That was then

The town where ducks never go hungry

So farewell Abingdon, my home for the winter. With the arrival of spring I'm packing up my kit bag and hitting the road again. But I'll miss this town, where there's always someone feeding the ducks:


and the doors are amazing:


even if they must be kept shut:


There are ancient almshouses with equally ancient residents who have indulged in some extraordinarily morbid but beautiful grafitti:


I think most of the aged poor have disproved the author of Ecclesiastes:


Some of the almshouses are named in honour of their benefactors:


With names like this, it is no surprise to read (on Wikipedia) that one of Abingdon's more famous residents is Gerald Charles Dickens, the great-grandson of the novelist. Finally, here's more on the great Mr Twitty, in the fine stonecutting that he deserves:


Now I aspire to be one of Twitty's 'honeft and induftrious poor' in order that one day I may be maintained in 'Meate Drinke and Apparrel and all other Neceffaryes of Life' in Abingdon, with enough crumbs left over to feed the ducks.

Borrowed Bookshelves: 5

An collection of fine early printing found beside the Thames in Oxfordshire. The curious sugar mouse is provided courtesy of Abingdon Women's Institute.

Spring

Found Poem No. 5

Everything your heart desires...

Work in Progress

I'm seeing in June at Alembic Press in Oxfordshire, creating new work in the barn studio. This includes the first in a new series of prints composed of text and illustration from 'unwritten stories'. I am using an Arab press to print an arrangement of three-colour polymer plates to which will be added hand-set type.



The rain has not stopped falling since I arrived and I work to its incessant whisper and the trickle of the drains. This is complemented by some Aboriginal music I discovered on the cd player which suggests I am somewhere much more temperate. My particular favourite is the musician and storyteller Mark Atkins:
http://www.myspace.com/markyidakiatkins