Weapons of mass distraction: ballistics, beaches and badges

Regular readers (are there any regular readers?) may already be familiar with a archiving project that I worked on over the winter.

In 1986, The Royal Armouries carried out an excavation on the Thames foreshore in front of The Tower of London.


They were looking for evidence of the Armouries’ workshops, but information about this dig, or what they found, has never been commonly available to the public. This is the archive material that I and my fellow-volunteers were working on.


Last weekend Kathleen, the Curatorial Assistant who set up the project, and me and fellow-volunteer Guy took some of this archive material out and about as part of the annual Tower Open Foreshore weekend. This is one of the only opportunities for people to get down onto the foreshore at The Tower of London, and it’s very popular indeed.

In the 1930s, this section of foreshore was turned into a beach for the use of local children, complete with deckchairs, buckets and spades, rowing boats and all the entertainments you’d expect to find at a seaside resort.


The beach closed during the war, but it was very popular indeed during the 1950s and we occasionally meet visitors who can remember playing there as children. Gradual decline and concerns over pollution in the Thames, lead to the closure of the beach in 1971 and these days access is restricted to special open days.

So Guy, Kathleen and I joined other groups including Historic Royal Palaces, the City of London Archaeological Society (COLAS), Thames Discovery Programme (TDP) and Thames 21 to delight the summer masses on the embankment and the foreshore.

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(nb. these photos were taken first thing on Saturday, before the masses arrived, hence the lack of masses)

We had a selection of objects from the dig alongside a selection from the handling collection which visitors could handle, feel the weight of and generally get to grips with. These included pieces of flintlock mechanism (people loved the term ‘gun furniture’), bayonet tips, a pike head, some examples of shot including a small canonball.


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We also had a couple of special little pieces which you might have seen on the blog before:

This fragment of a Christ in Passion pilgrim badge


and this lovely medieval copper-alloy book clasp


It’s also traditional to have an activity. These are often aimed at children (although we all know that the adults like to join in too) but when setting this up, Kathleen had been trying to think of an Armouries-related children’s activity that didn’t involve arming small children and having them run amok. That sort of thing is rightly frowned upon.  Hmm.

During the dig, there were several examples of badges and insignia found; pilgrim badges, railway badges and buttons, Royal Armouries insignia and so on, so we invited our visitors to make a badge of their own, either drawing on Royal Armouries examples for inspiration, or designing their own.

Badge number 1 went to Guy…

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…who, true to form, chose to display his allegiance to the Gunners. How apt!


And he wasn’t the only one. Archaeologists just cannot resist a badge. This one was made by another Guy (not the Guy above)


Alongside the artefacts, we also had some of the records, including a selection of site photographs, and these also proved a hit, especially with those of a particularly archaeological bent.


A number of people (people who are generally very aware of archaeological activity in London)  remarked that they had no idea that a dig had ever been carried out on the foreshore here, and one TDP pal of mine had a small fit and did the monkey dance when he saw the photos, as he has been trying to work out levels and rates of erosion on the Tower foreshore and these records provide hard evidence.

This was a chance for us to highlight The Royal Armouries and the, often overlooked, role of archaeology in the collection. The response to the appearance of these artefacts and records demonstrates the value of the projects like this one, opening up those cupboard doors and enabling access, for the first time, to these unknown and unseen archives.

All the stands had a similarly fruitful day and we were told that there were about 990 visitors to the event as a whole on the Saturday and 1100 on the Sunday, so these are really good numbers (we did try to count how many people visited our stand, but we kept losing count, especially when we were swamped by crowds!). The queue for the foreshore was enormous.


And we did also get to see a few of the artefacts picked up on the foreshore during the weekend. These are particularly appropriate:

two world war 1 shells


a gun flint, as used in all those flintlock mechanisms we’ve been talking about.


I’ve also just found out that there will be another chance to visit the foreshore in September, during the Thames Festival. Don’t miss it.

Weapons of mass distraction: Time and Tide

For anyone around in London this weekend, 19th and 20th July, a very special event will be taking place.

The annual Tower Open Foreshore event is one of the only opportunities for people to get down onto the foreshore at The Tower of London, and it’s very popular indeed. It’s also FREE :D

192992 *

This weekend, staff and volunteers from The Royal Armouries will be joining other groups including Historic Royal Palaces, the City of London Archaeological Society (COLAS), Thames Discovery Programme (TDP) and Thames 21 to delight the summer masses on the embankment and the foreshore.

You can do some foreshore foraging and have finds identified by experts, see the entrance to Traitor’s Gate from the river side, there’s usually some dressing up, lots of artefacts to look at and handle, and this year The Royal Armouries will be showing some of the archive from the 1986 Armouries Workshops foreshore dig for the very first time.

So if you’re around, come on down to Tower Hill, on the embankment, and have a go at some badge making, learn about the Ordnance workshops, have a look at some gun parts from flintlock weapons and generally mess about by the river.

It’s fun :D


NB. Access to the foreshore is tide dependent. The approximate times are:

12.45 – 14:45 approx. on 19th July
13.30 – 15:30 approx. on 20th July
NOTE: these are approximate times and are dependent upon tides.


More info here:


Further information (courtesy of TDP)

Access to the river foreshore is dependent upon safety and the tide times. Access is on a first come, first served basis, and numbers will be restricted to up to 500, depending upon safety advice. Only surface level archaeology is permitted and any significant finds must be recorded with the Portable Antiquities Scheme. Sturdy footwear is recommended, a plastic bag and wet wipes may come in handy, metal detectors are strictly prohibited!


The London that time forgot

Paul Talling is probably best known for his hit book ‘Derelict London‘, in which he presented photographs of the bits of London that time forgot. Old pubs, disused seaman’s missions, boarded-up churches, decaying houses and much much more faded architectural glamour.

He also does these guided walks. I’ve done a couple of them before, and they’re great. He seems to have drunk with every old landlord and old lag in London, and can spin the most unlikely tale.  The route of this walk took us around Woolwich, Gallion’s Reach, Beckton and the Royal Docks, Woolwich Arsenal and on to the delights of West Thamesmead. We took in a bit of the foreshore and an old Arsenal Football ground. Sound epic? Talling’s walks are epic, and usually end in the pub.

Onward Ho!

I should say that I was also joined by two FROG* companions, @helga_j and @odysseus_nz so we’ve taken a rather FROGgy view on at least some of this stuff.


The day started at Gallions Reach DLR and proceeded straight down towards the docks and the river to have a look at some of the significant change that has happened in this area over the past few years.

This whole area has been variously redeveloped and abandoned over the past couple of decades or so. The building in the background (with the stilts) was only built in 1999, but has already been abandoned and left for nature to take its course.


Down by the dock, we had a look at some of the old river frontage which serviced the old Beckton Gas Works


Beckton Gas Works covered a huge area, over 500 acres, but none of the old buildings survive and the site now contains blocks of flats, a number of new roads, trading estates and a giant Tesco.


Famously, Stanley Kubrick used the, then already derelict, site to shoot the Vietnam scenes for his 1987 film Full Metal Jacket. Far more importantly, scenes from Loop’s 1990 Arc Lite video were filmed there.

Arc Lite 4Arc Lite 1 Arc Lite 3 Arc Lite 2 **

From there we walked along a rough path to a ladder in the retaining wall.


Now, this all looked pretty unlikely but after a little clambering and scrambling through the undergrowth we encountered not only the river but also the hulk of an abandoned Thames barge.


The FROG among us immediately started tweeting pictures of it to TDP HQ, and muttering darkly about possible fieldwork and how many people would be needed to get the timbers recorded.


Definitely a project for another time.

Moving ever onward, we crossed over the entrance to the Royal Albert Dock,


and then a little more walking around North Woolwich took us to the oldest terraced council houses in London


and a local pub whose uppers floors were destroyed in the Blitz.


The pub has closed down now and the site is for sale, but while we were looking at it, a man who lived across the road stopped and asked if we were thinking of buying it. When I explained that we were looking at the area’s history he started to tell us about the reality of living in the area. There have been proposals for the redevelopment of the pub, but there is a height restriction (any new owner cannot rebuild the upper stories) and the cost of making the property sound is prohibitive (the cellar is full of water and the estimate, just to solve the problems caused by this, is around £100k!). The only sure way to find out about an area is to chat with someone who actually lives there.

A stop off at the local caff for a cuppa and a bite to eat, and then we were off again via a disused railway station,


and this derelict pier, once used on a visit by Winston Churchill.



Next a trip across the river on the Woolwich Free Ferry (my first trip  on the ferry) took us over to the site of the old Woolwich Dockyard. Founded by Henry VIII in 1512 as the building site for his flagship, Henri Grâce à Dieu (‘Henry, Grace of God’, AKA, the ‘Great Harry’).

Grace dieu ***

The clockhouse has lately been used as a community arts centre,


and several of the run docks have been incorporated into the housing schemes, and are used by water birds and local residents for fishing.

P1260134.  P1260132.

The whole area is dotted with remnants of the area’s naval past and, in particular, all the canon seem to really bring out people’s inner Cher.

P1260120. P1260111. P1260141. P1260118.

Then we went off into town to see something which may or may not be close to your hearts. The very first branch of McDonalds to open in the UK :/


Moving swiftly on, on the other side of town is the Royal Arsenal, where we stopped briefly for a drink.


This modern pub, the Dial Arch, was built onto a standing arch built in 1720. It was through this arch that the workers at the Royal Gun Factories streamed to work, and it was later generations of these workers who formed the naissant Arsenal Football Club, then known as Dial Square FC.

We then set off for a little walk around West Thamesmede, past this Gormley-esque installation by Peter Burke, called ‘The Assembly’,

P1260168. P1260169.

and taking in this huge, drained canal basin, built in1814 using convict labour and complete with a lock and swing bridge. All disused and neglected.


P1260205. P1260210.

After all this, I must admit, we were all flagging so we made our way back to Woolwich, taking in the sites of a couple of Arsenal FC’s former grounds, and back to the Dial Arch pub for a reviving drink of cider. Pubs being what they are, we fell to chatting about this and that, mainly politics and music, and I discovered, amongst other things, that Paul used to put on gigs at the George Robey in the late ’80s/early ’90s. Anyone else remember Club Dog?

A great day out.

Details of Paul’s guided walks can be found here: http://www.derelictlondon.com/  and they’re highly recommended. They’re popular too. This particular walk has been sold out on 13 occasions this year already and there are at least another 3 scheduled, so if you like the look of one of the walks, get it booked PDQ.

* The FROG is the Foreshore Recording and Observation Group, working under the umbrella organisation of the Thames Discovery Programme.

** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QqL8EVnrPyE

** image courtesy of http://www.universal-prints.com/english/fine-art/artist/image/unbekannt/6454/1/57907/the-henry-grace-a-dieu/index.htm

Odds Bodkins 3

More pins please…Ok :D

I’m back from my little jaunt, and back in the Raiders-style warehouse that is the LAARC.

raiders-of-the-lost-ark-matte-painting *

I should say, however, that most of the excavated material at the LAARC has come from better excavated and recorded contexts than anything that Indiana Jone ever went near. Much as I love it, that film should really be called ‘Looters of the Lost Ark’. Indy’s standards of archaeological practice are abysmal.

Anyway, I had a couple of plain pins this week. Here’s one. It’s nice.


And a couple of pins which were very interesting for different reasons.

Firstly we have this pin with a decorated head.


It looks really white on the screen there, and in fact it is really white.


This may be the result of burning. You might think that burnt material would be black or sooty-coloured, like burnt wood, but bone goes very white. Perhaps this was burnt in one of the very many accidental fires that would have been common in Roman London or, tantalizingly, possibly a cremation. Oooh.

Then I was presented with this beauty.


This is a complete, rather long pin (approx. 175mm) with a head decorated with grooves and cross-hatching. The finish on it is lovely.


Once the scanned image is uploaded onto the online database, viewers will be able to examine this kind of decoration up close. The scans show up all kinds of detail that it can be tricky to spot even when holding the pin itself.


We have also been discussing pins in relation to what they can actually tell us about firstly, hairdressing in Roman London and, more broadly, about pins and other artefacts as evidence for women in Roman London.

My co-volunteer Jo suggested that the pins may be multi-functional and perhaps some are not even hair pins at all, but had other functions altogether. This lead to a discussion about the size and weight of the pins, their practicality in holding up hair, pinning on hairpieces, their usefulness for scratching nit bites etc. We came to the conclusion that some experimental archaeology might be in order. Does anyone have an old  Girl’s World?

We also had a talk from Francis Grew, the Manager of the LAARC, about evidence for women in Roman London, specifically looking at just a few examples of inscriptions. Because one of these inscriptions was the tablet concerning the sale of the slave girl Fortunata (!), this also lead on to a fascinating discussion about the nature of  slavery in the ancient world, the slaves’ point of view, the notion of ‘human rights’ within such a different culture and world-view (after all, this specific tablet concerns a man who is a slave, owned by another slave, buying yet another slave!).

Top stuff. And these kinds of opportunities for discussion, reflection and enquiry are among the reasons why LAARC and Museum of London volunteering projects are considered, by volunteers, to be among the very best volunteering opportunities around. So good in fact, that one of their other ongoing projects, ‘Unearthing‘, has been shortlisted for a Collections Trust award in the category ‘Collections Practice Award’.


The winner will be announced next week, so fingers crossed that the Museum of London scoops it.



* I half-inched this image from here http://www.empireonline.com/features/cinemas-greatest-vfx-shots/p3

Something fishy

Neapolis: the New City, was founded by the Phoenicians after Carthage. This was a coastal city, the remains of which can be found in what is now Nabeul, on Cap Bon.


During the Roman Civil Wars, Neapolis sided with Julius Caesar and was subsequently rewarded with the status of colonia, along with all the rights that this afforded its citizens. The city, Colonia Julia Neapolis became a prosperous port with its own guild of navicularii (shipowners), and its maritime position and related trades are clear in the remains visible today. Of particular note, and what I was there to see, were the remains of the city’s garum factories.


Picture the scene.


The fishing boats moor up and unload their catch. The Roman equivalent of fish girls (or boys) set to work gutting and filleting fishes for salting. What happens to the offcuts? The heads, guts, eyeballs? They all get mushed up together in large tanks and left to ferment for a month or so. Then the liquid is skimmed of the top, creating garum, the fish sauce beloved of Romans. This was the condiment of choice. They used it on everything, savoury and sweet, as a seasoning, as a sauce. The nearest modern equivalent might be something like Thai fish sauce. Another Roman fish sauce, liquamen, was made from small whole  fish, left to ferment in vats in the same way*. Roman Worcester Sauce perhaps. The sediment, sludge, bits and tiny fish bones which settled out of the garum or liquamen, was called allec (or alec / alica) and was used  as food or as a flavouring for poorer people and slaves.

This recipe was recorded by the Roman writer Apicius in the 1st century CE, and utilises garum in the sauce:

Ostrich Ragoût

In struthione elixo: piper, mentam, cuminum assume, apii semen, dactylos vel caryotas, mel, acetum, passum, liquamen, et oleum modice et in caccabo facies ut bulliat. Amulo obligas, et sic partes struthionis in lance perfundis, ete desuper piper aspargis. Si autem in condituram coquere volueris, alicam addis.

For boiled ostrich: pepper, mint, roast cumin, celery seed, dates or Jericho dates, honey, vinegar, passum, garum, a little oil. Put these in the pot and bring to the boil. Bind with amulum (a roux made with fine meal), pour over the pieces of ostrich in a serving dish and sprinkle with pepper. If you wish to cook the ostrich in the sauce, add alica. (Apicius, 212)**.

Well. That’s dinner sorted then***.

On my visit I was met by the, now, familiar phrase “fermé à cause de la grève”****. However, all was not lost. The site fronts directly onto the beach, so I walked round to see if any of it was visible from the other side of the fence and…

Oh frabjous day!


So ok,  it’s not ideal. I am outside the fence and all those garum vats are inside, but it’s a damn sight better than merely “fermé à cause de la grève“.

You can see the foundations of a villa with a mosaic floor, and part of the garum production factory.

And here are the tanks into which the fishy bits were placed to ferment.



As I was walking along the fence-line, actually on the beach, strewn around my feet were numerous sherds of pottery, a mixture of ancient and modern.

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Amongst them was what looked suspiciously like the base of an amphora.


Perhaps this held the garum which was actually being produced right here. But then some clumsy slave went and dropped it.

I did also manage to get into the museum very, very briefly. Good thing too. Look at these lovelies.

*There is ongoing debate about the exact methods for making the various fish sauces. Sally Grainger, and expert on ancient cookery, wrote a piece on this here: http://www.oocities.org/athens/ithaca/8337/c_garum.html


***this is actually not my dinner sorted. I don’t eat meat, or fish.

**** “closed because of the strike”

Fermé à cause de la grève

Fermé à cause de la grève: closed because of the strike. This phrase has become all too familiar during this visit to Tunisia. I tried to go to Kerkouane, right at the very end of Cap Bon. Two and a half hours by bus from Tunis to Kelibia, then striking a deal with a taxi driver for the rest of the way to this right-out-of-the-way site, only to be met with “fermé à cause de la grève”. Ho hum.

I don’t like to be put off so, despite the high probability that I’d end up staring through the bars of a locked gate, I decided that I’d at least attempt the visit that I’d planned, to Utica.


Utica is situated about 35km north of Tunis. Originally on the coast at the mouth of Medjerda River, the gradual silting up of the estuary means that it is now some 20km inland. Older than Carthage, Utica was founded in around 1100BCE (this date is uncertain and there is some disagreement over its accuracy).

Although the city was originally an ally of Carthage, the relationship began to sour during the First Punic War, and the two cities found themselves on opposing sides. Again in the Third Punic War, Utica sided with Rome, against its now more powerful ex-friend Carthage, and was rewarded when Carthage was defeated. During the Roman Civil War, between the generals Caesar and Pompey (and their supporters), it acted as the focus for Pompey’s supporters after his defeat, but it gradually began to decline during the early Empire, after Augustus moved the seat of provincial government to Carthage. It became a full Roman colony under Septimius Severus, but fell to the Vandals in 439CE.

It was a little bit of a schlep; bus from Tunis to Zama, then walk the 2 miles-ish to the site. The walking route is completely flat, but it was very hot. Still, it was all perfectly do-able.

As expected the site was indeed fermé à cause de la grève, but the Guardian, who was pottering about the garden, very kindly let me in to the museum gardens, and even showed me round :D . This was a real stroke of luck, as it meant that I got to see this beautiful mosaic-lined pool.


The mosaic-work echoes the maritime nature of the city; the bounty of the sea; and the importance of trade to the wealth on display here.


P1250288  P1250289

There was originally a fountain in the pool, as indicated by the hole for the pipe, just at the mouth of the god.



There were also two statues of particular interest. First, this over-life-sized Hercules (or perhaps life-sized. I mean, Hercules was a demi-god after all).


And this hero.


This statue was clearly designed to stand in a niche, probably leaning against the back wall, as not only is the rear unmodelled, it has actually been flattened off, even the back of the head (although not, interestingly, those pert buttocks!).

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The Guardian confirmed that the main site was also closed, but he did say that if I walked about 1km down the road to where the fence ends, I’d be able to go onto the site, and if anyone said anything, to say that he’d said it was ok. Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing gained, so off I went.

Ooh, There’s something in there.


Honestly, I felt like I was going to be arrested any minute. I just ran round the site, wildly snapping as many pictures as I could before I got caught. And I did get caught, eventually. They were very nice about it. A freshen up, a five minute sit down, a drink and a chat, and then I was frog-marched out. They even thought that it was hilarious that the Guardian at the museum had not only told me that I could come in, but also how to get in surreptitiously :D

Here are a few of my very disorganized snaps.

Opus sectile floor in the excavated Insula.


Fountain and sundial in the courtyard of the House of the Cascades.




Decorated basin in the Insula


View across to the second entrance of the Waterfall House.


Opus sectile floor of the Waterfall House.


It’s a great site and I’ll certainly visit again. Perhaps at a more leisurely pace.

“The Parisii live [in] a city called Lucotocia”*


So, Paris. I haven’t been over there in ages, so it was nice to be there. Loop provided me with the excuse for a trip (*thanks Loop*), but while I was there I was also looking at Roman and Gallo-Roman archaeology and artifacts.

By a rather convenient coincidence, there happened to be a major exhibition on at the Grand Palais while I was there: Moi, Auguste, Empereur de Rome. This expo commemorates the 2000th anniversary of the death of the so-called Princeps and the first de facto emperor, Augustus. The exhibition had previously been shown in Rome, although over 100 works have been added for the Paris version. This anniversary has also prompted the Italian government to begin restoration on Augustus’ tomb on the Campus Martius (I’m choosing to be optimistic about this, but judging by the debacle of Pompeii, perhaps I’m just kidding myself).


The exhibition consists of artefacts selected as indicative of the broad Octavian/Augustan period, from its late Republic and early post-Republic beginnings, including artefacts associated with, or commemorating the period of the Civil War and the Battle of Actium. It takes in artefacts from the newly-Imperial Rome and from around the provinces of the then hugely expanding Empire. It takes as a point of interest, the ways in which Augustus used his own image,  distributed around the empire, to help to consolidate his rule, and it includes a number of statues and busts of Augustus, including the bronze equestrian statue found at the bottom of the Aegean Sea, and a lovely bronze portrait found at Meroe and now in the BM’s collection.



Anyway, this exhibition was a fairly serious-minded attempt to examine the Augustan period but, if I’m honest, the effect was more like “coo, look at this awesome Emperor and cool stuff!”. It was good though, painted things, shiny stuff, big statues and chunks of Pompeian fresco. Unusually, it was possible to take photos of some, though not all, of the exhibits inside the expo so here’s a little bit of cool Augustan stuff.



This portait bust of Crassus, from the immediate pre-Augustan period is also especially cool.


Here’s Livia in her role as priestess.


And the man himself, becoming a god.




Slightly less ‘I’m an Emperor, get me out of here’ is the Crypte Archeologique du parvis Notre-Dame. It’s in the square right in front of Notre Dame Cathedral and this below-ground-level space offers a complete contrast to the bustle above. I’ve been here before but not for years, and since then the space  has been significantly upgraded. I must say, they’ve done a good job of it, although I’d have preferred it if they’d kept some of the artefacts on display, as this helps to highlight the people in amongst all these buildings.

So what’s here? Well these are the early street levels of the city, from the Roman period, through the medieval and right up to about the late 18th century, complete with foundation and lower wall levels of several townhouses, external streets, internal courtyards, some of the drainage systems, elements of quayside constructions and even the ruins of a cathedral!


Here’s part of the quay. The water would have lapped up against on the extreme right of the image.


The in-situ remains, together with the very good, detailed information panels trace the story of Paris through it’s street layouts and buildings and offer a fascinating view into the development of a major city from its very beginning. Below, we can see a medieval cobbled floor (at the front of the picture), in a building overlaying an earlier Roman building (indicated by the stone slab floor at the back).


There’s lots of lovely reused Roman stone, for all you recycling fans, complete with masons marks and old inscriptions. Here, part of a bridge pier is made from reused material.



Go visit.

On this visit I also decided to make a return visit to Musée Carnavalet. Alas this was not to be, as the museum was closed :(. But to keep up the Roman theme, I went over to Les arènes de Lutèce, the Roman amphitheatre near Place Monge.


This amphitheater dates from the early 2nd century and would have been used for entertainments such as mime and pantomime, animal fighting, gymnastics and, sometimes, gladiators.

It’s pretty cool that this is still in use for games. When I was there, it was football.


A short stroll up the road took me to Musee Cluny, which we may think of as largely medieval of course, except for the fact that it’s built on top of a Roman bathing complex, Les Thermes.


This was a huge public bathing complex, built around the early 3rd century, possibly by the local guild of boatmen, the nautes. It is possible to see the original vaulting and a good collection of architectural and decorative fragments.

The best preserved room to visit is the frigidarium; the cold room.


If you’re interested in Roman Paris, there is an excellent site here , where you can find, among other things, a route for a walking tour of the Roman city.

Even for me, Paris is not all Roman stuff. Thanks to late night opening at The Pompidou, I also managed to squeeze in a visit to their  Henri Cartier-Bresson retrospective. This expo is absolutely giant: 500 pieces! Frankly I think that this is too much but it was intended as a whole career, indeed whole life, retrospective, so I guess it makes sense. But seriously though, 500 pieces!?! I was exhausted.

Nevertheless, it did inspire me to try a few Cartier-Bresson-esque photos of my own.

‘The New Angle’    Bresson(1)

‘Fixed Explosive’  Fixed_Explosive(1)[1]

‘Dreamer’                 P1230265

And finally, as it was Loop who got me here in the first place, here is some gratuitous Loop action from their fantastic gig at Villette Sonique .


This is where they end**. And I am outta here.


 *”The Parisii live round about the Sequana River, having an island in the river and a city called Lucotocia” (Strabo, Geography,  iv:3:5). You’ll see that I’ve tweaked this quote in a, frankly, shameless way in order to make it a neat heading for this post.

**’This is Where You End’ (Loop, Fade Out, 1988). You’ll see that I’ve tweaked this song title in a, frankly, shameless way in order to make a neat outro for this post.