[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 8 November 2021].
clustered in the churchyard
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 30 October 2021].
I stumbled across a large cluster of puffball mushrooms in the churchyard of St Mary's Church in Minera last Monday.
Just one of many enjoyable discoveries on my 5.5-hour photo walk that day.
I finally had a chance to import my photos from my travels to Wales last night, and I'm looking forward to sharing them with you!
I wanted to write a post about my visit after returning from my walk that day. But I was so utterly exhausted I fell asleep on the couch and ended up enjoying some kitteh snuggles and TV instead, in recovery from such a great physical exertion.
I hope to write and share that post in the coming week, along with at least one photograph from my time in Wales.
In the meantime, I have no new cat-sitting gigs coming up yet, so I'm looking forward to sharing new work with you more regularly again from the comfort of my own home.
I'll also share the final chapter I'd written of embers back in 2016 this weekend as a patron-only post on Patreon.
I'm hoping to take part in NaNoWriMo again this year. Let me know if you decide to give it a go too. A cheer squad is always helpful!
fell into the sea
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 18 October 2021].
Hello, my lovelies!
I'm ever so sorry for the radio silence! It's been a manic week or more, and I'm desperately trying to catch up at the moment.
Please bear with me over the next couple of weeks while I'm completing two more kitteh-sitting gigs and working from the laptops of my clients.
I'm fortunate to own a 27" 4K iMac, but I'm currently working from a standard 27" monitor and a 13.3" Macbook Air screen. Neither of which are calibrated. So apologies if things look awry (though I'm sure I'll notice the issues more than you!)
My current wards are two devastatingly cute but mischievous characters who are only five months and one year old, respectively. So they require more wrangling and attention than my last gaolers. As a consequence, it's taken me a while to get myself back on track after relocating last Thursday afternoon, even though I'm only an hour's commute from my home.
After a false start at the beginning of September, I now finally have an excellent new flatmate joining me on 1 November, so the past week has been busy with the admin required to make that official.
I also spent a chunk of last week completing some design work for a client.
And I managed to sneak in a self-portrait shoot in the second bedroom in my flat before it becomes occupied again. I look forward to sharing some of those with you in the coming weeks! It's shocking that I've lived in the flat for about five and a half years but had not managed to shoot in there until recently because it was almost always someone else's space. And when it wasn't, I was away from home.
I also have quite a few self-portraits remaining to share with you from my time in Shepherd's Bush.
I may manage some self-portraits in my current location in Wandsworth. But I'll have to see how confident I feel about putting my camera and tripod at the mercy of two kitties prone to cutting laps in hot pursuit of each other.
I'm also hoping to get out and about one day this week to explore the local and Battersea areas.
My next kitteh-sitting gig - starting straight after this one - will take me to Wales! My first time back in another of my ancestral countries since 2001!
That holds the promise of potential self-portraits but also the opportunity to explore the area a little. And the company of two "furry idiots" I've been assured are low maintenance but prone to bringing "gifts" to their owners in the form of moles and mice (another potential photo opportunity for me, of course!)
Meanwhile, tonight I'm sharing a full-length photo of the grave at the Holy Trinity Church in Bosham I shared in a previous post, going overboard. The inscription aroused quite a lot of interest across my social media accounts a couple of weeks ago when I shared it there.
It reads:
In Memory of
THOMAS son of Richard and Ann
BARROW, Master of the sloop Two
Brothers who by the Breaking of the
Horse fell into the sea & was Drown'd
October the 13th 1759. Aged 23 years.
Tho Boreas's Storms and Neptune's waves
have tos'd me to and fro
Yet I at length by God's decree
am harbour'd here below
Where at an Anchor here I lay
with many of our Fleet
Yet once again I shall set Sail
my Saviour Christ to meet.
going overboard
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 3 October 2021].
until the day break and the shadows flee away
grave dancers union
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 1 August 2021].
In 2000 and 2001, my then partner, David, and I visited Edinburgh in "festival season".
We timed our visits to coincide with the Edinburgh Book Festival, the Edinburgh International Film Festival, T at the Fringe, the Edinburgh Fringe Festival and the Edinburgh Military Tattoo.
Unfortunately, our timing meant we always missed the Edinburgh Jazz Festival. And we never actually made it to any events held as part of the Military Tattoo. We didn't even manage to visit Edinburgh Castle when it was open.
But we had some truly inspiring experiences.
For example, seeing Margaret Atwood and Naomi Klein discussing their recent publications. The latter shortly after the time of the release of No Logo. Getting to ask Irvine Welsh about choosing which short stories to include in the film version of The Acid House.
Seeing Pulp, Arab Strap and Dirty Three at various venues as part of T at the Fringe. Supergrass was a bit of a non-plus, though.
Arab Strap and The Dirty Three were a surprise gift from me to David. I didn't really know them but knew he liked them, so I booked us tickets to their gigs at The Liquid Room. Little did I know I would absolutely love both and that we would have a chance to natter with The Dirty Three's bassist (and painter), Mick Turner, over a few drinks after the Dirty Three gig. A definite highlight.
We also managed to see some excellent theatre, including a feminist take on Jean-Paul Sartre's No Exit.
Each year we went there, we made sure to have at least one day and one night without any bookings so we could get out of town for a drive. The first year we drove along the north side of Loch Ness and around the base of Ben Nevis. The second year, we stayed a night on the Isle of Skye.
Each year we spent the money we saved on accommodation by camping south of Edinburgh on hiring a car to drive there. Staying away for a night wasn't a costly experience, and a hire car gave us plenty of flexibility.
In 2001 I ventured into the churchyard of the Parish of St Cuthbert. It was, and still is, an inspiring churchyard.
I have photos from visits in 2001 and 2011. The first photos were taken with black and white film, and the second visit 10 years later was captured in colour with my Nikon D700.
I've held off sharing my photos of the churchyard from 2011 simply because I would like to share them as a collection with my black and white film photographs. I know I captured many of the same graves on both occasions. And I also photographed a homeless man in one of the derelict mausoleums on my first visit. To share those photos, I need access to a film scanner or to purchase one, and I'm working on that.
But today, I'm sharing this distinctive headstone. I don't recall photographing it on film.
Their torches turned toward the ground represent the extinguishing of life. But beyond that, I know little about the grave or the meaning of these long-haired figures in loincloths.
in the mush pit
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 30 July 2021].
Today was a mostly good day.
I had wondered the other night and had it confirmed this morning that I hadn't actually cracked the screen on my phone! The cracks and damage were actually the Belkin Invisiglass screen protector taking the bulk of the impact of my phone being dropped on bathroom tile.
The replacement of the screen protector cost more than my phone screen on its own would have cost (as my AppleCare+ is still current): £29.99 vs £25. But the complete lack of damage to my phone screen meant replacement only cost me £29.99 instead of £54.99.
And it wasn't a wasted journey as the replacement protector can only be applied in-store. They're vigilant in avoiding dust between the screen and protector, so it took two goes for them to get it perfect, but I'm thankful for their perfectionism.
I highly endorse these screen protectors. It took two years to crack, and in that time, it's taken quite a few hard knocks without damage. And in all that time, my screen has remained in pristine condition.
I then did a few small shopping tasks on the high street. That emboldened me to do a grocery shop. I managed it all okay, but stopped short of walking home with my groceries and paid for a minicab.
Despite how well the day had gone, I still found myself having a "nanna" nap this afternoon/evening. My body's way of reminding me that I'm still in recovery.
I don't know how long this will last, but the neighbour who took me to the Apple store today warned me that a friend of hers is still napping every day, about 15 months or more after having Covid.
After today, I'm hoping to get at least some of the flat cleaned this weekend, but I acknowledge it may take longer than expected.
I'm also hopeful of getting more photo editing done this weekend. But I think the remainder of tonight will be spent resting.
untitled #19
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 25 July 2021].
Today was a learning experience: I am not superhuman.
Back out of self-isolation - finally - and feeling like a million bucks, I went ahead with plans made before catching Covid. I ventured into central London to meet Phil to see the Sophie Taeuber-Arp exhibition at Tate Modern.
It was meant to be my first visit to the gallery since 8 March 2020, just before the pandemic started.
Instead, it was a fool's errand.
Double-masking for the Tube journey, by the time I reached Holborn, I knew something was wrong. I started to feel faint after the short walk to the station and about 15 minutes of standing on the train. The cooler air as I came up to the Central line refreshed me a bit. But I grabbed a seat for the two stops to St Paul's.
By the time I got out of St Paul's station, it was a quick call between the Co-op for food or sitting down to avoid falling down.
I went for the latter on a park by the back of St Paul's Cathedral, but then I was too far away from the Co-op to get food and drink to revive myself.
Full disclosure: yesterday was a mess of a day, and in the process, I neglected to eat. I'd had a handful of sour cream and chive pretzels while dressing this morning and thought I'd be okay until I could grab a sandwich at the gallery.
When I realised my predicament, I called Phil to let him know, and I ended up bailing up a passing couple who kindly took some cash from me to buy me a sandwich and a drink. They came back with both plus some fruit. Thank goodness for the kindness of strangers!
The food helped but not enough. I realised I couldn't walk 20 minutes from St Paul's to the gallery, let alone 1.5 hours slow-walking around inside the gallery in a mask. As it was, even after finishing the cheddar ploughman sandwich and a third of the cherry 7Up Free, I was struggling not to feel lightheaded standing on the spot.
At that point, I admitted defeat and told Phil to go ahead with the exhibition on his own, and I'd figure out how to get home.
It took me an hour, all told, to get transport.
I managed to get to a nearby Starbucks to use their bathroom. I then tried to head home via the Tube, but as soon as I got down to the platform, it was clearly a massive "nope".
I quickly made my way back up to the street level to try to hail a cab. There were so few of them, and those that passed already had passengers or were on the wrong side of the multi-way intersection I was near.
I sat back on a bench about two over from the one I'd landed on when I came out of the station. I repeatedly swore as I waited for the Uber app to download, and I went through the process of setting up an account. Finally, I was able to book a car to collect me.
The seven minutes to arrival felt like the longest seven minutes ever. I had a feeling of pressure on the back of my ears and across the back of my head, indicating I was perilously close to fainting. I couldn't lie down on the bench because it had armrests between each seat.
The relief when my Uber arrived was unbelievable. I was finally able to lie down in the back of the car to recover. It took about 5-10 minutes until I could sit up and talk with the driver for the rest of the journey. He was a nice guy, and we had a good conversation while he drove me back to the safety of home.
I made it into the flat safely but was still very low on energy. So I crawled back into bed to try to recover.
After a 50-minute call from a friend in Melbourne and replying to some messages, I felt like I would at 3 AM, not 3 PM. My body threatened to fall asleep while I was typing into my phone.
While thunderstorms raged outside, I slept for most of 1.5 hours. Then close to another 2 hours before I finally felt able to resurface and get some chores done and edit the photo above from a visit to St Ethelreda's Church in Hatfield in 2019.
Based on today's experience, it will be a while before I venture far from home again. I might try to walk to the high street (about 500m from my place) tomorrow for some small things. But I'll be ordering groceries online this week and laying low while I recharge my batteries.
On a "related, but not" note: it is not ideal to have symptoms of carpal tunnel syndrome for the first time when in the midst of, and recovering from, a highly infectious and deadly virus. But at least now I know what the strange tingling in my left arm is. And the panic surrounding that particular symptom has disappeared.
Also related: the virus has made me a cheap drunk, at least temporarily.
in isolation
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 18 July 2021].
Today feels like it's been two days.
An hour before midnight, Anna Maria Drutzel and I started what became a 5-hour-and-15-minute epic call. As usual, it was full of hope, dreams, plans, art, nostalgia, heartache, loss, catharsis and love. A whirlwind of words and thoughts.
After catching up on a flurry of messages and comments from friends and family, I finally called "my" Saturday a day and went to bed about 5:30.
About 10:00, I was woken by the NHS Test and Trace team, but not realising who was calling, I let the call go to voicemail. An hour and a half later, I caught up with my Dad on Skype to update him on everything and catch up on where things are at with him.
I managed not to take any painkillers today, and I'm feeling much better than yesterday.
I've had a few light-headed moments and waves of fatigue. I'm guessing that's likely to continue for a while, so I'm being gentle with myself and trying not to overdo things. Despite feeling I have so much to catch up on, and though I'd hoped for a full day of photo editing today.
The morning proper brought with it more messages and comments to reply to.
In the past month, I've been overwhelmingly reminded of the bounty I have in friends and family as they've rallied around me through the latest trial or tribulation. As each new wave bowls me over, my people bowl me over with their love, concern, support and encouragement. Again and again. I am so incredibly thankful for them. Every one.
As physically isolated as I am right now, for most of today, I've felt anything but.
But as the day closes once more, the silence, absence and emptiness feel palpable.
Where usually I'd be ecstatic at having my flat all to myself, it feels full of ghosts tonight. The occasional light breeze drifts through my bedroom and disturbs a million thoughts hanging in the air.
Though physically, I feel much better and stronger than I have for days, my heart feels weaker tonight. Broken once again. The pieces lay scattered across the floorboards still.
Usually, I would drown this feeling. Wash it away with amber waves. But I've had no such potion in the house since last Wednesday night.
So instead, I'm drowning in this feeling. And will likely seek another early night to find a release from the clamouring thoughts. And hope that, in the morning, they will shake free of my hair when I rise.
semper vivum
[I originally posted this image as early access for my Patreon patrons on 11 July 2021].
the tenant of wildfell hall
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 4 July 2021].
It was a wet and windy day when I visited Anne Brontë's final resting place in St Mary's churchyard in Scarborough in June 2017.
The weather felt appropriate, as did the wilted flowers against the headstone.
untitled #41
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 21 June 2021].
A simple, calm photograph for you today.
Nice light on those pine cones.
The past couple of days have also been calm. Productive. Focussed. Things I don't feel like I've felt for months now, though I'm sure there were some days in there that fit that description.
Sleep Cycle tells me I had 100% sleep quality on Saturday night/Sunday morning. That is unheard of for me. Even when I went to New Zealand in 2018, my first high-quality sleep wasn't that high.
But last night/this morning was full of stressful dreams and arguments in my sleep with a former lover from years ago, leaving me emotionally exhausted upon waking.
Tonight, I spent the evening working on photos for my Love Letters to London series while listening to one of my homemade Spotify playlists, Better Together.
I have plans made with a friend or two to catch up in person this weekend. A phone call with a friend back in Australia scheduled for the wee hours of Friday morning. Maybe a call with Dad in a little while.
Plans tentatively made for a London photo walk in August with a friend; plans years in the making. A plan to meet the same friend for a long weekend in Chichester in late September, presuming we're not back in lockdown again then.
And - if the weather is as forecast and I'm not feeling too lazy - I'll see how far I can make it along the New River Path (the London stretch). One day this week, when it's closer to 20 than 25 degrees and the rain has paused.
I hope your week is off to a good start x
moss yew like crazy
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 15 June 2021].
Sometimes obsessively checking in on Swarm pays off.
A couple of weeks ago, wandering around the churchyard at St Andrew's in Totteridge with my camera, I checked in on Swarm. As my check-in was recorded, I was tipped off that I was within metres of possibly the oldest tree in London.
A tree that, to be honest, I would likely have overlooked otherwise. But I was so pleased I didn't, as it was so much more interesting (and photogenic) than I realised until I got closer to it.
The yew tree in the churchyard is believed to be 2,000 years old. If true, that would make it the oldest tree in London. It is considered one of the Great Trees of London either way.
Though inclined to tree-climbing as a child, it's been a long time since I've felt the urge or the confidence to attempt such things. This tree and its boughs felt somehow tempting and welcoming, though I resisted the urge to climb into its arms.
Instead, I settled for capturing some abstract details of the trunk, the moss upon its surface, and the whorled and distorted shapes it presented to my lens.
Its shapes and colours reminded me of an oil slick. A terrain map. An aerial view of another planet.
cædmon's cross
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 7 March 2021].
I took this photograph in February 2012, in St Mary's churchyard, Whitby, and only just found out about the poet it was erected in honour of, Cædmon, tonight.
I've got quite a few things still left to do before midnight as today was an exceedingly lazy one, but I will have to read more about him when I get those things done.
Once again, my photography leading me to more learning and discovery :)
season's grievings
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 2 December 2020].
As promised in my 22 November post, albeit starting a day later than planned, I've been putting together a new series of photographs.
These are images I've previously taken that have a particularly seasonal relevance. Though, as warned, they're not really full of your usual Christmas cheer.
As many of you will know, I've a bit of a thing for graveyards, cemeteries, churchyards and other places of rest. If you don't know, now you know.
Reviewing photos I imported from earlier this year recently, I realised I've gathered a collection of photographs from various places of rest that capture mementoes of Christmas. Festive ornaments and decorations left by family and friends recently or not so recently.
So, I thought it was as good a time as any to edit a selection of these to share with you as a series entitled 'season's grievings'.
I'm still reviewing how many I have and editing them as I find them.
Given the topical nature of the series, I'm going to share them early-access for patrons-only on my Patreon, but only two days ahead of them becoming public and being posted here and elsewhere on the interwebs, instead of the usual week.
For the avoidance of doubt: these photos are shared respectfully. Both, for those who've passed and the families who decorated their final resting place.
I find these both beautiful and heartbreaking tributes to those now gone.
she is too fond of books, and it has turned her brain
Day forty-five of The 100 Day Project.
Illustrations:
Woman by Walter Crane from The necklace of Princess Fiorimonde
public display of affection
Day twenty-three of The 100 Day Project.
Illustrations:
Bull and goat kissing by Wilhelm von Kaulbach from Reineke Fuchs