Tony RIP

Sad news of the death of Tony Curtis, aged 85.



He was a bit of a looker back in the day (this was before it was compulsory for male slebs to have a prominent abdominal six-pack).



He worked with many of the 20th century's Screen Greats, including Marilyn Monroe and, of course, Larry Olivier in 1960's Spartacus, where Tony played the slavish object of lust for Larry's predatory homosexual.

But even if he had made no other movies, Tony Curtis would be celebrated on here for his role in a film made the year before:



Some Like it Hot is a deleriously funny film, thanks in no small measure to Tony Curtis' wonderful pout. And he had pretty decent legs, too.

Pubic shock

Can I just say, once and for all, that this pubic shaving nonsense has gotten completely out of hand.



A perfectly delightful composition ruined by the weirdness of their mostly bald Mons.

It's an utter travesty.

On the tiles

A very jolly-looking chap features in this short sequence.

But... it's those goddamn bathroom tiles that keep dragging my focus away from him.

I like tiling as a decorative effect, actually. Even big, plain surfaces of white tiles. Very crisp.

But these... these are an abomination.

I just can't conceive of anyone standing in the tile shop, surveying all the wares and saying, "no, these are the ones for me. They'll be perfect in the bathroom".

What sort of a fucked-up world is it where people make decisions like that?

Awakening

Just this one single image, but I love it:

There's something about that that I completely identify with. Delightful.

Take 5

I think this series of images is something to do with raising publicity for some sort of musical combo:



I know nothing else about the so-called band, but I do like the imagery.



There's something about it which is just the right (or do I mean wrong?) side of weird.



The group in one image seem to be bestest buddies, while in the next they seem intent on killing each other.



I love the theatricality of it all.



And the bodies, too, of course.

Yes, let's not forget them.

Vernon, o-Kay?

I know this is sick and unnatural, but I harbour lustful thoughts for Vernon Kay.



I know, I know. Believe me, no-one is more appalled than me.



It's just... that rolling Lancashire accent. It gets me every time.



And there's also something about that cheesy game-show host bonhomie...



So imagine my surprise and delight on stumbling across a small cache of small photos showing the object of my lust engaged in some sort of sporting event which, naturally, required him to remove his top:



Alas, that's the most of Vernon's fleshy goodness that we get to see:



But for those of you who are aroused by the sight of sweaty man-flesh, I have included a larger sample.



I know, my lust is utterly inexplicable. You don't have to tell me.



I'm just confessing to you, hoping to lighten my burden by doing so.



Think of this as a plea for understanding, for you to exercise your compassion.



And can I just say that images like this final one are well out-of-order:



Vernon is lovely. Let's just leave it at that.

Joe 90

I've banged-on before about British Rail's Class 90, an electric Bo-Bo express locomotive designed for Inter-City passenger use and fast freight -- here it is brand-new in 1987 in its original livery, one of the first BR locomotives never to wear all-over Rail Blue:

In 1992, three locomotives were repainted as part of the Freightconnection celebration, an event to raise awareness of the possibilities for freight traffic which would open up two years later with the Channel Tunnel.

The Class 90s were painted in the liveries of the state railway companies of Germany (above), and France (below)...

... and of Belgium:

They wore these liveries for a surprisingly long time, although after the privatisation of British Rail many of their class-mates appeared in a range of more-or-less hideously garish colours -- such as this for the stupidly-named "one" company on the former Great Eastern London-Norwich route:

And don't get me started on the utterly dreadful livery they are forced to wear for Scotrail, to haul the heaviest passenger train operating in the UK -- the Anglo-Scottish Caledonian Sleeper service:

The most recent livery is this, for Freightliner, which replaces their old (and really rather good livery) with something that features a Victorian gentleman's mad, twirly moustache:

It's an undignified position for such a capable locomotive to find itself in.

Segue

Tragic/farcical news that the man whose company manufactures the Segway has died after accidentally sliding off a cliff while, er, riding a Segway.

I must say, I like the idea of the Segway.

I've never tried one (in the ludicrously over-regulated UK, they are illegal when used anywhere other than on your own private property).

But I've seen them in action, in the US and in the saner parts of Europe, and they make me smile.

There's now some new, 4-wheel version that looks like a giant pram.

This strikes me as missing the point -- much of the pleasure comes from the contradiction of a two-wheeled vehicle being stable. Although I concede that in this next shot it does appear to be fun:

Segway didn't sell as many models as they thought they would to domestic consumers, so they have been trying to target other markets -- this next one doesn't really convince me, though:

Whereas this last shot looks right to me.

Almost makes me want to be a policeman again, something I've not wished for since about the age of 7.

Wrassle

Assorted 1950s beefcake, largely (but not exclusively) on a wrestling theme.

Who am I kidding? It's an entirely random assortment.

It just so happens that wrestling was a popular theme in the 1950s.

It enabled proto-pornographers to claim they were producing "Classical" images for use as models by painters.

It was, of course, the closest they could get to man-on-man action.

To this day, there is (if gaydar and similar sites are to be believed) a sizeable number of gay men who fetishise wrestling.

Although maybe that has something to do with US high schools which persist in the pretence that "Greco-Roman wrestling" is a sport rather than an excuse for homoerotic bonding and a festival of sneaky touching-up.

Sailors always seemed to figure a lot in these photo-sequences, too.

I can't begin to imagine what that's all about.

BR(ER)RR

As summer comes to an end it's time to finish my photographic survey of the architecture of British Railways' Eastern Region architect's department. You've had Hackney Downs, Ware, Harlow Town, Broxbourne and Barking -- here are some more.

But your eyes have not deceived you: that's Harlow again. I went for a revisit now the refurbishment of the footbridge has been completed. As designed this was divided into two: the northern side for passengers (including toilets and waiting accommodation); the southern side for parcels, including the goods lifts whose mighty towers provide much of the bold profile to the station:

It's now been knocked-through, and the opened-out bridge is a triumph -- all light and even airier, using to great effect the same palette of materials as was originally used:

The "parcels" side of the bridge is a delightful, clean open space, the entrances to the passenger-operated lifts to the right:

While I wouldn't have chosen those benches the overall effect is delightful, and matches well the double-height booking hall which provides the main entrance to the station:

Score one to Network Rail for a pretty decent refurbishment project to one of the most important post-War buildings in England.

It provides a fascinating contrast to a much earlier refurbishment: to Bishop's Stortford station, also on the former Great Eastern mainline:

This strange group of three main buildings, plus a footbridge beyond, makes startling use of earlier structures -- the round tower, for instance, used to be a water tower for steam engines.

Beyond that grouping a large footbridge was built in the Harlow style, large enough to comfortably accommodate a small coffee bar servery.

I've never been a fan of those brightly-coloured window frames that became fashionable in the 1970s (and that James Stirling used, to increasingly dreadful effect, until his death in 1992). But the bold shapes of the lift towers also provide dramatic structures, here looming up from the platform:

An entirely different picture is provided by our final station, Sawbridgeworth.

This tiny country station makes good use of the dramatically over-tall footbridge to create a delightful composition.

The main ticket office is tiny -- and to the right background of this photo you can just see the only other building, a small waiting room on the other (London-bound) platform:

The footbridge is a standard design, those elegant concrete legs designed to provide the height necessary to clear the catenary wires (we saw the same design at St Margarets [without the apostrophe] a few weeks ago).

The footbridge gives a dramatic view of the level crossing adjacent to the station:

And also provides a bird's eye view of the ticket office -- from 1972, by PH Green (it would look even better without those ugly steel shutters and the plethora of dumb notices):

The waiting room is earlier -- 1960, in fact -- and shows considerable stylistic similarities to the Eastern Region's signal box design:

It is a very simple structure but still has room for features that delight:

Today it is in a badly neglected state, with bits of the brick wall knocked off, the paint peeling, and unsympathetic bolts screwed on the door.

Sawbridgeworth is a simple small station, but despite its obvious neglect and a vast quantity of unsympathetic additions and various bashings-about, it's a delightful example of the application of good Modern architecture to a public service.

BR's Eastern Region in the late 1950s and through the 60s was a hotbed of enlightenment. I've had a lot of fun this summer photographing the results.