The Old Toll House, a Grade II listed building formerly a turnpike tollhouse.
hither green crematorium
dog rose
I captured this rosa canina, commonly known as dog rose, and bearing the fruit, rose hip (though not fruiting when I photographed it) on my walk past Grove Park Nature Reserve to Hither Green Cemetery earlier in the month.
There are various theories for the origins of the plant's name. As you might imagine, my favoured one (though likely not scientifically proven) is that the plant can cure the bite of a mad or rabid dog.
As with many flowers and plants, it's the county flower in one country (Hampshire, England) and an invasive weed in others (NZ and Australia).
But it is pretty.
angelic youth
quit you like men | i have fought a good fight
After digging around on Google, I believe the inscriptions on either side of this grave for (I presume) brothers in Hitchin Cemetery are from Bible verses.
From 1 Corinthians 16:13-14 and 2 Timothy 4:7-8 in the King James version specifically.
A Wesleyan Minister and a World War I soldier buried alongside the wife of the Minister. I didn't check the other side, so there may also have been the wife of the soldier commemorated in this plot.
This inscription style appeared a few times in the cemetery, although sometimes with different fonts.
purity and innocence
darkened windows
These are the first and penultimate photos I took with my D700 when visiting Margate with friends in September 2016 (in reverse order).
A building near Dreamland that I imagine is long gone almost eight years later.
Abandoned and/or derelict buildings almost always catch my eye. They're so photogenic.
memorial to heroes of the marine engine room
I let the team down.
This monument and some flowers attached to a railing near the Isle of Man ferry terminal were the closest I came to photographing a grave while visiting Liverpool last week.
Nostalgia was heavily represented: tributes in various forms to The Beatles, Billy Fury and others. And my memories of Pier Head swirling around my head.
But my time in the city was too short to allow time to seek out a cemetery.
There may have been graves in the Our Lady and St Nicholas Church Garden, but I only paused briefly to capture the church before moving on.
And even when I photographed this monument, I had forgotten seeing it on the map.
Google Maps records it as the Titanic Memorial. Wikipedia tells me that was the original intent of the monument. However, it took on a broader recognition of the heroes of the marine engine room after World War I.
From Wikipedia: The memorial was intended originally to commemorate all 32 engineers who died in the sinking of Titanic on 15 April 1912. Liverpool was the Titanic port of registry, as well as the home of the ship's owner, White Star Line. Construction was funded by international public subscription.
Spaces were left on the monument to record the names of other engineers. However, due to the heavy loss of life throughout World War I, its dedication was broadened to include all maritime engine room fatalities incurred during the performance of duty. Shrapnel damage from bombs that fell during the Second World War can be clearly seen on the monument.
The shrapnel damage mentioned is apparent in the photo I took. However, I was so conscious of time (and the weight of my luggage on my shoulders) that I didn't stop to inspect the monument more closely and take more photos. I only looked up this information after editing. I realised I should have spent more time capturing it.
allium giganteum
Some allium giganteum, or giant onions, I photographed in Helmingham Hall's gardens in June 2017, the last time my parents visited the UK.
Not the edible kind of onions. But the bees like them, and they're pretty.
radio city 96.7
I visited Liverpool from Sunday to Tuesday to support an event for my day job on Sunday and Monday.
I took advantage of my day off in lieu earned through that to stay an extra day in the city to see more of it.
The one time I visited the city for an extended period was on New Year's Eve 1999 for Cream 2000.
However, my time there during that visit was predominantly spent in a tent designed to accommodate 26,000 ravers, where the focus was music, dancing and welcoming in the new millennium, not the city itself.
I wrote a short piece about that visit on my Instagram earlier in the week when I posted a photo of Pier Head I took with my phone camera on Tuesday during my two-ish hour photo walk.
I snuck a short photowalk in on Sunday evening en route to get supplies from a supermarket. But, both that walk and the one on Tuesday predominantly focused on the waterfront area, with my walk on Tuesday extending into Matthew Street (where The Cavern Club is) and up to Lime Street, from where I caught the train back to London.
Unfortunately, due to the weight of my rucksack, I didn't manage to revisit places I'd passed that caught my eye en route to my accommodation on Sunday with my D700.
I could have left my bag behind reception in my accommodation after checkout and returned for it. But the hotel was about a 23-minute walk from the station, so it would have involved me walking there and back to retrieve it on top of my photo walk when my intended route took me close to the station anyway.
Liverpool is, understandably, littered with tributes to the Fab Four, The Beatles. And, while I have some photos from my visit that relate to them that I'm pleased with and will share in future, I wanted to avoid the Liverpool cliches for my first post of one of my D700 photos from the city.
So, instead, here's a music-related photograph of St Johns Beacon, the former revolving restaurant that became the home of Radio City 96.7 in July 2000.
Radio City's stations rebranded to Hits Radio on my birthday this year. Unfortunately, they've announced they'll rebrand the tower with their new logo, which I don't think will work as well on a structure of that era, so I'm glad I captured it when I did.
I hope to arrange to sit Sir Peter and his peacock friends in Delamere again for a longer stretch. If I can, I'll take advantage of the proximity to pop over to Liverpool again for a day or two or three to explore more of the city with my camera and to visit Tate Liverpool, the Open Eye Gallery, the various museums along the waterfront and more.
camellia japonica
death in technicolour
A couple of flowering Camellia japonica trees brighten up the churchyard of St Peter's Church in Delamere.
Life and death side by side.
pyrus communis
Flowers of the common pear tree, captured on my photo walk from Delamere to Kelsall last month.
along the sandstone trail
It's already been a week since I returned from Delamere.
I managed to edit the above photo and a couple of others for a separate post before I travelled down to sit my regulars in Bromley on Wednesday evening. I'd hoped to write this post while there, but you know how sometimes you don't realise how tired you are until you stop? That.
So, I'm writing this on my one full day at home after my return from Bromley and before I head up to Glasgow for the best part of a week.
For my second trip courtesy of Avanti West Coast (well, technically, my third, as I booked it last and it was the 'bonus' trip I would give up if I couldn't afford the accommodation or my leave request was refused, but chronologically, it was the second), I opted to return to Manchester.
I figured that, as I'd visited the city quite a few times already, I wouldn't lose anything if I had to give it up, and it was a sufficient distance to justify the enjoyment of a first-class seat.
I looked at Airbnb options in and around the city but couldn't find any that stood out. I had decided I would, most likely, stay in a hotel at Media City. But I would also keep an eye out for pet sittings in and around Manchester in case something suitable popped up to avoid me having to pay for accommodation.
I booked my train tickets and annual leave in mid-January, and then in late February, a couple of possible sittings came up through Trusted Housesitters and I applied for both.
To my joy and surprise, I received a positive reply to one of the applications the morning after I applied, with the invitation to a virtual meet and greet in early March. And I received an invitation to sit from the other, mere hours after the first pet parent responded.
While I would happily have spent a long weekend entertaining and being entertained by a corgi called Winston in Manchester itself, I held out for the virtual meet and greet with the owner of a cat, Peter, and (wait for it...) two peacocks, Bowie and Mercury, in a cottage near the village of Delamere in Cheshire, about an hour and ten minutes on the train from Manchester.
I was apprehensive about the prospect of sitting peacocks, but the location, the cottage and the opportunity to experience such things, were too good for me not to apply and find out more.
Long story short: my hour-and-a-half phone call with the pets' parent reassured me I wasn't taking on something I couldn't handle, and I was pleased to be offered the sit.
Peter the cat is a dentist, so I can't show you his face.
Or rather, for privacy reasons, I can't share photos of the pets I sat or the home I stayed in. But I will share plenty of photos from my time exploring a stretch of the Sandstone Trail, the nearby Delamere Forest, the walk up the Old Pale hill, and my walk between Delamere Railway Station, Delamare, Oakmere and Kelsall villages over the coming months (or years, knowing me).
The peacocks are beautiful creatures and seemed to warm to me over the few days I was there, though not enough to feed from my hand. I was less comfortable with the Angus bulls I encountered, though thankfully, none charged me. Sir Peter was an absolute sweetheart, and probably the snuggliest cat I've ever encountered.
The above photo was taken near the junction of the Sandstone Trail with the path from Delamere Railway Station.
The weather was somewhat unpredictable, with strong winds and short-lived showers creeping up on me, but I managed to experience some lovely spring weather and even get a bit of colour in my face (and my freckles came out) on my last full day wandering. It was a few degrees cooler than London, at about 7-9 degrees each day, but with a coat, mittens and leg warmers, and the body heat generated by walking, it was quite pleasant, and on the last day, more like sweater weather once I was moving.
I hope to return to sit those beautiful beasties again and explore more of the local area. I decided to forego wandering the forest itself, as on the Sunday I was there, every man and his dog and child (literally) was out doing just that. And Delamere is a perfect spot to explore nearby villages and venture further afield to Chester, Liverpool and Manchester.
prunus cerasifera
Some Prunus cerasifera flowers I captured last Saturday during a solo photo walk in Hitchin.
Spring is coming.
owt wet
coaxing life from death
a year later... or thereabouts.
So, it's been a year since Mum passed. Well, kind of.
I mean, she died at 06:10 on 1 March 2023 AEDT, but for me, that means her time of death was actually 19:10 GMT on 28 February 2023.
So, for me, that should mean the anniversary of her passing was on 28 February 2024.
Except that this year is a leap year, so 06:10 AEDT on 1 March 2024 was 19:10 GMT on 29 February 2024.
Confused yet?
If I base the anniversary on the date she passed away in Australia (as that's where she was), then I'm posting this late. But it's still only 1 March 2024 here in London, so I guess I get longer to mark the anniversary.
Has anyone noticed I possess a certain sentimentality and a penchant for marking such important dates at precisely the right moment?
Though I didn't have a chance to post about it at either of the potentially recognised moments, it's been on my mind for some time, particularly during the evening on 28 February when it felt like I should acknowledge the passing of a year since her death.
Dad and I acknowledged the anniversary within the hour of her passing on 1 March 2024, his time, in our family WhatsApp chat.
Yesterday afternoon, a little before and a little after my day's sitting with Francois ended, and before I left for my first sitting of the year with my regulars, I edited these two photos to share with this post acknowledging the anniversary.
Although I don't think she had any particular preference for daffodils (I don't remember them appearing often within bouquets she bought or received), her death will now be inextricably linked to them in my mind because of her passing on St David's Day and, in particular, because of her Welsh ancestry.
So, I was already thinking ahead to today when I photographed these two specimens in Frank's backyard the last weekend I sat him in mid-February. Knowing there would be photographs of daffodils as part of my tribute to her this year, as I have access to very few photos of her, and most I've already shared. While thinking ahead to the date and time conundrum as the impact of this leap year had already occurred to me by then.
One thing I didn't get to do while I was visiting Dad was to pore over their photo albums. Two weeks isn't a long time when you're working part-time, sorting through your deceased mother's personal effects and catching up with family you haven't seen in person in about three years.
I didn't know how I would feel one year on. If I'm honest, I still don't.
I mean, there's definitely been a sea of emotions surging around me for the past week or so.
I initially hoped to write my thoughts on the "exact" anniversary (for me). But practical matters had to be dealt with. So, instead, I sort of softly welled up thinking about it without having the time or capacity to put the feelings into words. But knowing I would when I could.
I know it's cliched to say it feels like less than a year, but in the same breath, to say it feels more than a year. But it does.
It's been less than a year since we said goodbye as a family and scattered her ashes.
It's been more than a year since she and I last spoke. Or rather, I spoke to her, as she didn't have many words left by then.
So, the passing of time since her passing has been warped and bent. Though that's not uncommon. I know others feel similarly about the passing of their loved ones, even without the added confusion of leap years interfering with their marking of time.
I wrote a lot about her last year. And I don't doubt I will write more in time. I took photos while visiting my family in Australia that triggered memories, anecdotes, and so forth that I hope to capture in words. Some I'll capture for myself. Others I'll share.
In the meantime, as Spring drags its feet returning to England, the daffodils rush in and bloom on the verges and traffic islands, in suburban gardens, central London parks, cemeteries, the local supermarket, the vase in the entry to our building placed there by my Welsh neighbour who lives downstairs. And in my mind.
For Mum. In her memory.