Although I declared myself a country bumpkin recently, I do occasionally go to town. The differences I see are not only stunning but also remind me why I’m happy to live where I do now. Town is a medicine best taken in small doses.
I spent yesterday floating down the Thames until we docked and nestled for the night into a den of stalagmite giants. The constant drip, drip of commercial success has increased their height until heads kiss the clouds.
So much glass. Why? Do these giants need to feed on the light? Do they spend their long days and nights spying on the flea specks that hurry below looking for new hosts? Or are they exhibitionists of the highest degree?
In the 18th/19th century such a quantity of glass would have been a real demonstration of wealth to the outside world. Perhaps that’s the idea today. Just imagine the debts our government could settle with a 21st century window tax? Just imagine the number of bricks that would be required to reduce the tax bill of struggling companies?
sky caves of glass
reflecting all the glory of