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This sign warns of elderly people crossing the road, and presumably means you should take caution and even slow down for them.

Even an American can recognise this one.  Watch out for the school kids, then watch out for the old folks at the next sign down the road. 

A red circle on a white background without a slash through the black symbol actually means “NO!”  So, the sign on top tells us there are no bikes allowed!  The one below enforces the meaning of “no” in the sign above.  I hope that since dogs cannot read, the sign is interpreted by the dog walkers. 

Now for the bit that always confused me!  Since the red circle without a slash means “NO!” what then does this mean?  No poop scooping?  I’d hate to point out the obvious, but I think someone needs to read the standards code once again.  I have explained that cultural differences mean more than just celebrating different holidays, and this is what I mean!  Cultural differences requires a different logic right down to the core!

For the first time ever, I am publishing the full set of photos from the day Jordan and I met Prince Charles and his wife Camille near The Commandery, in Worcester, England.  Date: June 11, 2008.

Before I had much experience in life I would sometimes cry, thinking how hard it all was.  I met a man in 2001 who changed all that for me.  I will not try to compare him to any homeless person, and I will not pretend his lot was as bad it could get.  His name was John, and he owned a car, and had a home.  His entire life seemed to comprise those two pieces of property, and everything in them.  This 14 foot trailer was John’s home.  He once told me that at nights he would burn his own waste in the fire he would set outside to warm himself by.  The battery in his car provided his electrical supply.  I was never made to feel sorry for him, just to understand him.  I try not to compare my life to his, knowing that he was a happy man, and that I too can always be happy with where I am and what I am doing.  But I keep this image in my mind to remind me that the world is not just about what we have, but our attitude towards it. 

Both of these assignments were done on 18 x 24 inch paper, filling the entire sheet.  The shoes took 18 hours to complete as a contour drawing, and was done in brown colored pencil. They are far from technically correct, however, they demonstrate what I can don on the rare occasion I actually do try to draw anything.  The photos were originally takes of these with one of those lousy little USB Web Cams, so I must apologize for what is lost in the image! 

The Worcester-Birmingham Canal in Winter, Worcester. (Approx. 2003)

Bicycle at Metro., Denver. (Approx. 2000)

Bicycle at Yately. (Approx 2005)

Idaho House. (Approx. 2001)

St. Stephen’s Tower and Parliament At Noon, London. (Approx. 2005)

A Worcester Hedge In Winter. (Approx. 2003)

Pershore Abbey. (Approx. 2005)

Orangery at Great Whitley.  (Approx. 2005)

Petroglyphs Ath The Valley Of Fire, Mouse’s Tank. (Approx. 2002)

Buckingham Palace, London. (Approx. 2005)

800 Year Old Crutch Barn In Worcestershire. (Approx 2005)

800 Year Old Crutch Barn In Worcestershire. (Approx 2005)

The Chapel At Knightly. (Approx. 2006)

Longboats At The River Severn, Worcester.  (Approx. 2004)

Dresses For Hire, Worcester.  (Approx. 2004)

‘Minime’ The Cat, (Approx. 2005)

The Tracks To Oxford At Worcester.  (Approx. 2006)

Malvern Priory. (Approx. 2006)

Abandoned Warehouse At Worcester. (Approx. 2004)

Abandoned Warehouse At Worcester. (Approx. 2004)

Bill’s First Home, Stratford Upon Avon. (Approx. 2004)

On Lake Meade. (Approx. 2002)

Sunflowers Around Denver International Airport. (Approx 2001)

A House I Would Have Loved, Arvada, CO. (Approx. 1999)

The photos above are a random sampling of images taken at the turn of the century, mostly with my Hasselblad, then scanned.  They suffered for my inability at the time to self master the process of scanning.  Still, they demonstrate my vision in composition, and give me personal memories of living in several different places, such as with my first wife, then after our divorce, a stint of living in the back seat of my car.  Soon I found myself in the desert in southern Nevada, then cycling for years through the valleys and rolling hills of England.  Posting this on the 200th birthday of Charles Dickens brings to mind an appropriate quote to comment on these.  “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” 

Some love Paris, some London, some New York.  Some love Los Angeles, Sydney, or Moscow.  For some it is Tokyo, Hong Kong, or Beijing.  Around here, none of that will do.  Around here, when you want to go out and be alone, it is not a state of mind you attain while in a crowded park, or in a dark room in an apartment with muffled sounds coming through the walls.  Alone is a state of being.  Quiet rings in your ears till it hurts.  This lonely dirt road is the only sign of civilization apart from yourself and whatever you took in with you.  Your cell phone is not guaranteed to get a signal anymore.  If you want help, you better have told somebody when you planned to come back so they know when to call it for you.

The road back home is not one you plan on taking on foot.  You don’t bring a .38 because that is for city folks.  Out here you need water, a blanket, some food, skills.  Shortcuts are seldom as simple as they look.  The direct route is never as simple as it looks.  You checked the oil, the water, and the weather before you left home on a couple hours drive.  The gun may have to kill a predator such as a wildcat, or a meal, such as a rabbit, or one of these.

Did you see that?  It is another sign of civilization!  It’s a meal!  It’s company you keep unless you brought a volleyball with you! 

If you live in a city, it is easy to forget how lonely our planet still is.  American Express is not accepted here!  In these parts you carry credit if you can survive a breakdown because when there is nothing but scrub and sun, if you don’t carry that, then maybe you could find a use for that .38 after all. 

Kelsey J Bacon

Before I returned to America, I had a life in England.  I post these random photos taken not long before coming back to remind me of those drives we would take through the countryside with our dear Pat, and of the amazing places I would go and see.  Some things, such as Brown’s Restaurant are gone.  No matter, I never ate there anyhow.  Too pricey!  In spite of what has gone, everything is still there!  Everything is old!  The new things pop up, but in layers surrounding most of the old things, unless some council foolishly destroys a city centre, or the Germans bomb it out.  So much history!  So many memories.  Once you assimilate it, you come back to your home country and try to live someplace in between.  The world in my head looks so different to the place I live now. 

Astwood Cemetery is as solemn a place as any could be, with old growth trees and mossy headstones marking the graves of hundreds of the departed.  Like any, Astwood holds the history of the local city, and of the many families living there, making it sacred to the hearts of so many.  Our family has its place there.  I loved the walks through the old sections when I lived in England.  The atmosphere was haunting and captivating.