looking South from Blackwall DLR station. I've taken this picture a million times from this phone and standing at this very point, but this time, Pa wanted it. He thinks the Docklands are cool. Alrighty then.

This is Khushi, one of the sources of Priyanca's domestic bliss. Her hindi name means happiness, but her breed has an utterly unpronounceable french name. We'll stick with khushi then, which is the name of this picture, taken in a field behind Khushi's house, where Mayors and minions alike walk their dogs and avoid dogpiles. I had a very pleasant sleepover in suburbia the weekend before Pa showed up. I thought I needed some reminding / training in family manners, and also picked up things like dal paratha from a desi convenience store in zone 27. It was also very good fun.