Welcome to Hiroshima!

Kind of not what I expected to find upon arrival in Hiroshima, and that does not infer that I was not welcome(d). Far from it. 

But the name Hiroshima carries such a weight of history that this very ordinary sightseeing guide didn't seem to fit in with my expectations. 

It immediately struck me as ironic, but that probably says more about me, and my cultural background than anything else. 

But of course things move on, Hiroshima today is just another Japanese city getting on with daily life, as indeed it was when the bomb was dropped. It cannot escape its history of course, but nor should it remain mothballed in post bomb apocalypse.

I was impressed and humbled by the way in which the atom bomb site was managed, and contrary to my jaded expectations, it was not over-run with hawkers trying to make a fast buck out of all the visitors. 
It was very calm, orderly and respectful. Very Japanese.  

Photo: Haruyo Yamashita

My wonderful hosts Yosuke and Haruyo.

Reading Lust

I've read Borges in Buenos Aires
Hemingway in Havana
Maya Angelou in a birdcage
And James Joyce in a Dublin pub

I've read Proust in Paris
Tremain on a train
Llosa in Lima
And Plath in the bath

I've read Defoe on a deserted island
Tolkien in The Eagle and Child
Brontë in a burning building
And Murakami at the bottom of a well

I've read Homer in Hydra
Kafka in a cockroach’s carapace
Marquez in solitude (it took ages)
And Halldór Laxness in a Reykjavik café

I’ve read J.G. Ballard sometime in the future
Kerouac on a Greyhound bus
Mary Shelley in a morgue lit by moonlight
And Calvino in a suit of armour in a hot air balloon

Dante’s Inferno on order… any suggestions?

Aromabet (a personal olfactory journey)

A — is for Amsterdam, Acetone, Autumn, the old Alvis car, and Amma (my Icelandic grandmother)

B — for Burnt-out fireworks, Baked potatoes on the ashes of the Bonfire, Bike shops, Bananas, Basil, and Bluebell woods

C — is for Cigars (preferably Cuban), Cinnamon, Coriander, Chestnuts on the brazier, China Town, Cupboards full of Clothes, and my grandparents’ Cowshed in Fáskrúðsfjörður

D — is Daffodils (that come but once a year), Dijon mustard, Denhay cheddar, the inside of the black writing Desk (sadly no longer accessible), and Dad’s old corduroy jacket

E — is for Earth, Eucalyptus, and Extinguished candles

F — for Flower shops, always such a pleasure

G — is for Gamasio (ground roasted sesame seeds), Geraniums, and Greta’s hair

H — is for Hops, Hay bales in the Hutchins’ barn, and the Honeysuckle in the graveyard in Wormingford

I — is for Incense, Ironing, Icelandic geothermal water, and the interior of my old blue VW

And J can only be for Jasmine

K — is for Kippers

L — for Latex, Linoleum, Lavender and my old petrol Lighter

M — is for Marjorie, Marzipan, Magazines, Mint, Marmite, Mothballs, the old Magic Lantern, and the Paris Metro

N — for Newsprint, and Nivea face cream (mum’s nightly application)

O — is for Oil paint, Old books, Oregano, and Orange blossom

P — is for Primroses, Patchouli, Pancakes, sweet Poplar trees, Peaches, and the Pantry at Papillon Road

Q — is for the Quintessential essence of freshly baked almond croissant (at a good French Patisserie)

R — for Rubber, Resin, Reblochon cheese, Rhubarb, and the summer Rain on warm dry dusty ground

S — for Shellac, Sweet Peas, Saffron, Strawberries, and the Sea

T — is for Thyme, Turpentine, Toast, and Toasted Teacakes

U — is for Ulli, who always smelt good

V — is for the green leather upholstery of the Vauxhall 101

W — for Woodsmoke at dusk, Wild garlic at the Mere in Wormingford, and Dad’s Workshop (an alphabet of smells in its own right)

X — is for xmas day lunch roasting in the oven at Trenowyth (circa 1964)

Y — is for anYthing I've forgotten

And Z is for the Zest of a Cretan orange.

With thanks to my nose – often (nay always) overlooked, but never taken for granted...

This being human is a guest house...

"This being human is a guest house
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honourably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond."

Rumi. Circa 1240(?)

Valentines Day

© Rob Lee

Ragnheidur Bjorgvinsdottir Lee arrived in the UK on Valentine's Day in 1947

Extreme Weather

The very rare giant blue poppy — only flowers during extreme weather conditions...

Snowflakes

Two snowflakes land side by side on the ledge of a Manhattan skyscraper. In the streets far below the pavements are crowded with people, tiny black shapes moving about like ants.

“Incredible isn't it,” said one snowflake to the other, “from up here they all look the same, but did you know that each one is unique?”

The snow continued to fall, becoming heavier all the time, swirling past the ledge into the void below. For a moment it seemed that the white flakes falling through space, and the black dots on the pavements, were part of the same strange design.

“Yes, I know,” said the second snowflake, “and they are just as fragile as we are.”