A couple of years ago I imposed upon myself the obligation of making a new post to Other Men's Flowers every second day. I have not found this difficult to fulfil, my writing being untrammelled by considerations of accuracy, originality or taste. That’s the advantage of maintaining an obscure personal blog with no reputation for quality to keep up, or fastidious readers to satisfy: when inspiration flags, I can shovel in any old codswallop and no-one will complain or even notice.
In recent days absolutely no new subjects for calumny or mockery have come to light: there have been no idiotic new initiatives from the government, no new pronouncementations from Dubya, no new evidence of our moral degeneracy or the squalor of our politics.
Anyway, I am in no mood for my usual poking around in the midden of our public life, or the media, or the celebrity world, for little bits of discreditable information on which to make snide comments, for today the sun is shining, the hounds of spring are on winter’s traces, and, unless I have been misinformed, a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove.
So here is a nice unseasonal picture:
In recent days absolutely no new subjects for calumny or mockery have come to light: there have been no idiotic new initiatives from the government, no new pronouncementations from Dubya, no new evidence of our moral degeneracy or the squalor of our politics.
Anyway, I am in no mood for my usual poking around in the midden of our public life, or the media, or the celebrity world, for little bits of discreditable information on which to make snide comments, for today the sun is shining, the hounds of spring are on winter’s traces, and, unless I have been misinformed, a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove.
So here is a nice unseasonal picture:
Pieter Bruegel I (c1525-1569): Hunters in the Snow 1565 (Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum)
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