Tag: Travel

Jack-in-the-Green
England

Jack-in-the-Green

In their song Jack in the Green, Jethro Tull uses the folklore figure of The Green Man to explore the way the natural world holds sway over the artificial urban world. Jack-in-the-Green is a symbol of nature’s enduring spirit, a guardian of the green amid the grey. He’s the slightly mischievous, unseen force who taps his cane upon the ground, awakening life in the most unexpected places. The fox, the ivy, the dandelions, they’re all part of Jack’s work, his quiet rebellion against the urban sprawl. Continue reading Jack-in-the-Green

The Gordian Knot
England

The Gordian Knot

London is a living entity where new buildings rise, adding to the skyline, yet the historic heart of London remains. The city honours its past while boldly embracing the future, a testament to human endurance and creativity. Continue reading The Gordian Knot

The Elizabeth Line
England

The Elizabeth Line

Our Elizabeth Line train, now at rest, seems to pause and take a breath. Our journey from Heathrow to Paddington has conveyed us from the viridian whispers of London’s periphery to the beating heart of its centre along a seamless conduit through time and space. And here in the Hall of the Railway King, our adventures begin. Continue reading The Elizabeth Line

Sympathy For The Devil
England

Sympathy For The Devil

Tuesday morning on Carnaby Street. The early rain has cleared leaving a bright sky draped with torn remnants of cloud. Puddles gleam in the gutters, sending up effervescent vapour as the sun warms the asphalt and concrete. Reflections shimmer in the pools along the sidewalk: shopfronts and buildings bent and moulded into convex shapes and concave contours. Continue reading Sympathy For The Devil

Ship of the Line
England

Ship of the Line

At seven bells in the afternoon watch, Charles and I step aboard the afterdeck of HMS Belfast. There is no wailing of bosun’s pipes, sprung to welcome us aboard. No stamp and clash of Marines presenting arms. No doffing of hats, no white-gloved sideboys, no parade of midshipmen. We are simply two more civilian tourists coming aboard. Continue reading Ship of the Line

Lunch at the Club
England

Lunch at the Club

We climb the staircase to the club’s first floor. From the high-ceilinged corridor, oak-panelled doors lead to discreet rooms and chambers, each one bedecked with portraits of military men and scenes from great moments in military history: the retreat from Kabul, the Battle of Plassey, Captain Oats leaving the tent in an Antarctic blizzard: “…I may be some time.” Continue reading Lunch at the Club