EXPLORING BSK

 

Let's do a bit of compare and contrast shall we. The two parallel worlds that I inhabit during this (final?) transition period of my life. Call it Dubai v Basingstoke. Or rootless growth v weighed down by history. Thing is, I Iove them both.

The two storey houses with an arts-and-crafts vibe are just down the road from me, snapped on a gentle evening stroll. A street of detached and semi-detached homes, each one different, well kept, nice cars. This is one side of England. the side that I never knew in the 30 years I lived here before. When I was a Yorkshire boy, first generation to go to university. I was intimidated by the confident affluence of the home counties. 

 

45 years later and I've had my adventures around the world, never rich but I did OK. So I don't feel intimidated by all this comfortable wealth. Just interested: in the materials, styles, construction. In the time they represent: before the disaster of WWII, the naive optimism of London overspill planning.

And as I spend more time here, the dusty dynamism of International City Dubai will be seen afresh, from a distance. 20 years at GAJ will seem like a dream perhaps. These shots flatter my other home a bit. Photographs are so selective, so seductive. But it's clear we are dealing with a very different place in almost every way

What do you think?

 

 

Ginnel, snicket. Sikka, alley. These narrow passages between properties have always fascinated me. Narrow enough that every slight deviation hides the destination, imparts a note of mystery.

This is not architecture in the grandiose sense. It's more a case of forgotten facades and accidental artistry. But deliberate design doesn't always lead to the best results. The beauty of old towns and villages often stems from a lack of central planning. They evolve.

That's an organic metaphor and I don't have a theory of natural selection to match Darwin's. But we do have an aesthetic sense and it helps us to survive. I suspect that the modern malaise is partly down to over-planned environment. Our genes favour forests, grasslands, rocky hilltops. We also thrive in urban settings, but maybe they need to be shaped by happy accident and subconscious choice. 

 

Is this just the romantic delusion of advancing years? I hope not. Ginnel, snicket. Sikka, alley. These narrow passages between properties have always fascinated me. Narrow enough that every slight deviation hides the destination, imparts a note of mystery.

This is not architecture in the grandiose sense. It's more a case of forgotten facades and accidental artistry. But deliberate design doesn't always lead to the best results. The beauty of old towns and villages often stems from a lack of central planning. They evolve.

That's an organic metaphor and I don't have a theory of natural selection to match Darwin's. But we do have an aesthetic sense and it helps us to survive. I suspect that the modern malaise is partly down to over-planned environment. Our genes favour forests, grasslands, rocky hilltops. We also thrive in urban settings, but maybe they need to be shaped by happy accident and subconscious choice.

Is this just the romantic delusion of advancing years? I hope not.

 

Something about the proportions of these two chimneys really does something for me. They are directly in view when I sit outside my flat. Funny thing to rave about perhaps, but looking closer I see a bell-mouth in the plaster overhanging the lead apron flashing.

I always like red clay ridge tiles over a purple - grey slate roof. Maybe it's a red white and blue thing, my subconscious patriotism showing through. I left this country 43 years ago, thoroughly sceptical of queen and country. So much has changed. I wonder if Britain has become more sceptical about itself than I am now about this amazing place.

Thing is, I'm going to enjoy living with this bit of old-school roofing as the view that greets me every morning. It's a reminder of the layers of cultural history on display at every turn: a gradually unfolding tapestry. Humans are deeply flawed of course but it's not for me to stand in judgement of my grandparents.

I have the privilege of being able to move between cultures for a year or two yet. Still primarily based in Dubai, but preparing a future for the "prodigal Grampa" to return to.

Enjoy the chimneys. I certainly will.