The sublime to the ridiculous

Back in sunny London – hurrah and huzzah! I have had a million things to sort out, hence my absence from the blogosphere, but I’m Baaaack. I am appalled at the way people have been taking liberties while I’ve been distracted. Rich people have been indulging their usual taste-deficient ways, they really need to be stopped. From Mr Green’s taste-free mega-yacht to art auctions, the world is going to hell in a handbasket. Exhibit A- the bed in the above pictiure. For the girl ( I hope!) whose parents have everything but taste. Exhibit B- The Jeff Koons sculpture. Now, I have my issues with some modern art but I like these sculptures, they make me smile. However, less funny or perhaps even funnier, depending on how you look at it, is that the above sculpture recently sold for $59 million. I am constantly amazed by what people would rather have than cash. 59,000,000 smackeroos. You need to imagine paying for it in $20 bills and you see how insane it is. You hand over a container-load of $20 bills and then leave with that sculpture under your arm. It’s the best Dadaist joke that never was. When you imagine how many clinics you could build in the developing world for that money, or how many children you could educate, it doesn’t seem all that funny after all. God shows what He thinks of money through the people He chooses to give it to (says the penniless, bitter entrepeneur 🙂 )

Here on the other hand are some beautiful items made by talented designers, all exhibited in the most recent design shows.

I was having a whinge-fest about places I’ve lived in with some friends. One is a newly-arrived expat from Kenya. She’s refusing to believe winter will arrive, having seen what passes for summer in England. Total denial. ( Don’t even start me off about Egypt 🙂 Sorry, couldn’t resist). Anyway, it reminded me of one of my favourite poems. Dear angry Orcadians, please don’t write in. I’m sure the Orkneys is now chock-a-block with pulled pork and avocados and 64 genders, just like the rest of the world. More fool you! Y’all have a lovely week now.

Bloody Orkney (Captain Hamish Blair)

This bloody town’s a bloody cuss
No bloody trains, no bloody bus,
And no one cares for bloody us
In bloody Orkney.

The bloody roads are bloody bad,
The bloody folks are bloody mad,
They’d make the brightest bloody sad,
In bloody Orkney.

All bloody clouds, and bloody rains,
No bloody kerbs, no bloody drains,
The Council’s got no bloody brains,
In bloody Orkney.

Everything’s so bloody dear,
A bloody bob, for bloody beer,
And is it good? – no bloody fear,
In bloody Orkney.

The bloody ‘flicks’ are bloody old,
The bloody seats are bloody cold,
You can’t get in for bloody gold
In bloody Orkney.

The bloody dances make you smile,
The bloody band is bloody vile,
It only cramps your bloody style,
In bloody Orkney.

No bloody sport, no bloody games,
No bloody fun, the bloody dames
Won’t even give their bloody names
In bloody Orkney.

Best bloody place is bloody bed,
With bloody ice on bloody head,
You might as well be bloody dead,
In bloody Orkney

Save

Save

Save

Save

Save