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As I walked through Stokes Croft today, I saw a wonderful composition. In one corner of this alcove (currently with very different graffiti) lay two tramps, one on top of the other, kissing with tender vigour, while in the other corner sat a huge Alsatian dog, presumably belonging to one of them, staring patiently at the mystery with gentle brown eyes that saw and understood all. It was lovely and touching to see, and I longed to photograph the scene, but delicacy and prudence both forbade it.
Instead I made do with this perplexing sign, which stands a few yards further south at the edge of the Croft, looking towards some unlovely flats and the start of the city centre proper:
The sign has been there for some weeks, and certainly looks quite official with its council logo - but the claims it makes veer between the impossible and the highly unlikely. Is this aspiration? Satire? Art? Where is Marcel Duchamp when you need him?
And who won Britain in Bloom in 2014?
Instead I made do with this perplexing sign, which stands a few yards further south at the edge of the Croft, looking towards some unlovely flats and the start of the city centre proper:
The sign has been there for some weeks, and certainly looks quite official with its council logo - but the claims it makes veer between the impossible and the highly unlikely. Is this aspiration? Satire? Art? Where is Marcel Duchamp when you need him?
And who won Britain in Bloom in 2014?