National Colour . . .

If you were to ask people which colour they thought best symbolised England, they'd probably go for not one, but two: red and white, as we see most evidently on the flag of St. George at times of patriotic fervour, most notably when our sports teams once again try to fare as best they can in international competition. I'm not using this post to disparage that - I admire motorists that still sport such flags on their vehicles before, during and even after (as in when the team is on the plane home and the seatbelt sign is switched on . . .). However . . . I think our national colour should be green . . . Racing Green, to be exact.
    I passed through the village of Bishop's Cannings, near Devizes, earlier this evening - a small village, with typically its church and pub nestling side-by-side. The guttering and eaves of one of the pub's outbuildings had been painted this colour, and there's just something so English about this colour . . . imagine its use for the upper and lower colour blocks on the cover of a Penguin paperback, complementing the Gill Sans type on the contrasting white central band . . . the paintwork of the window-frames and doors of village cottages and houses (the first family home I can remember, at Dilton Marsh, had a front door painted so): and, of course, the British racing cars of the early to mid-20th century which were exactly this colour, with their white-overalled drivers captured on newsreel, the clean area where their goggles would have been contrasting against their fume-blackened faces . . . certain shades of foliage . . .
    I always find pleasure in the evocative, as I'm sure we all do at times . . . a piece of music, a picture . . . and, for me, it's such a simple thing as a shade of a colour: I think of England's green and pleasant land partly in this way . . .
   
   

Just like Lazarus . . .

. . . talking about comebacks, yeah? One or two factors have inspired me to start writing this blog once more, after what I've just noticed has been an absence of more than two years. First, this what-has-possibly-become-somewhat-archaic laptop of mine has just had a bit of an overhaul, making it a once-again useful tool: the other factor is my having taken up a writing course at Trowbridge College which, although it might be thought that anyone can put pen to paper, has made me realise that we can all get a kick out of getting the best out of our creative selves with just a sheet of A4 and a ballpoint . . .
    So, I'm hoping to be able to find the time in the future to spew my thoughts into cyberspace (is that term still in use?) but in somewhat expanded form, rather than the short, insane rants through the more instantaneous forms of social media that we all know . . . and love? I look forward to anyone who can take the time and/or have the inclination to drop in and have a read . . . Informing, inspiring, incriminating, infuriating - I hope that whatever gets scooped out of this head covers at least one of these angles . . .