There he stands - or rather, rides - our St. George, spear braced, horse rearing, dragon writhing beneath (featured image below). It’s an image both timeless and terribly timely. Though centuries have passed since this tale was first illuminated in parchment or carved into stone, its symbolic force remains more urgent now than ever. For … Continue reading St. George, the Dragon, and the Colours We Raise
Category: Places
Bogs, Beatrix, and the Bleak Sublime: A Lake District Lament
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a man in possession of a holiday must be in want of a breakdown. And so, with great dramatic flair and the sort of overpacked boot that could clothe a minor Balkan militia, I’m off to the Lake District - a land where Wordsworth wandered lonely as a … Continue reading Bogs, Beatrix, and the Bleak Sublime: A Lake District Lament
Bluebird and the Abyss: On Donald Campbell and the Art of Vanishing
“All men dream: but not equally.” – T. E. Lawrence “The machine does not isolate man from the great problems of nature but plunges him more deeply into them.” – Antoine de Saint-Exupéry I’ve always been haunted by that final film clip: the blue hull slicing across Coniston like a bullet skimming a baptismal font, … Continue reading Bluebird and the Abyss: On Donald Campbell and the Art of Vanishing
On the Road – Jack Kerouac and the Cult of Going Absolutely Nowhere Very Fast
I’ve never had the constitution for jazz. It makes me feel like I’m trapped in a lift with a methed-up trumpet and no discernible plot. And yet, somewhere in the post-war fug of America’s caffeine-sweating adolescence, Jack Kerouac managed to convince a generation that the meaning of life could be found in bebop, Benzedrine, and … Continue reading On the Road – Jack Kerouac and the Cult of Going Absolutely Nowhere Very Fast
Mastro Titta: Pope’s Little Helper with a Big Sword
Giovanni Battista Bugatti - what a name, eh? It sounds like the kind of bloke you’d expect to sell you a fine bottle of chianti or offer unsolicited advice about your olive oil. But no - our man Bugatti wasn’t swirling wine or chasing goats in the hills. He was the official executioner for the … Continue reading Mastro Titta: Pope’s Little Helper with a Big Sword
Wording 