[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 1 July 2024].
to a beloved | qui riposa
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 18 June 2024].
pay here
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 6 March 2024].
disappearing further into obscurity
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 7 January 2024].
disappearing into obscurity
loss, family, friends, photo walks, cats and dogs
It seems odd to say 2023 was one of the better years for me recently, despite Mum passing on 1 March.
Realistically, I’d probably started mourning her loss in March 2018, when I believed that would be the last time I’d see her in person. It was a mixed blessing to have one more opportunity in October 2019. But I knew when I left Tasmania at the end of that visit that would be the last time.
By the time she passed, we hadn’t even been able to have Skype calls for about a year and a half. And our calls hadn’t involved actual conversation for a long time before that.
So, her passing was more of a continuation and perhaps the closing chapter of my mourning.
Don’t get me wrong: I still semi-regularly well up and have a good cry while thinking about her. But it’s not been as intense as it would have been without her prolonged descent into dementia and multiple false alarms to prepare me for the final eventuality.
We said our farewells, and Mum set off on her final journey on 18 June 2023, when Dad, Robert, Peter and I could finally be in one place.
An old friend, Dee, messaged me soon after to tell me the ocean currents may have taken her to New Zealand.
It was the first chance we had to be in one place as a family to say goodbye to Mum, but it was probably also the first time the four of us had been together since early 2007.
With family, loss and the passing of time on my mind, I predominantly spent my month in Australia catching up with family, especially those I hadn’t seen in far too long.
My uncle, John, is one member of my extended family I’ve managed to see on all of my visits since leaving Australia in January 2011. But I enjoyed spending another few days of quality time with him, talking about family and family history, debating politics and catching up with his partner, Verna. And I managed to set him up on WhatsApp so I can call him regularly at no cost.
My Mum’s side of the family has been harder to catch up with over the years, mainly due to geography. For most of my childhood and teens, they lived in Calgary. And when they returned to Australia, they settled in Perth.
I met Rhys (pictured at left, taking the group selfie) when I was about 11, but I didn’t meet my other cousin, his twin, David (centre back), until Rhys’ wedding about ten years later, in 1998.
I’m ashamed to say that was the last time I’d seen Rhys and my uncle, Graham, until this year. Although, I stayed with my aunt, Patricia, in 2002, when I returned to Australia after my first stint of living in the UK and caught up with David then. Christopher (back right) wasn’t yet born.
So, it was lovely to spend a couple of days getting to know Rhys better while he played tour guide, to spend a few days with his family, and to spend an evening with Mum’s family.
I would have liked to have spent more time with them, but I had so much to cram into just a month. Hopefully, I’ll be able to spend more time next time.
And I caught up with Rhys, his wife, Jenny, and their daughter, Georgia, for an evening when they were in London a few months later.
In addition to spending time with family, I was pleased to catch up with my first-ever best friend, Narelle, for the first time in around 39 years. And to spend time with Lisa and Sarah.
It was a pleasure, as always, to spend time talking and dining with Victoria while I was in Tasmania, including a rain-sodden wander on West Ulverstone Beach.
We wandered around the Tasmanian Arboretum with Cheryl after scattering Mum’s ashes; just what I needed.
I did spy a platypus and took some photos, but they may need quite a lot of enlargement to confirm that!
I took many photos of Perth in the glorious weather as Rhys played tour guide.
Here’s one of a frilled neck lizard sculpture in the Mindeerup section of south Perth, part of Karl Kep Ngoornd-iny (Fire and Water Dreaming) by Yondee Shane Hansen.
In addition to my family, who offered up beds and couches to me during my stay, I want to thank everyone who could make the time to catch up during my (relatively) short time in Melbourne.
It was lovely to catch up with Jess, Preethi and Feih for drinks one night. Ian, David, Pete and Corey the next night. Brunch with Richard and his daughter, Sienna, dinners with David and Anthony, and a pint and chips with Jason.
(I hope I haven’t forgotten anyone!)
Special thanks to Amy and Chris for shuttling me and Richard to Springvale Botanical Cemetery to visit Anthony Horan’s grave and to Richard for the engaging natter on the train (and apologies for getting us on the wrong train!)
Usually, my visits to cemeteries are for purely photographic purposes. But this year, I found myself in cemeteries to visit friends.
That’s how I came to be in Brookwood Cemetery, the largest cemetery in the UK. It used to have its own dedicated railway, including first-class carriages for the dead, running direct from the London Necropolis Railway Station in Waterloo.
The same station still serves it. But now it’s just the living commuting by train from the main Waterloo Station.
(I knew about the cemetery and the railway well before my visit because of Catharine Arnold’s book, Necropolis: London and its Dead, which I read many years ago. I’ll return for a more leisurely photo walk in future).
I did, of course, also visit cemeteries for purely photographic purposes.
In chronological order, I wandered the following cemeteries:
Plaistow Cemetery in Bromley (on my birthday)
Brockley Cemetery (part of Brockley and Ladywell Cemeteries)
Ladywell Cemetery (part of Brockley and Ladywell Cemeteries)
London Road Cemetery in Bromley
Paines Lane Cemetery in Pinner
Pinner New Cemetery (probably the worst maintained cemetery I’ve come across, and I include those maintained within the concept of ‘managed neglect’ in that comparison)
And Hither Green Cemetery, which I’ll have to revisit in 2024, as I arrived about 15 minutes before they closed for the day.
All this talk of death and loss may have you concerned. Never fear: there’s life in the old girl yet.
I didn’t travel as far afield as I’d hoped this year, but I did spend a day wandering Birmingham, its canals, and marvelling at the city’s Spaghetti Junction with fellow photographer Phil Ivens one Sunday.
I spent a lovely weekend with my distant cousins in Uxbridge, including a day in Henley-on-Thames.
And Hambleden.
Once again, it was lovely to spend time with family members I don’t see often enough (though there’s less excuse with these guys as, apart from Malcolm, we live in the same city, albeit on almost opposite sides!)
And in November, Scott joined me for the next stretch from Palmers Green to Enfield.
And, on Boxing Day, I took what I thought was a scenic shortcut through Grove Park Nature Reserve, aiming for Hither Green Cemetery, only to find the footbridge as part of the Railway Children Walk was closed for maintenance.
And now, the part of my annual wrap-up you’ve all been waiting for (drum roll).
Here’s the roll call of the new kittehs (and doggos!) I sat this year.
I sat 17 cats, 11 of which were new clients (though two were new kittehs for existing human clients).
I sat three doggos, all new clients and all lovely beasties. Unfortunately, Dougal (pictured above) has now crossed the Rainbow Bridge, passing around the day I left for Australia.
I sat ten fish, four of which were new clients. Six have now gone to fish heaven (only one on my watch, purloined from its pond by a cat or a fox).
Jilly arrived in Bounds Green as Lottie’s successor.
Oscar joined my three regulars in Bromley.
Frank, who loves to cuddle (which is a good thing, as he’s so smooshable!)
Pebbles, an old soul.
Treacle, who is as sweet as…
Milo loves a good game of tug-o-war.
Mango can be entertained on a shoestring (literally) and loves a lap.
I visited her four times over three days in the summer. She knew exactly when I was about to leave and when to curl up cutely on my lap.
Bobby with his “come hither and rub my belly” gaze.
Cino, Bobby’s less aloof brother.
These two were hilarious to listen to when they chatted while they played with their toys.
Bobby and Cino had some fishy friends (two of the three pictured).
George, a cheeky tabby who lives next door to my regulars.
And Lottie, George’s housemate.
I visited these two thrice daily one weekend while sitting my regulars.
And my newest and youngest clients, at 14 weeks, David.
And Stevie.
I slept in someone else’s bed for 160 nights this year (no, not like that).
Between pet-sitting, a weekend visit with my cousins, and my visit to Australia, I was away from home almost 44% of this year!
I loved it, but I will admit I missed my bed, iMac and my own room (though not the scaffolding surrounding our flat for about six months).
The coming year looks quite busy already, but it will be interesting to see whether it will be more or less busy than this year. I already have four new doggo and two new kitteh clients scheduled over the summer.
Before I wish you all a happy new year and the best of everything for 2024, I want to thank all my friends and family who have been there for me during 2023 when I really needed it (and, in many cases, every year before that).
I hope I have been and/or will be there for you when you need it.
Love to you all for 2024 xx
singapore graveyard flower
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 1 December 2023].
Whilst staying with my uncle and his partner in the southern suburbs of Brisbane, shortly after arriving in Australia in June, I ventured out to purchase various devices I lacked.
I had never needed a UK-to-Australian adaptor outside my Apple travel kit, but I relied on a Windows laptop from my day job on this visit. I also needed a replacement cable for my iPhone to feed into my Apple adaptor as my existing cable was lightning to lightning, not lightning to USB, and the adaptor was many years old.
All that is beside the point, really.
The point is that I walked from my uncle's to one of the three plus shopping centres "nearby" (all were at least a 20-minute walk) to get such items, and I took my camera, foreseeing that I could capture something of the local area.
My uncle was somewhat sceptical of what I might find to photograph along the way. Which was, in fairness, understandable. Except my idea of photogenic is often not the same as others’.
These and other flowers I photographed in parkland near my uncle's home were more traditionally photogenic. But, had I not had my camera with me, I wouldn't have captured them (well, I would have, with my phone, as I did, but not at the same quality).
The odd thing, though, has been coming back to these photos months later, knowing they are frangipanis and having Wikipedia tell me that Australia recognises a different tree as a frangipani.
This genus is the only frangipani I know as someone who grew up in Canberra, Brisbane, Darwin, Melbourne, country Victoria, and later in life lived on the Gold Coast, and I photographed these in a park in Sunnybank Hills, Brisbane.
We had what I believe to be a plumeria obtusa on the nature strip at the front of the house we rented in Darwin. I remember the fragrant flowers and climbing into its branches to lounge whilst listening to Madonna's album, Like a Virgin, playing from the cassette player I'd fed out my bedroom window onto the table on the balcony.
I looked up where our house used to be in Rapid Creek (or Nightcliff, as we knew it to be at the time), and though the house is long gone (I already knew this from previous searches of former homes), I'm pleased to say the frangipani tree was still standing in 2021.
coronary
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 2 October 2022].
pietà
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 8 March 2022].
mother and child
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 6 February 2022].
the only way is up
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 30 January 2022].
just good fronds
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 31 July 2021].
A little flashback to May 2010, playing with Mel Brackstone's Lensbaby on my Nikon D50.
Mel's mum's house had just been sold. So we spent the afternoon mooching about in the empty property where I also took this self-portrait.
van life
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 26 June 2021].
A random selection from my collection of older work that I hadn't previously edited.
This was taken on an abandoned property in Eight Mile Plains, Brisbane, all the way back in 2009. Exploring with the talented photographer, Mel Brackstone, after a spot of charity shopping for outfits to model in.
The house itself was the setting for two of my interior/exterior self-portraits, le moribund, and the walls keep saying your name.
I still have quite a lot of photographs that don't include me to edit from that day.
Today has been one of lengthy phone conversations with good friends back in Australia.
Talented artist Anna Maria Drutzel and I talked for about 3.5 hours in the wee hours of my morning. Discussing life, love, art. And wherein Anna tried to persuade me (unsuccessfully) to return to Australia.
A couple of hours after I woke again, Penny and I spoke for the first time in about 20 years. For four hours! Possibly the first real conversation we'd ever had, and definitely the first time we'd talked whilst I was sober (Penny, not so much). Despite having known each other for 26 years, most of our time together in the late 90s was spent dancing drunkenly and behaving badly with other regulars at various indie clubs across Melbourne. Not exactly the place for deep and meaningful conversations.
Both were pleasant distractions and yet another reminder of the generous and supportive people I'm blessed to have in my life.
'til death do us part
She wondered to herself - not for the first time - how many other's parents had set the bar for romantic relationships so high. So high that their children's expectations for their own relationships seemed a pipe dream. That anything less than what their parents had was a pale imitation. Anything else left them feeling wanting.
Her parents had shared everything. They had no secrets from each other. They trusted each other implicitly and loved each other unconditionally.
They supported and encouraged each other. Cared for each other and lost sleep worrying about each other.
They talked about everything, and they made decisions as a couple, as a partnership. All the way through their marriage until her mother's dementia meant she couldn't make decisions or talk about things in the same way.
Neither of them dictated anything to the other or made the other feel bad for asking questions. Indeed, most questions were answered before needing to be asked. Their relationship was one of open dialogue and transparency. Always.
There were never any power games. Never the sense that one made the other feel they were being given or denied a treat by being able to see the other more or less. When, how and where they met was a mutual decision. They wanted to see each other equally and showed no restraint from either side.
Her mother became part of her father's family and vice versa. She came from a very affectionate family into one less so. But her mother gradually coaxed her husband's family into the habit of hugs rather than handshakes. Growing up with an aunt whose catch-cry was "kissy-up, kissy-up" on arrival and on leaving her home encouraged her mother to engender that level of affection in her father's family. Though she saved kisses on the lips for her husband alone.
She grew up with the example of intimate and affectionate parents. Even as they grew older, she watched them reach for each other's hands as she walked along the streets of London with them. Instinctive and natural.
Their friends were their friends. Not her mother or her father's. The friendships may originally have been made or found through one. But they became mutual friends her parents spent time with, both together and apart.
There was never any compartmentalisation in their relationship, their relationships with others and their lives. They even worked together side-by-side for about 10 years.
Their weight gains and losses were irrelevant. They were the same people beneath the flesh and bones, so what did weight matter?
As her mother's dementia took hold, she saw how it broke her father's heart. His best friend, lover, partner and confidante of almost fifty years changed. Her mother saw him as a stranger, and he recognised the real her only in glimpses of lucidness. But he has never stopped loving her.
In her own life, she felt she'd never truly experienced what they had. What they have.
Others might argue that what she sought was a romantic fantasy. But she'd witnessed it growing up, so she knew it wasn't just in her imagination.
Sure, she knew their marriage wasn't perfect. Their relationship wasn't perfect. None are. But they worked through anything that might have created an issue. And came out stronger together on the other side.
But what she witnessed of their relationship over more than forty years of her life was always one of love, trust, openness, communication, honesty, affection, adoration and longevity. Damn near perfection, in her eyes.
And so far, she'd only had glimpses of pieces of what they had in her own life. Samples. Tasters. But nothing that stood up to the same tests. Nothing that lasted long enough or brought as much happiness as that she'd witnessed watching her parents as she grew from a child to a teenager, a teenager to an adult.
Everything she had experienced felt like a shadow of what she'd witnessed.
When it came to her own relationships, she viewed the possibility of something even three-quarters as good as what they'd had as a chimaera. Something she hoped for but felt she would never achieve or realise. The stuff of dreams. A fantasy.
Except she knew it could be real.
So she kept seeking it out. Hoping against hope. Believing that maybe, just maybe…
But again and again, she returned to the thought that maybe her parents had set the bar too high. Raised her expectations of what love and "forever" might be to something only achievable for a select few; for people of previous generations, perhaps. But not for her.
She thought, not for the first time: maybe she should just let go of all expectations. And forget 'til death do us part, even if it didn't involve any formal declaration or ceremony. Clearly, it wasn't meant to be.
beast of burden
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 6 June 2021].
As the pinkish hues were swept away by dusk descending, the day was, literally, washed away this evening.
The sky turning from warm hues to cool was accompanied by the sound of large raindrops hitting the leaves of the trees outside my bedroom window.
The raindrops landing formed a welcome chorus. Their sound was the first thing to calm and soothe me for days.
This is an accurate visual depiction of how the last 72 hours or so of my life has felt.
2021 seems to be the year that keeps giving... but, unfortunately, rarely the good stuff, so far.
For someone who dislikes a lack of control in my life - and dislikes feeling helpless or having to ask for help - this year has been a fucking doozy.
I'm trying to regain some semblance of control - at least of those things I can control - but some days (often in a row), it's really fucking hard to just keep getting up and punching on.
I hope 2021 has been better for you so far. xx
untitled #43
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 31 January 2021].
late bloomers is a new curated series of my sepulchre images that you'll notice start to creep into my Sepulchral Sunday posts from now on.
This curated series focusses on artificial flowers adorning final resting places.
I feel they can be equal parts beautiful and pathetic (in the arousing pity, especially through vulnerability or sadness definition of the word).
untitled #123
[I originally posted this image as early access for my Patreon patrons on 17 January 2021].
o tannenbaum
[I originally posted this image as early access for my Patreon patrons on 4 December 2020].
stones corner menagerie
now playing: dresden dolls - night reconnaissance
you're cactus
now playing: bruce springsteen - i'm goin' down