Satire. Any resemblance to you is entirely down to your sense of self importance.

Sunday, August 25, 2019

Carnival 2019

A beautiful dawn.
6.00 am. The streets are quiet save the guys setting up sound systems and stalls and the the high vizzed police already patrolling the streets. There seems to be more of them than previous years but maybe that is my imagination.

 

Screening arches

Considerate grafitti. 


Guardians of the urinal.


Chillin'

Thursday, August 22, 2019

Mangrove steel band rehearsal All Saints Road. Carnival 2019


Setting up for tomorrow night in All Saints Road. For me and many others the best part of carnival. A pre-party party.

Saturday, August 17, 2019

Defying medical science with a trombone.

Ten years ago, when I first became ill with lung disease, I lay on a hospital bed irrigated and oxidised by tubes, fussy nurses drawing blood and being fed miserable things.
A doctor sat, tears in his eyes, at the foot of the bed and informed me that I would never play the trombone again.

I am not one to take this kind of thing lying down and within weeks I started the process of proving him wrong and now, ten years later I am able to share this photograph with you:


I am about to go on stage to perform John Cage's 4'33.




How wrong was that doctor.

Monday, August 5, 2019

The Bishop admits to his domestic habits.


Once the subject of egg quality had been exhausted.

Bishop: I enjoy nothing more of an evening than mulling over my sermons whilst washing the dishes but often find that the maid has beaten me to it.

William Spooner: Your wishes dashed so to speak.

Bishop: I often imagine that one day there will be a machine invented for wish dashing. One would just fill it up then sit back in dissapointment. Of course I would still have the fine crystal and Wedgewood.

Spooner: Ah yes, Wedgewood, there are no two ways about that.

With apologies to Gerald Du Maurier.