On a cheerful evening walk near my house.
On a cheerful evening walk near my house.
It sounds like some cruel future bloodsport, where mild-mannered painters in smocks and pince-nez are harried across open country by flying robots with machine guns. Sadly it is not that, because that would be awesome. Instead it is a web site me and my Mum made about my stepdad’s art:
I do not know why people bother with paintings though as it is a very time consuming process. I can see why cameras have caught on. Imagine if every time you went on holiday you had to lug an easel, brushes, oils, palette ekcetera and spend ages painting your mate’s smiling drunk face in a bar. The holiday would be over by the time you’d done the snapshots.
keithlard, ruthlessly weeding out inefficient activities.
It is photos of mine which have never been viewed on Flickr. So yours will be the first human eyes ever to see these stunning images, except mine obviously. And I am only taxonomically human. As usual click on the pictures to see bigger versions, and automatically donate money to the Keithlard Pie Fund.
No, not a scary Easter Island statue like you thought, but just a mad sculpture at Cornwall’s maddest shop, Trago Mills. It is like Bluewater for country folk, you can buy carpets, ironmongery and sheep dip under one unexpectedly castellated roof. I like going there and buying unusual and bonkers things, like elasticated lederhosen, or a miniature saxophone for weasels.
A weird house! In Lostwithiel, probably Cornwall’s most exciting small rainy town composed largely of antique shops. And that is up against some stiff competition.
They even have a sign! Don’t sound so pleased about it!
This is a nanshunt bridge in the heart of sleepy, antiques-obsessed Lostwithiel, and judging by the rusty sign, even single traffic is not exactly intensive. In fact when I tried to cross the bridge, the way was barred by an angry troll. I had to pacify it with some beef flavour Hula Hoops, which is annoying as I like them.
I know it is perfectly sensible really, but this is just the type of book which you only find at Trago. Or if you go to a horse library.
More of the world’s weirdest books, not available in any shops! Except Trago. I am a bit worried about the headless dog owner, I think it is just the power of optical illusion though.
This is in the sleepy and equally antiques obsessed village of Lerryn, you can see what kind of desperation the locals have got into for entertainmint. I do not approve of racing seagulls in fact as it is a form of abuse.
Hey hey! I am on holiday with Susan, and I am relaxing on the train while watching the Simpsons and composing my golden thoughts for Keith Lard’s Diary.
Picture of me taken by Susan!
It is amazing how quickly I have made the transition to smug Mac user. I am like Robert Webb out of those “Mac versus PC” adverts, only better looking obviously. The machine is just a joy to use and I have a sneaking suspicion it is smarter than I am. (It is. - Susan) I am worried that it might actually be editing my journal entries while I am distracted by crisps.
I have also become like a wi-fi vampire, roaming London to feed on the wireless internet of the living. Last night in the pub Matt and I were chatting away to Steve on Adium. It was like he was actually there, only in text form. I did not have to buy him any beer either as I just took a picture of a pint with the iSight camera and dragged it into the chat window. Cheap round!
So I am off to the miffic land of Cornwall, where romance and heroic legend mingle with delicious pasties. It is bad news for my weight loss campaign as in a week’s time I will actually look like a pasty. I think I am already starting to develop a knobbly ridge of crimped pastry down my spine.
The Landseer pub has an annual Music Festival, this looks all arty but in fact I think the camera went off before I was ready or something. Anyway by some miracle the text is in focus even though nothing else is.
Unfortunately-named shop at Cornish Market World. Near Par!
Some scary pointy gates that I walked past with k.s.
My friend Chris at the self-same festival. In fact he is in the Archway Guitar Quartet, tecknically. Except he plays mandolin, but it would make the name too long.
Flowers in the garden which look quite intresting in black and white.
Cornwall’s exclusive Whitsand Bay, near where my Mum lives. It would be nice if this was my view. They have a special extra large sky in Cornwall which you do not seem to get in other places.
I went to school in Fowey, and I suppose I was spoiled rotten, although it did not seem that way at the time as it was a toughish comprehensive that made Grange Hill look like Linbury Court. Still it is a lovely little town and nowadays is thriving with many intresting shops. It also welcomes free-spending barbarians.
Restricted zone. Fowey’s mediæval streets are even narrower and twistier than Mevagissey, and driving my enormous Audi around the old town felt rather like navigating a billion-ton oil tanker up the Norfolk Broads.
This is the King of Prussia where we used to go for a crafty pint or twelve, there is something nice about having a drink in a genuine olde-worlde pub in a fishing village and then being able to stumble out and fall straight off the edge of the quay into the river.
It is Daphne du Maurier country of course, and though she probably wrote a good many more books than she really ought to have, it is keeping local bookshops in business to this day. Intrestingly you can see Sally Beauman’s excellent Rebecca’s Tale in this picture, which is one of the few literary ‘sequels’ to actually be any good.
Unlike most people brought up in Cornwall, I am hopeless with boats ekcetera and do not know my aft from my elbow. It is a shame as I am in love with the romance of the sea, but get unromantically sick if I go anywhere near it. Except if it is one of those giant ferries where you can pretend it is just a big building full of drunk children and bad entertainers.
This is in Cornwall’s historic Fowey which I will show you more pictures in a bit. But here is some gulls that caught my intrest while I was wandering around with Jane.
Oxygen is importint as demonstrated in this little exhibit at Eden. It is connected to the Plant Machine you can see in a previous set of Eden pictures. When they do not get oxygen they all collapse. It is a valuable lesson there for any of us that did not realise you need oxygen to breathe.
A sinister old man I saw out of my window. I expect he is quite harmless really, but I just liked something about him. There is an eerie quality to the shot as well being taken through a double glazed window, and the harsh light lends an air of criminality.
On Caradon Hill in Cornwall, a cheerful rainbow over Minions and the old abandoned mine workings. It was fierce weather up there as detailed in Storm on Caradon. As David Brent pointed out, “‘If you want the rainbow, you’ve got to put up with the rain.’ You know who said that? Dolly Parton. And people say she’s just a big pair of tits.”
Jane and I were at Par Beach (more pictures to come) and there were some people messing around with a quad bike, so I intrusively took photos of them.
A kissing couple at Mevagissey harbour. I suppose it is a bit romantic but I like it when people hold hands and kiss in public. The only problem is I would like to take more photos of them, except in case they do not like it and beat me up. I am quite sensitive to being beaten up. You may call me a la-di-da Morrissey type, but I do not like it.