A Stroll by the Sea . . .

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Funny, having to post this again... looks like Blogger had a big bloblem, errrrr, problem. This was posted two days ago, and your wonderful comments disappeared as well. But I did see some of them, and I thank you for stopping in to this totally obscure little blog... Happy Friday 13th to all...
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While in Brittany at the end of April, one day it was so beautiful out that we had no choice but to set out walking along the shore. The welcoming committee quickly came to greet us ; we said, "How now, brown cow ?"
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Rocks of all shapes and sizes abound along the north Brittany coast ; sailors beware.
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A spirited conversation was taking place ; true illustration of hearing something straight from the horse's mouth.
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Castles by the sea . . .
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Slightly larger castle by the sea . . .
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The Lion King . . .

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When I was ten years old, my parents took my brothers and I along on six week trip to Europe. The influence of that trip could well have planted the seeds that led me to return to live in Europe for good. In exile. In love.
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The first stop of the trip was in London, after the adventure of flying for the first time across the Atlantic Ocean, on a Boeing 707, if my memory serves me correctly. We stayed in a hotel on Russell Square which figured in that famous early travel book : Europe On Five Dollars A Day. The British Museum was practically next door.
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So it was not without some considerable nostalgia that I went back to the British Museum in February. The Elgin Marbles from the Parthenon, and the Rosetta Stone of course are perhaps the "biggest" attractions there, but between them lies a long room dedicated to the bas relief lion hunt scenes from the Assyrian palace at Nineveh, in what today is the tragic land of Iraq. For me these sculptures are some of the saddest and most moving artwork I've ever come across anywhere. They date from over 600 years BC, during the realm of King Ashurbanipal, but already they foreshadowed the devastatingly arrogant vision of man regarding the natural world around him, which has grown to epic proportions today.
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The power of these images is such, when one beholds them in the reverent quiet of the museum in their raw, rich stone, that one could almost imagine warning signs posted at the entrance to the room, like the ones we sometimes see on internet news sites to the effect of : "Warning; the images that follow are graphic in nature, viewer discretion is advised", or "Danger, not for the faint of heart".
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When the last lion in the wild has been killed, we will at least still have these sculptures to help us remember the glory of such beasts, and the brutal stupidity of man, who would slaughter them for sport. Sculptures executed by an incredibly talented artist, or artists, who sadly remain anonymous to us today. How I would have loved to watch them at work over these large stone panels. One senses a strong degree of sympathy between the artist and the dying lions.
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Have you been to the British Museum ? If yes, did you stop for a moment in the lion king's realm ?
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The Heart of London . . .

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As you were studiously avoiding watching the royal wedding (wedding ? what wedding ?) last Friday, you may or may not have noticed the flight of three World War II era aircraft over Buckingham palace, in memory of the Battle of Britain.  I couldn't help but recall that while in London just a few weeks back there in February, I had come across a memorial monument to the Battle of Britain right in the heart of London, along the River Thames, near Westminster Abbey and the House of Parliament. There's lots more information and many more photos of the monument here. Also, in passing, an old, old friend from way back in grade school days just got in touch with me after years and years via that most efficient grapevine which is known as Facebook. He mentioned by e-mail after that first contact just the other day that he was interested in Royal Air Force and World War Two history . . . so Matthew, this one's for you ! I cannot imagine what a horror it must have been to have bombs raining down from above.
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