Category: Photos

This is one of three little glass lamps I bought in Delhi. One green, one amber and one indigo. I think of these lamps as Arabian, since they were for sale all across Dubai, but I suspect they’re common across the region. I love lamps and candles and so on, which is odd, because my usual choice of actual lighting is blinding. I hate not being able to see. I suppose I should say that I love the idea of lamps and candles – probably the dregs of my catholic upbringing coming out.

This is a black-faced dorper sheep, a particularly South African sheep, bred for the Karoo, mostly. I used to be a vegetarian, and one of the reasons I’m not any more is because in many parts of the world, the terrain is simply not suited to growing crops, and the only way to survive is to find the toughest, hardiest animals you can, and breed them for meat. This is the point of the dorper sheep – very little thrives in the karoo, and one cannot live on prickly pears alone (nice as they are).

Obviously, this is not an actual sheep. I bought her in Johannesburg, and as a piece of beadwork she wasn’t cheap, but I was so taken with her curly coat I had to have her.

I am really enjoying spring, I must say. It’s sunny, it’s slightly crisp, but not too cold, things are sprouting, birds are singing. Tomorrow I think I’m going to go to the canal to look for ducklings. I’m starting to understand all that English poetry about the wonders of spring in this country.

Believe it or not, it was a brilliantly clear morning when I took this. The foggy effect is the glare of the sun against the none-too-clean windows. I suppose I should consider washing them, but I think I can safely say I have never once washed the outside windows of a place I lived in. I’ve lived most of my adult life in flats, and washing the outsides of windows is very much the landlord’s job, as far as I’m concerned.

This little beastie is borage, I think, that Martin is sprouting on the windowsill. They’re all tiny, but such a delicate shade of green, and so cute, I couldn’t resist. It is the equinox, after all.

There’s something so English to me about red brick and rusty tools leaning up against a shed. This isn’t a shed – it’s a roofless enclosure behind the kitchen that collects crap. It has the remains of a floor and once had a roof and door and I suspect when the house was built it was the toilet. The kitchen and bathroom are clearly new extensions to the house, so this would have been the only plumbing around. I have a friend here, my age, who grew up in a house just down the road with no indoor plumbing. They used to visit her gran for baths. I find this amazing, to be honest.

No, it’s not upside down. This wallpaper is the reason I could never have Chinese friends or colleagues over to visit. Aside from being unbelievably tacky, yes, it’s upside down.

I really can’t imagine what the people who owned this house were thinking.

It was red nose day, when people are encouraged to do silly things to raise funds for charity. These guys were dressed up as Doctor Who and his Dalek and were apparently all over campus, and were interviewed by journalism students glad of a story (we are only half-joking when we tell students that if they can find a story in Preston they can find a story anywhere). I gave them money, but really, they couldn’t find a proper bow tie somewhere?

I don’t go out on St Patrick’s day as a rule, but it was my friend’s birthday, and we went for a drink after work. Apparently, Preston celebrates St Patrick’s day like everyone else, drunkenly, and in silly hats. The beer isn’t green, though, it’s Guiness, sold for a pittance. We left early, before it got too insane.

No, not China, but Plungington road. I assume this house is inhabited by Chinese students, maintaining the tradition of banners on the door for new year. It’s kind of sweet, but also sad – I realised when I saw it how homesick and lost the Chinese students must sometimes be – Preston is different to China.