Monday, 4 May 2009
Thursday, 30 April 2009
Bench couture
Reading my three month old copy of Vogue Magazine, I was excited to see a new trend. Bench fashion... not one, or two, but THREE fashion ads based around benches. Here's the Longchamp one..

But it seems even benches are vintage these days. Here's perhaps the most beautiful bench photograph I've seen, from a fashion photograph of the 1940s, if you would believe it...

But it seems even benches are vintage these days. Here's perhaps the most beautiful bench photograph I've seen, from a fashion photograph of the 1940s, if you would believe it...
Wednesday, 29 April 2009
Sunday, 22 February 2009
Guest bench...
Wednesday, 4 February 2009
Looking forward ...
Wednesday, 28 January 2009
good workmanship
Not really a sitting bench, but I find this inspirational, how to make your own bird bench.
Monday, 26 January 2009
Bench poem
From fellow bench lover and excellent writer, Chrissie Gittins:
Benches, Tresco
They’re placed at considerate intervals –
curved hurricane pine,
some weathered and scored,
some lichened and worn,
some with holes –
where the trunk swallowed a branch.
From a bench I saw a blackbird with an orange beak,
the promise of protea in fat downy buds,
the chequerboard bark of an endless palm.
From a bench I saw wagtails surrounding a horse,
the stripes of shelduck tipped up in a lake,
the oblique flight of pheasants.
From a bench I saw Atlantic waves
drawing breath, raising their shoulders
and spewing their seething froth right back to the shore.
From a bench I saw an insect in flight,
the blades of its wings whirred away from the island,
it carried me back to rumbling ground.
Chrissie Gittins, from I Don’t Want an Avocado for an Uncle (Rabbit Hole, 2006)
Benches, Tresco
They’re placed at considerate intervals –
curved hurricane pine,
some weathered and scored,
some lichened and worn,
some with holes –
where the trunk swallowed a branch.
From a bench I saw a blackbird with an orange beak,
the promise of protea in fat downy buds,
the chequerboard bark of an endless palm.
From a bench I saw wagtails surrounding a horse,
the stripes of shelduck tipped up in a lake,
the oblique flight of pheasants.
From a bench I saw Atlantic waves
drawing breath, raising their shoulders
and spewing their seething froth right back to the shore.
From a bench I saw an insect in flight,
the blades of its wings whirred away from the island,
it carried me back to rumbling ground.
Chrissie Gittins, from I Don’t Want an Avocado for an Uncle (Rabbit Hole, 2006)
Thursday, 22 January 2009
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