Mariana: the ultimate hot water bottle book (and the Classic edition has just reprinted).

With everything so s--- as the young say there are two options: reading about other conflicts, other people (cf. our WWII category here and in particular Few Eggs) or enjoying a good dose of escapism. This week on the Post we are going for the latter and for Humour here. First up Miss Buncle. The picture we have used (The Felixstowe to Ipswich Coach. 1940 by Russell Sidney Reeve 1895-1970 © Ipswich Borough Council Museum and Gallery) is in fact 1940 and therefore was painted in wartime, six years after Miss Buncle was written. But somehow it beautifully captures the atmosphere of that book. 

We had promised McCall's London paintings but after the continuing grimness of the news (on the one hand) and being faintly hungover from the Bath Life Awards last night, where we won the 'Creative' category, hurrah (on the other), ie from the sublime to the ridiculous, or should one say unbearable, we thought a soothing painting of everydayness would suit readers of the Post today. We found it under 'Suffolk painters' and tbh did not know McCall lived in Suffolk. This is The Piano Lesson 1970. McCall is a painter we shall undoubtedly return to.

The Aldwych 1955. Even Hitler's bombs didn't change this scene that much.

Spring Morning, Belgravia by Charles McCall is undated but looks to be 1960s. How gloriously he has captured the light. Well, we have to hold on to bird song and spring light and daffodils in the face of the relentless terribleness of the news.

This is Charles McCall's London Street Scene 1955. In case anyone thinks that putting it on the Post is fiddling while Rome burns, this image shows a street still rebuilding itself after the war. Who would have imagined...? (And, to the reader who wrote and asked if we were giving a proportion of our turnover to Ukraine: we often give £500 to charity –  but choose not to publicise this fact – last week it was to the Abortion Support Network, this week it will of course be to Ukraine. We also have standing orders to eg. Médecins Sans Frontières, although read their deeply depressing piece here.)

This sentence from William – an Englishman keeps echoing in our head: 'So they [William and Griselda] trotted down the valley, humiliated, dishevelled, indignant – but still incredulous – while their world crumbled about them and Europe thundered and bled.' Yet one of the good things to have come out of the last few days is the fantastic and heart-warming coherence and togetherness of the 27 countries in the EU. Of course it is deeply, deeply painful that the absurd, pathetic UK is excluded, even to the extent that we aren't opening our doors to refugees like every other European country.  But maybe, just maybe, this will make Leavers at last realise what they have done. Anyway, enough already. This week on the Post some soothing, unpolitical paintings of streets in London by Charles McCall. This is Drays Unloading,The Duke of Wellington [Portobello Road] 1977. it sold at Bohmans in September 2020 for £3000. Oh to be sitting there peacefully without any thoughts of thundering and bleeding.